Murder Mittens (Magical Romantic Comedies #13) - R.J. Blain Page 0,44

you’ll live longer.”

Sebastian chuckled, got out of the truck, and headed for the bed.

After some debate, I left the yarn and quilting supplies in the cab and went to help him free the stand, which I would carry, as it would help lengthen my lifespan, too.

Every light in the house was on, and I bet the only reason a stampede of brothers wasn’t running out involved my dad growling a threat of death and murder should they swarm me.

Them swarming me led to one inevitable outcome: a cat fight partnered with a hissy fit. The hissy fit usually outlasted the actual fight, but the last thing I needed was to spend until the wee hours of the morning hissing at the entire clan for being, well, cats.

It took us ten minutes to free the stand and ease it off the bed without damaging it, and I took over carrying it while Sebastian freed the precious Singer from its carry box and carried it in his arms. “All right. I’m ready. Hopefully the sewing machine will discourage my outright assassination.”

“It will, or I’ll be destroying them all with my sewing machine and making them pay the obscene amounts to repair it.”

“I just thought you should know that’s blatantly flirting with me, Wells.”

Damned lion. “If I walk out of this with any substantial bruising, as I absolutely will fight with every last one of the bastards if they get mad I brought home a lion, you will owe me.”

“Do I owe you dinner, pampering, a calmer trip to a yarn store, or all of the above?”

“All of the above. I’m greedy, and I don’t want to choose between those options.”

“You’re hardly greedy. Wells, you’ve never once asked for a raise. Not once.”

I stopped and stared at him. “That’s an option?”

“And I’ll be making sure I prompt you as appropriate for you to ask for raises,” the lion muttered. “When your uncle asks how we met, just tell him we met at a coffee shop, and that you would go for a rare indulgence getting coffee because the shop offers catnip for a fraction of the price of pixie dust.”

As I’d forced him to meet me at a coffee shop for our first meeting to get through it without wanting to claw his face off because he was male, lycanthrope, and in my territory, I chuckled. “Not even a ghost of a lie on that one, but it was hot chocolate. I even got my first roar out of you in like ten minutes flat. And the baristas didn’t even care.”

“One of the baristas at that shop is a lioness, and she’s related to me on my mother’s side. It is friendly towards cranky lions, which was why I had suggested that you meet me at that specific shop. She was rather surprised you’d gotten a roar out of me.”

I regarded him with a frown. “Really? But you roar often.”

“I roar often for you. I roar significantly less often for anyone else. I was using my nose, Wells. You smelled miserable, and when you started to annoy me, and I allowed my annoyance to show, you got progressively more lively and no longer smelled as miserable. I gave you a roar to see what you would do, and you flat-out purred at me. And then caught yourself and stopped purring, but I had you figured out from the start. I should be more concerned than I am that someone finds making me miserable is enjoyable, but I am a lycanthrope.”

“You are such a lion.”

“I really am. I’m shameless, too. Assuming this goes well and we get through our upcoming activities unscathed, I’ll take you to meet my family. You will be encouraged to beat the snot out of all of them.”

“That is the greatest pitch ever, Mr. Mane. Come meet my family. Or meat them. How would you like your family served?”

He chuckled. “Thoroughly tenderized but still kicking.”

“Bold preparation choice, Sumners.” Giggling over the idea of taking out an entire pride of lions, I hauled my sewing machine’s stand to the front door, and as I didn’t have a free hand, I yowled, “Open up, you furry freaks. And don’t you dare scratch my baby.”

My father opened the door. “You do realize it’s midnight, right? Don’t wake the neighbors.”

“Dad, we screech and yowl at each other at night often. They’re used to weird sounds coming from here. Someone screaming to open up is tame compared to our normal.” I set the stand for

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