Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After spending the week chasing down drug-dealing bears and tips on Whitlan, Crush was grateful when the weekend came and he had a whole Saturday to sit at home with Lola, relax, and watch the Islanders game. It was still early and he had no intention of getting up for several more hours, when he heard the purring. No. That wasn’t right. He didn’t hear purring. He felt it. All over his body. And wow! That was kind of amazing. So amazing, he woke up. Unfortunately, as soon as he woke up the wonderful spell was broken and he was forced to face the reality that his house had been broken into—again.

“Why are you here, Malone?” he asked, even as he reached for her.

“We had a date.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Ice Party. You’re supposed to come with me as my date.”

“But I specifically told you no.”

“That was before you kissed me.”

“You kissed me. Besides, Islanders game today.”

“You’re saying I am less important than the Islanders?”

“Yes.”

She stroked a finger across his chin. “I think you’re lying,” she purred. “I think you’re absolutely fascinated with me and you’re dying to go to the party.”

“Look, I’m sure there are a lot of guys out there who haven’t gotten to know you who would be really glad to—oh, God, please stop doing that.”

She was licking and grazing her teeth against his jaw, making Crush’s toes curl, his hands clench. But he had to fight it.

But she’d started purring again, her hands sliding up his arms, gripping his shoulders, and her hips rocking back and forth against him. They weren’t even naked! She was fully dressed and Crush had on his sweatpants. And yet he felt like he might come at any second.

Deciding he needed control, he grabbed Malone’s arms and rolled her onto her back. But, Crush quickly realized that only made things worse. Because now he had her right where he really wanted her. On her back, his cock between her legs.

Pinning her to the bed, both of them panting and gaping at each other, Crush was moments from pawing off her clothes with his claws. And the way her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist, he got the feeling she really wouldn’t mind.

But before Crush could do anything, a male voice from downstairs bellowed, “Celly! Let’s go!”

“Who’s that?”

“My brother. He drove me here.”

“Your brother is in my house and you’re ...”

“Rubbin’ up on ya? Yeah.”

“And I could totally hear it!”

Malone cringed and yelled, “Shut up, Tommy!” She let out a breath, looked back at Crush. “I didn’t bring him in. I swear. He just—”

“Broke in? Like you?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Crush released the feline and rolled away from her. “Out.”

“Okay, fine.” She sat up. “Don’t come. But my Aunt Deirdre swung at me earlier today.”

Confused, Crush lifted his hands. He felt like he was praying for guidance. “Why is your elderly aunt swinging at you?”

“Because I’m not afraid to tell her that her soda bread sucks.”

“It totally sucks,” Tommy agreed from the first floor.

Ignoring the male cat, Crush asked, “Still, it seems a little overly aggressive. Are you sure she doesn’t have dementia of some kind?”

“No. She just doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not sure I like you.”

The feline slowly got to her knees in front of him and slipped one arm around his neck.

“Do not kiss me,” he told her. But she did it anyway. And before Crush could stop himself, he had his arms around her and her body pulled close to his. They nearly had each other’s pants off when her idiot brother yelled, “Are you two at it again?”

Malone pulled away first and quickly got off the bed.

“You want to come with us?”

“I haven’t showered or anything and I need to take care of Lola and—” Crush frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Pouting. Until I get what I want.”

“Dude! Just tell her you’ll meet us there,” Tommy yelled.

“Yeah, but—”

“Dude!”

“All right!” he roared back, and the male tiger laughed at him. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Promise? Because I know you. You won’t break a promise. So promise me.”

“Fine. I promise. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll text you the coordinates so you can find it.”

“Can’t you just give me—?”

“We’re trying to keep out the riffraff so we have it in the middle of nowhere. You’ll need coordinates.” She stretched across the bed and kissed him again. “I’ll see you there.”

Crush fell back on the bed and again wondered what he’d gotten himself into with this crazy feline.

Cella got in the SUV with her brothers. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Where’s the bear?” Liam asked.

“He’ll meet us there.”

“So he’s dumping you already?”

