Roaring Up the Wrong Tree (17 page)

Trista stared at the boxes piled in a haphazard fashion and scattered throughout the first floor of their new house.

Their. New. House.

It’d taken two days for the sale to be completed. One for the paperwork to be drawn up for signature and then anther for Keen to wire the money. Now it was Thursday night, and they had keys and were moving his furniture and belongings into the house. Their new furnishings and decorations also showed up this morning.

At 10 a.m., when Trista stood in the middle of the family room, gawking as movers brought the new things into the home, Keen gathered her into his arms and smiled down at her.
This is what money can do and this is how it will be for you.

Now, four hours later, and she was still seeing man after man enter the house, carrying things she didn’t even remember ordering.

“Tris?” Keen’s yell rose above the heavy tread of the men carrying their couch through the front door.

“Yeah, coming.” Still shell-shocked, she made her way to the stairs and thumped up them, hunting her mate.

Just as she reached the landing, he stuck his head out of a doorway. “There you are. Come see.”

She’d been “coming and seeing” all day. The man was like a kid in a candy store and had to show her everything that moved through the home. She was exhausted from the constant running and hunting, but the fatigue couldn’t destroy her happiness.

“What’d you do now?” She grinned and went to him, allowed him to draw her into the space. It was one of the rooms that faced the backyard and she noticed he’d had a window seat installed, as well as a drawing desk and an area that featured a painting easel. The light was perfect for early morning sessions. She remembered saying something about wanting to paint and draw, that’d she’d loved it in middle school but the idea had been pushed aside with Mr. Scott’s death. Living became more important than paints. She froze in the doorway, unable to breathe. “Oh, Keen…”

“I’m guessing I did good.” He approached her, wide smile in place. He captured her hand and drew her deeper into the room. “Come see.”

He showed her everything. The paints he’d purchased, the brushes and pencils and everything she’d ever need. Plus he had a schedule of art classes at the local community college. “This is too much.”

He shook his head and kissed her, hard and fast and not nearly enough. They’d done nothing but hold each other in the night and kiss during the day. He hadn’t pushed for more and neither had she. It’d happen someday, they’d eventually solidify their mating, but it didn’t seem like he was in a hurry. At the moment, she wasn’t either, but each morning, each minute, he showed her he was dependable. He was worthy to be leaned upon and he’d never destroy her trust.

“It’s not too much, and I’m not done yet.” He pulled her to the single picture decorating the wall. Or rather, the lone framed document. “It’s a copy of the original. I’ve got that one locked in our safety deposit box.”

She still hadn’t looked at the form, not closely, she was too surprised by the “our” safety deposit box. “Ours?”

Keen shrugged. He did a lot of that, especially when he was caught doing something that added her name to yet another part of his life. “It was one of the things you signed.”

She glared at him. “You put that in there with the house paperwork, didn’t you?”

By the time they’d finished reviewing and signing things, she didn’t know what the hell she’d done. The house was free and clear, he hadn’t taken out a loan, and it wasn’t like she had credit or much of an identity he could steal. He’d assured her that she signed nothing that would negatively impact her in any way. When the attorney representing them reinforced Keen’s statement and reminded her he was ethically and legally bound to tell her the truth, she’d finally scrawled her name on each page.

“Maybe.” He grinned. “Now, look at the first bit of art you’ve got.”

Glare still in place, he turned her attention to the frame on the wall, focused on its contents, and gasped. There, in black and white, was the deed to the house and it held one name. Hers.

“Keen…” She read it again, skipping over the legalese and simply hunting for any hint of Keen’s name. And she found none. “You…”

He nudged her until she fully faced the wall and plastered himself to her back, enveloping her in a warm hug. “The house is yours. Completely. If something happens to me, if you realize I’m a bad bet, you’ll always have a home.”

“But…”

“You’ll also have your own bank account that has enough to cover the taxes, utilities, and cost of upkeep for the house for twenty years. Longer if we invest it right. But it’s yours.”

