Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 166: Grace: Seating Arrangements

"—can’t just rely on Ron holding her in his lap for multiple days, Caine." My hands plant firmly on my hips as I stare up at the immovable wall of muscle and tattoos before me. His cologne ad smell is doing a serious number on my rational thought, but I’m holding firm on the argument we’ve been having for about fifteen minutes. "Bun needs a car seat."

Everything’s ready to go. Jack-Eye and Andrew are only ten minutes out. Lyre and Owen haven’t emerged from Archie and Doris’s camper.

The only thing holding us back is what we’re doing with Sadie—if anything—and the issue of Bun’s car seat. I’m trying not to think about the former. If I do, I’ll end up submitting beneath the guilt and trying to figure out how we’re going to raise a dog around wolves.

Seriously. Imagine going to Blue Mountain with a dog in tow. A dog. She might actually get torn apart.

A muscle twitches in Caine’s cheek. "We made it here without one."

He’s said this ten times, and I’ve responded the same way another ten.

"I know." I gesture toward the grassy area where Jer and Sara chase each other in wide circles, Sadie barking excitedly at their heels while Ron monitors from a distance. Bun toddles after them with high-pitched squeals of laughter. "But what if we’d crashed? What if someone had hit us? She would’ve gone straight through the windshield."

"I would never let that happen."

"It’s not about what you’d let happen." My voice rises despite my efforts to keep calm. "It’s physics. Basic safety. Even the High Alpha of all werewolfdom can’t override a car crash."

His nostrils flare. "We’re not separating."

"Then we need to find a car seat that fits in your truck." I cross my arms, matching his stance. "There’s got to be a baby store within twenty minutes of here."

The truck’s backseat is far too narrow to fit a standard car seat, or probably any car seat at all. There’s no room for one, but there has to be a way somehow, right?

Storms rage in his gray eyes. "You’re not leaving my sight."

"Fine. Then let’s find a car seat to fit the truck, and we’ll all stay together," I repeat.

He knows as well as I do—we aren’t going to find anything.

"Then we’ll get a car seat and put it in the front with us."

I shake my head immediately. I don’t know much about car seats, but I do know one thing: I’ve been in enough cars with a warning to never place a rear-facing car seat in the front. "That’s not safe."

He pinches the bridge of his nose with a long sigh. "First you say she needs a car seat to be safe. Then I say to put her in the front and you insist it isn’t safe. Which is it, Grace? Is it safe or not?"

"It’s safe, but not in the front seat. The air bags—"

I cut off abruptly, because I’m not really sure of what happens. I just remember the warning says not to because of the air bag.

"The air bags what?"

"Can... hurt her?"

"You’re not going in Andrew’s car, Grace."

Here I am, trying to be a responsible mother figure to a toddler, and the man who’s taken over as a daddy figure keeps getting in my damn way. I scowl. "Are you saying Bun’s life isn’t as important as your possessive ego?"

"No, I’m saying both of you are in greater danger with Andrew driving than with me."

I throw up my hands in frustration. "How would you even know that? Have you ever seen Andrew drive before?"

"I don’t need to see him drive to know I’m right."

A scoff escapes me. Crazy to think I was once too terrified to mock this man’s lack of reasoning skills. "You’re being ridiculous."

"No, I’m being cautious. My mate and daughter are not going in another man’s car."

"What if he was a woman?"

Caine hesitates.

"Hah! See? It’s because he’s a man, not because of his driving skills." I point at him in triumph. "You lose this argument. I’m not putting her life at risk because you’re jealous."

"Grace—"

"No. This argument is over. We’re going to the store to buy her a car seat, and we’ll install it in Andrew’s car."

Caine’s expression hardens again. "No."

The single syllable and his blockheaded stubbornness ignites something in me—a spark of defiance building since the first time Brax looked at me like I was a burden rather than a daughter.