Cella let out a breath. “No. He’s not dumping me.”

“Because I think you should go for the RV dealer in A.C.”

“He’s a cousin, you idiot!”

“What is the deal with you and all these rules?”

Cella made a fist and turned, but Tommy, who was in the driver’s seat, caught her hand. “Would you two cut it out? I’m not going to have all this fuckin’ arguing all the way to the party! Now everybody face forward and be quiet!”

All the siblings faced forward and were quiet—for about five minutes. Then they argued all the way to the party.

Crush followed the directions his GPS gave him based on the coordinates provided by Malone. He ended up in Macon River County. One of the vacation places that only shifters knew about. There were quite a few of these, but Crush had heard a lot about Macon River because it was very bear-friendly. Some places were bear-friendly, some places bear-only, and some places simply didn’t like to have bears around at all. Of course, that was usually anyplace with a lot of wolves, coyotes, or mountain lions. Other cats and wild dogs had more tolerance, but didn’t get too close to bears, either. And wherever there were bears, there were foxes somewhere—stealing shit.

When Crush finally hit the end of the directions, he parked his truck beside a bunch of other trucks, SUVs, vans, and Hummers. Vehicles big enough for all sorts of bears.

He stepped out and looked around. Beautiful country that no rational human beings would be wandering around with close to zero degree temperatures and hard-packed snow and ice on the ground and covering the trees. Although for Crush, it was kind of pleasant.

He started walking, hearing music off in the distance. He didn’t know what he expected with it so cold out. Maybe the Malones would have a little barbeque. Seemed weird in the middle of an East Coast winter ...

Crush stopped at the top of the rise, gazing out over the area beneath.

During Crush’s time in undercover, he’d gone to more than a few outdoor raves. How could he not? The best drug dealers always showed up to those things. Either to sell or party, but they were there. But those raves clearly had nothing on this.

The first thing Crush could see was the giant dance floor packed with partially dressed shifters. Polar bears, Arctic foxes and wolves, Siberian tigers, snow leopards. Grizzlies and black bears, too, probably from Kamchatka, tough Russian country. Dressed in shorts, T-shirts, fur bikinis, flip-flops, they writhed on the dance floor to what sounded like Caribbean tech music.

A musk oxen—where the hell did they find a musk oxen?—ran behind Crush, two tigers and a leopard chasing him down. Farther down in the trees, Crush could see two polars fighting over a seal. When he looked down and to his left, he could see an ice lake through the trees and a rough hockey game going on.

And when he looked right next to him, Crush could see an Eskimo. Okay. Not really an Eskimo, but Blayne Thorpe dressed in the biggest, warmest parka zipped so high he couldn’t see her mouth, the hood pulled down so low over her forehead, he could barely see her sunglass-covered eyes. Big mittens on her hands, big ski boots on her feet. Honestly, he only recognized her because of her scent.

“Hi, Blayne.”

She said something, but he couldn’t really understand it through the layers of parka.

“Huh?”

She unzipped a bit of the parka so that he could now see her mouth. “I said, ‘Hi, Crush!’ ”

He laughed. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Okay. Cold.”

“Hon ... why are you here?”

“I’m marrying a man more Arctic bear than African lion. I figure I better get used to it. It’s not bad, though. They have a really big hot tent.”

“Hot tent?”

“Yep. All the more African-based shifters are there. I try not to see it as segregation, though.”

“I’m sure it’s done strictly for health reasons.”

“Can I ask you a question, Crush?”

“Sure.”

“Do you like Bo?”

“Uh ...”

“I don’t mean in a weird way. I’m not talking about hockey and I don’t mean sexually.”

“Oh, that’s good ... ’cause ... yeah.”

“I just mean in general.”

“Well ...”

“For instance, do you find him rude or overbearing or obsessively psychotic?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s good. Um ... do you ever want to stab him in the face or set him on fire or go back in time and destroy the origin of his bloodline?”

“No.”

And there in her big parka, Blayne did a little shimmy. “I knew it! I knew he could have friends!”

“I don’t know if we’re actually friends, though.”