Trista nudged him back and turned toward him, staring into his midnight black eyes and noticing the new hint of brown scruff on his cheeks. The bear was out, peering at her, and both of them were waiting for her reaction. Not hesitating, she cupped his face and held him steady as she pushed to her tiptoes. She brushed her lips across his, enjoying the first kiss she’d initiated.

When she felt him give in, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him in place. She savored his innate flavors, the smoky sweetness specific to him. One gentle kiss turned into a simmering passionate tangle of tongues and nipping teeth. The familiar heat, the well-known rush of arousal that came with their kisses, assaulted her. It overtook her body in a blinding rush, filling her from head to toe. It urged her to wriggle closer to him, to press against him until their bodies were like one. She wanted to trace every dip and curve of muscle, learn the taste of his skin and the feel of him beneath her hands.

She wanted Keen Abrams plain and simple.

Keen moaned against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist, hands coming to rest at the top curve of her ass. That was as forceful as he’d become, as if he were simply waiting for her to break free and shy away from him. She had to admit, it’d been a very near thing several times, but now…

Now he knew her, knew what she needed, and had handed over the answer without question. The old house, even in the middle of a tiny town like Grayslake, went for easily over two hundred grand and he’d paid cash. Then there was the value of her new account. She couldn’t imagine how much he thought she’d need. Trista was sure it was way too much, but he just… gave it to her.

God, she needed more than these passionate kisses. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around Keen’s thigh, pulling him even closer than before. She wasn’t tall enough to rest it on his hip, but a gal worked with what she had.

That drew a deep moan from him followed by the rumbling growl of his bear. She wasn’t afraid of the sound. No, she recognized his bear’s response for what it was: pure need. For her.

She broke the kiss long enough to beg for him. “Please, Keen…”

She knew she wasn’t ready for sex, but she sure as hell was prepared for more than what they’d shared. It’d taken one piece of paper and she realized he knew her better than she knew herself. One of the final walls protecting her heart crumbled beneath him.

Keen bent his legs, shifted his hands to her ass and then her feet no longer touched the floor. He lifted her until her pussy met his hardened cock and the only thing separating them was the cloth of their jeans. She wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming him without hesitation. He stumbled forward until her back met the wall, her head coming to rest beside the frame that’d started their desirous frenzy.

She dove into their kiss, welcoming the heat and pleasure that came from their new position. He rocked his hips ever so slightly, as if testing her willingness, and she moaned in approval. Yes, she wanted this closeness more than she wanted anything in the world and she wanted it now.

Her heat throbbed while her clit twitched, and warmth enveloped her in an aroused wave. Her nipples hardened, pressing against the fabric of her bra and thin T-shirt as if they wanted to break free of the cloth. She wanted skin on skin, mouths on flesh, and bodies meeting in a rhythm as old as time.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

What she got was a masculine throat clearing followed by a loud cough. The sound had Keen yanking away from her, dropping her to her feet while he spun and faced the interloper. On unsteady legs, she stared at her mate’s back, noting the way his shoulders expanded and stretched his shirt to almost tearing. His legs were doing the same, pushing against his jeans. That’s when she noticed the rolling, threatening growl. Keen wasn’t just annoyed, he was furious and was ready to take out his anger on their unfortunate visitor.

Taking him at his word, trusting in her ability to calm the raging beast, she eased her arms around his waist. When he didn’t pull away, she allowed her front to align with his back until she touched him from shoulders to knees.

“Keen.” She whispered his name and his reaction was instantaneous.

Beneath her touch, he deflated, his size shrinking the tiniest bit while his sounds were swallowed. One of his hands rested atop hers while he reached back, his palm sliding along her arm in reassurance. When he finally spoke, his bear imbued the syllables, but Trista was too thankful for the animal’s retreat to care.

“What?”

“Uh… I… Um…” The man seemed unable to get his message out.

Peering around Keen, she spoke instead. It was one of the movers, she couldn’t remember his name, but he’d been all smiles as he’d worked downstairs. She smiled, attempting to calm him. “Is there something you needed?”