"I’m not asking permission." I meet his gaze steadily. "I’m telling you how we’re keeping Bun safe. Either help me find a solution that works for everyone, or I’m doing this my way without your help. I’ll go to Blue Mountain with Andrew and take all the kids with me, and you can drive alone."

"There isn’t room for all of them in his car," he points out.

Damn. He has me there.

"Then I’ll take most of them."

A low rumble builds in his chest. The sound vibrates through the air between us, and I can practically feel Fenris’s presence even though the massive wolf is nowhere to be seen.

"Let me be clear," Caine says, his voice deceptively soft. "You will not be in a vehicle I’m not driving."

"Then find a miraculous car seat to fit the truck."

"Grace." His voice has dropped lower, that rumble still present beneath the surface. "Stop this."

I lift my chin. "Stop what? Being responsible? Making sure Bun is safe? What exactly should I stop, Caine?"

His eyes have darkened to near-black. "Testing me."

"This isn’t about you!" The words come out louder than intended. I lower my voice, aware of the kids still playing outside. "This is about your control issues. I don’t know you very well, but I was raised in a pack. I know exactly how possessive you guys can get over your mates."

He pauses, his entire face relaxing a little as his eyes rove over my face. noveldrama

"What?" His sudden silence and lack of argument is mildly unnerving.

"You consider us mates?"

I blink at him a few times, completely struck mute by the inane question. "We had an entire conversation about our relationship, didn’t we?"

"Yes, and you didn’t seem to consider us mated." He steps a little closer. "You wanted me to court you. For us to get to know each other. To... mesh more thoroughly. No?"

The intensity of his stare has gone a completely different direction than our argument about seating arrangements, and I lick my lower lip nervously. "I told you I’ve accepted our bond..."

"But you don’t treat me like a mate." He reaches out, his fingers hovering just a millimeter from my face. Then he drops his hand. "You said you don’t imagine our future together."

I’m pretty sure that’s not exactly what I said, though.

"I mean... we’re mates. So we’re mated, right? And we’ve..." My hands flutter awkwardly as I press my fingers together. "You know. Been intimate. Doesn’t that count as treating you like a mate?"

Caine leans down, his eyes now gleaming. "We haven’t been intimate enough. There’s still a lot I haven’t been able to—"

I slap my hands over his mouth, then gasp at the immediate surge of energy that pulses between us—hot and electric and way too familiar. I jerk my hands back like I’ve been burned.

It’s not entirely inaccurate to say I have been. After all, desire’s a kind of heat...

Shit. No. Bad Grace. Don’t join Caine in the gutter. You’re a responsible mother-figure of four now.

"The kids are right over there," I hiss, fighting the flush creeping up my neck.

And then Caine does something I’ve never seen before.

He laughs.

Not a snort or a scoff or even a smirk. A real laugh—deep and resonant, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. Something in my chest clenches tight. When he laughs, the years of brooding darkness fall away and he looks... younger. Less like the terrifying Lycan King and more like some devastatingly handsome playboy who breaks hearts for sport. Or maybe the devil inviting you to sin.

My mouth goes dry. My heart does a stupid little flip in my chest. Warmth goes places it has no freaking business going at this time of day, before we’re about to be stuck in a tiny space together with four youthful sets of eyes watching our every move.

"I should—" I swallow hard, suddenly needing to be anywhere but here. "Um, I should see if we have water for Bun’s bottles."

I dart away before he can stop me, feeling his eyes on my back the entire time.

My legs carry me to the camper in record time. I rush inside, shut the door, and lean against it like I’m in some romantic comedy running from my feelings. Which I’m not.

Obviously.

I’m just... strategically retreating from a conversation we should definitely not be having with children nearby.

My cheeks are hot to the touch, and my breath’s harder to come by than usual. It should be illegal for Caine to laugh like that. It’s like a nuclear explosion of desire.

Patting at my chest and willing myself to calm down (which, of course, doesn’t work at all), I lean back against the door. It will be much smarter to stay in the car with Andrew if this is how it’s going to be every time the man looks at me the wrong way.