“Sha-sha-sha. Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Okay.”

“Now come on.” She took his hand with her mitten-covered one and together they headed down toward the party.

“Is this your first Ice Party?” she asked as they walked.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too. I’m having a blast!”

“Even though you’re dressed like you’re on a National Geographic expedition?”

“Hot tent!” she reminded him.

They walked to the edge of the dance floor and that’s where Blayne stopped. She looked up at him and then out at the dancing bodies. Crush followed her line of sight. It took a second, but then he saw what Blayne was trying to show him. Malone.

In denim cutoff shorts, black motorcycle boots, and what he could only assume was a white-fur bikini top, Cella danced between two males. She held a Guinness in her left hand, leaving her right hand free to fist-pump at the most appropriate times, usually when one of her cousins yelled out, “Malones, call back!” And all the Malones yelled in return, “Maaaaalonnnnnnes!” Followed, of course, by what Crush had always termed the “Long Island Fist-Pump.”

Blowing out a breath, enjoying how he could see it in the air, Crush looked at the wolfdog still holding his hand. “Really?” he asked her.

Blayne laughed. “What did you expect? She’s a Long Island girl.”

“I guess.”

“And you’ve gotta admit, she looks fierce as hell in that outfit.”

Yeah. Crush did have to admit that.

“And I have to admit,” Blayne went on, “although freezing to death, I’m really enjoying the party side of the snow-loving.” She turned toward him, still holding his hand. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because something about you tells me that you’re the duck-out-the-first-time-you-get-the-chance guy. Unless you’re about to arrest someone.” She blinked, thought a moment, then asked, “Are you here to arr—”

“No, Blayne. I’m not here to arrest anyone.”

“Cool! Want me to get Cella for you?”

“Sure. Okay.”

“No problem.” She finally released the grip she had on him, put both her hands to her mouth and screamed out, “Cella!”

And yes, that was something he could have done himself, but why quibble?

Malone turned, saw them, and ran over. When she was about ten feet from Crush, she launched herself at him, hitting him hard, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck. “Hi!”

“H—”

She didn’t let him finish, her mouth pressing against his, arms tightening around his neck. And for those few seconds Crush forgot about everyone else.

When she finally pulled her mouth away, Crush still had his eyes closed.

“I’m glad you came.”

Wait. He had? When?

“I was afraid you were going to bail on me.”

Oh! Came as in attend. Got it. He was there. He was okay. He could handle this. Her. Whatever.

“I promised.”

“You did.” Still wrapped around him, she leaned back a bit and gave him a once-over. “You’re kind of overdressed.”

“I see that now.”

Cella took Crush on a tour. She loved this yearly party and was excited to be able to share something with him that she was pretty sure he’d enjoy. She got the feeling that MacDermot’s party from a couple of weeks ago was probably the first time in a long time that he’d gone to a party that had nothing to do with his job. He had to learn to relax. Guys like him ended up with heart conditions and high blood pressure. She didn’t want that for Crush and would do what she could to make sure he learned what relaxing was all about.

“There’s a couple of hockey games going on. Pro players over there and just-like-to-get-drunk-and-fuck-around-on-the-ice over there. There’s equipment to borrow if you didn’t bring your own. There’s ice holes over there with freshwater seals. I’m told they’re just like ring seals.”

“Baikal seals. Someone went all the way to Russia to get those?”

“Not when they can just go to the Maine seal farms. Have you been to any bear-only towns?”

“No.”

“So much to show you.”

“A lot more, I hope.”

And the way he looked at her when he said that ...

Cella shook her head. “Cut it out.”

“What?”

“Being so damn cute. More to see.” She pulled him over to the other side of the dance floor. “Picnic tables are here. Malones already grabbed eight of them, so you should be able to find someplace to sit.” She pointed at an outside barbeque grill. “That’s where you can get polar bear stuff. Seal, walrus, I think they have whale this year. Beluga or something.”

“Hi, Detective Crushek.”

Cella pulled Crush around to see her daughter and Josie walking up to them, a batch of the young cousins behind them.