“There’s a woman downstairs who—”

Trista’s heart stilled and the blood in her veins froze. A woman. She’d met a few of Keen’s women over the past several days and while she was grateful they’d helped him through the years, she was jealous as hell. Which was stupid, but it was what it was.

Keen’s snarl had the man snapping his mouth closed and she shoved a placating smile to her lips. “Thank you. We’ll be right down.”

The man took his chance to escape and his race down the stairs thundered through the house. The second he was gone, she prodded Keen’s back. “C’mon, let’s see what this one wants.”

Would there be no end to the women? Gah. She had to take comfort in the fact he hadn’t had sex with them all. That was reassuring. But they’d still touched his body, slept in his arms, and woken coated in his scent.

Now her jealousy was rearing its ugly head while her inner-animal snarled and chuckled in her mind. Damn it, she needed to get a handle on this.

He tugged her around until they faced one another again. “You know they didn’t mean anything to me. They were a means to an end.”

She nodded. She knew, she did. “But not all of them realize that. And they still held a piece of you. I know it was nothing to you, but it was something to them.”

Sadness and regret overtook his features. “Will we always have this between us?”

“A little, not like it is today, but as I get to know you, it’ll lessen.” She smiled, hoping to reassure him. “I mean, I don’t want to bludgeon Helena to death anymore. That’s progress.”

No, she just wanted to bury her alive, but she didn’t say that out loud.

Raised voices reached them, muffled by the distance, but still audible. The anger circulating downstairs was unmistakable and it caused Keen to sigh in resignation.

“C’mon. Let’s send this one on her way, too.”

The annoyance in his expression and the slump in his shoulders almost made her happy. He looked forward to the confrontation as much as she did. That is to say, not at all.

They trudged down the stairs, the voices growing louder the closer they got. By the time they neared the bottom step, Trista was ready to kick the people to the curb. A man and a woman argued somewhere on the first floor. It annoyed her that they’d gained access to the deeper parts of the house. It was her place,
their
place, and they’d intruded.

At the bottom, Keen froze and she smacked into his back, not realizing he was gonna come to a sudden stop in the middle of their travels. It wasn’t hard to see past him, her position on a higher step making it a simple thing to tilt sideways and look at their intruders.

Intruders that looked surprisingly like…

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” Keen’s voice cracked and Trista opened her eyes wide in shock.

She couldn’t have suppressed her next words had she tried. “Oh fuck.”

Keen’s mother smiled wide at her while his father glared at him.

*

Oh fuck.
Yeah, that pretty much echoed Keen’s thoughts.

His parents were here. In his house. In his family room amongst boxes and random furniture that still needed positioning. Trista’s rug hadn’t been delivered so they were waiting to place everything until it showed.

And why the hell was he wondering about the rug when his parents were standing before him? In his house. In his family room.

Now he was repeating himself.

His mom bustled forward, arms spread and her smile wide. She looked like she did when he was five, all energy and happiness. She was the bright light in Keen’s world, the first woman to soothe his bear. Trista was his last.

Trista.

Oh fuck.

He wasn’t ready to expose her to any more bears. Least of all ones who might hold the same opinions as Ty and Keen.

“There’s my boy. Look at you.” She yanked him down the last step and then wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She was like that; a hugger while his dad was more about grunts. “You look good and I
love
this house.” His mom looked around him and reached for his mate. “You must be Trista. Oh, honey, you’re beautiful. George, isn’t she beautiful. You’re going to make such pretty babies.”

Trista stared at him with wide, fearful eyes and his mother kept chattering away as if she didn’t scent his mate’s unease and anxiety. That was his mom. She sorta bulldozed everyone.

Before his mom could make off with Trista, he snatched his mate’s hand and yanked her close. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her captive.

“Oh, George, do you see that? He’s already protective. That’s so sweet.” His mom pinched his cheek. Pinched it! “I knew he’d find the perfect woman.”