White Tiger

His resolve went out the window as soon as Addison laughed out loud at something Charlie said. She was like sparks from a firework, filling the space with beauty and heat.

Kendrick could easily solve the problem by sending her away. He didn’t believe she’d instantly send the police and Shifter Bureau out here to arrest them all, though his trackers like Jaycee and Francesca would tell him he was thinking with his hormones.

The thought of Addison being out there in the bad world, though, where he couldn’t reach her and protect her, was anathema. She was staying. Kendrick would just have to deal with his mating frenzy.

Like he’d dealt with it so well last night. The only reason Kendrick had come to his senses and gotten away from her was because he’d started to shift while he kissed her. Terrified he’d hurt her, he’d forced himself off the bed and gotten the hell out of there.

He’d spent the night on the porch, as a tiger, too hot and needy. And crabby as hell when he woke up. Seeing Seamus nuzzling her had been too much.

Seamus left after breakfast, though. Kendrick held himself in check to take Seamus aside and talk with him a moment, leader to tracker, laying plans.

Seamus then said good-bye to the cubs and Charlie, and approached Addison, enfolding her in a hug right in front of Kendrick. When Kendrick growled, Seamus released her and shot him a grin.

“Keep it together,” Seamus said to him. “Or go for it. I guarantee, it’s better to give in.”

Kendrick only growled again. Seamus, laughing, walked out to the dusty little pickup he’d driven here. The truck didn’t look like much but its motor hummed with smooth efficiency when Seamus started it up. He raised his hand in farewell, the cubs excitedly waving back to him.

He was gone. Now all Kendrick could do was wait and keep himself away from Addison.

Addison made it easy for him by plunging seriously into her nanny duties. She had the boys washed, helped them clean up their room, then helped Charlie in the rest of the house.

Kendrick followed her example and went around fixing numerous things that needed repair in the basement, barn, and sheds around the property. When he returned, Addison was baking pies.

The smell of warm baking filled the kitchen, fruit pies from the fresh berries Addison had found in town—blueberry, blackberry, strawberry. Odors wafted from the oven and lingered in the house.

They ate the pie after dinner that night, the only time Kendrick allowed himself to sit down with Addie near. The blackberry pie melted on his tongue, the crust crisp and tangy.

“These are better than the pies at the diner,” Brett said. He looked perplexed. “How can that be?”

“Homemade is always better,” Addison said, her fork loaded with blueberry pie. “That is, when you have a big kitchen and lots of good ingredients.”

And a fine cook, Kendrick thought but didn’t say.

“My mom could cook,” Robbie said.

Kendrick’s gaze shot to him. Robbie rarely mentioned his family, not at all if he could help it. The fact that he volunteered the information meant . . . something, though Kendrick wasn’t sure what. He was a Shifter leader, not a psychologist.

Robbie said nothing more, only went back to eviscerating his pieces of pie.

“More of my friends might be here soon,” Kendrick said to Addison abruptly. If I’m lucky. “Jaycee can be . . . forthright. Go easy on Dimitri—he has a speech impediment and is shy around people he doesn’t know.”

“He stammers a little,” Zane said. “But when you get to know him, you don’t notice. Is Dimitri really coming, Dad? When?”

“I don’t know, son.” Kendrick’s blackberry pie suddenly tasted like dust. “I told Seamus to put the word out. We just have to wait.”