“Hi, Meghan. Josie. It’s good to see you guys again.”

“We’re glad you came,” Meghan said. “But please don’t let my mother’s outfit bother you. It’s for shock value only at this point.”

“Thank you very much, but I look fabulous in this outfit. Don’t I look fabulous in this outfit, Crushek?”

“I can’t express to you how many ways I’m not getting between a mother and daughter.”

Meghan’s smile was bright and wide. “Smart man.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you two up to now?” Cella asked.

“Josie wants to flirt with the Callahans.”

“All right, but no separating and don’t let any of them abscond with her.” She pointed at Josie. “I promised your mom and grandmother we’d keep you safe since they didn’t want to come. So don’t do anything that will get me in trouble.”

“I promise, Aunt C.”

“Good. Now go.”

The girls walked off and Cella turned back to Crush. “What?” she asked when she saw him staring at her.

“Abscond with her?”

“Yeah. Callahans used to take mountain lions for brides.”

“Hundreds of years ago, right?”

“Uh ... last one was two years ago. Some chick from Arizona.”

“And the filing of kidnapping charges ... ?”

“Kidnapping charges? Why would they do that?”

“Because that’s what it is?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Look, why file kidnapping charges when you can haggle for some new RVs and ... wait. Where are you going?”

Cella caught up with the bear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I guess I should have realized sooner your whole family are gypsies.”

“Sssshhh,” Cella whispered. She took a desperate look around to make sure he hadn’t been heard. “Look, Crushek, we don’t use that word.”

“Why?”

“We just don’t,” she insisted. “It’s bigoted and you do not want to get on the wrong side of the Malones. Plus, we’ve got the Callahans here, the Ryans—”

“But there’s absconding. You’re worried your friend’s daughter will be absconded.”

“The Malones aren’t leaving little Josie on her own. No matter how cute a Callahan boy is.”

“Okay.”

“You can call us Travellers.”

“Are you Travellers?”

She shrugged. “We were.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a long story. Come on. I’m not done showing you around. And remember ...”

“Right. No bigotry. Just ... absconding.”

With a short laugh, Cella took Crush’s hand again and led him over to the big tent set up in the field. They’d had to up the size this year. “This used to be just for human mates, but the last couple of years we’ve been getting a lot more of the hot breeds.”

Cella walked into the tent, Crush behind her. With their own dance floor and their own barbeque pit, the other cats, wolves, bears, etc., lounged around in their heavy sweaters and ski pants with their thermals under that. Many of them still had on their jackets, but they all seemed to be having a good time.

Crush grunted and Cella looked up at him. “What?”

“Are those African wild dogs?”

Cella sighed, looking over at the dance floor. It was filled to capacity with completely sober wild dogs, howling, barking, and dancing to whatever eighties crap they were forcing the rest of the tent attendees to listen to.

“Yeah. I don’t really know why they’re here. I can’t believe any cats invited them. They’re not close to bears, and wolves can barely tolerate them.”

“I’ve discovered that if there’s a good party somewhere, wild dogs will find it and take over.”

“It used to be just one pack from out on the Island. Now there’s like seven packs who’ve attended the last two years. I will say, my mom thinks it’s great. The wild dogs love to get married and my mom networks at these things.”

“Smart lady.”

A hard fist rammed into Cella’s back.

“Hey.”

Yep. Hard and unyielding. “Why are you here?” Cella asked Dee-Ann.

“It’s my day off. My mate says, ‘Let’s go out. Dress warmly.’ Next thing I know, I’m trapped in the middle of nowhere New Jersey with cats, bears, wild dogs, and Blayne.”

“You know Blayne loves you.”

“Shut up.” Smith nodded at Crush. “How y’all doin’?”

“We’re fine,” Crush replied.

“You two are a ‘we’ now?”

“She was only talking to you,” Cella explained.

“Okay.” He studied Cella. “What?”

She motioned behind him and Cella watched Crush look over his shoulder and jump. Not that she blamed him; Novikov stood right behind him—breathing.

“Oh ... hi.”

“Hi.”

Crush glanced at Cella and Smith, then back at Novikov. “Do you want something?”

“You ever play football?”

“American or Australian rules?”

“For this discussion, American.”

“Yeah. I have.”

Novikov thought a moment. “Have you played Australian rules football?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

At that point, Cella and Smith locked gazes, watching each other to see who would start laughing first.

“So you wanna play football now? American football?”

“Okay. But I thought you’d be playing hockey with the guys outside.”

“That was my plan, but apparently my hockey skills are too frightening for some loser lion.”

The lion male sauntered up to Novikov and Smith’s eyes crossed, Cella covering her mouth to stop from laughing out loud.

“Why don’t,” Mitch O’Neill Shaw sneered, “you just admit that you fear my football skills? Just say it, Bro!”

“If you call me ‘bro’ again, I’m biting off your face.”

Crushek stared at Mitch for several seconds until he finally pointed his finger at him and said way louder than seemed necessary, “I sold you crack cocaine once.”

And everyone in that tent froze, slowly turning to look at the two males talking to each other.

Mitch, mate to Smith’s wolf cousin, Sissy Mae, scowled at Cella’s bear, making her wish she’d kept her gun on her. Then he snapped his fingers, scowl disappearing, and crowed, “And I sold you meth!”

“Hey,” both idiots, er, males said, laughing.

“I thought you were dead,” Crushek volunteered.

“They tried. Put a bounty on my head, shot me, forced me to recover in motherfuckin’ Tennessee.” Mitch glanced at Smith, his laughter dying off. “No offense, Dee-Ann.”

“Whatever,” the She-wolf grumbled.

“Anyway, eventually my mother got involved and ... well, you can imagine how it went from there. How about you?”

“Moved to the Brooklyn division.”

“Hey. That’s a nice deal.”

“Yeah. I guess. Had to cut my hair, though.”

“Are you two girls done?” Novikov snapped.

“Wait a minute,” Mitch complained. “You’re not playing for Novikov, are you?”

“He asked me first.”

“Bro, come on! Cops working together.”

“Can’t. It’s a moral thing.”

“Are you still going on about being moral?”

“It’s a lifestyle choice.”

“Are we doing this or what?” Novikov growled.

Crush faced her. “Are you cool with that?”

Startled, Cella looked around for who he could be talking to. When she didn’t find anyone, she replied, “Huh?”

“You invited me and I don’t want to desert you.”

“Awwwwwwwww,” Cella heard from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder to find a small pack of She-dogs standing there, watching. One of them, the black one married to Smith’s cousin Smitty, gestured at Crush and mouthed, He is soooo sweet. Then she added, Marry him.

While Cella debated if she could snap the little dog’s neck before Smith got in the way, another voice yelled for her from outside the tent.

Deciding the She-dog wouldn’t be much of a challenge for her, Cella walked across the tent and looked outside.

“Marly Callahan,” she called back. “What can I do ya for, lass?”

“A friendly challenge,” Marly offered. “You and me ... in the ring.”

Malones and Callahans cheered and bets were yelled to family bookies.

“Wait a minute,” Smith quietly cut in. “Callahan? Didn’t we just save her brother?”

“Exactly. Now she’s honoring me with a proper fight.”

“All right.”

Crush tapped her shoulder. “Should I assume I’m not deserting you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on.” She waved him away. “I’ll see you after your game.”

“Yeah, well... good luck.”

“You, too.”

Once he was gone, Smith asked, “So which one of you is falling faster?”

“Shut the fuck up. And you’re my cutman.”

Smith shrugged, reaching for the bowie knife she had holstered to her jeans. Cella caught her hand, growling as she scowled at her. “I mean, if I need you to do that, you idiot.”

“Malone, look at you sweet-talkin’ me.”

“All right,” Novikov finally admitted. “Maybe I underestimated him.”

“I’d heard he was good enough to play pro.”

“How does that help me?”

“It actually doesn’t.” Crush looked over at the other team. “It also doesn’t help that your teammates hate you so much, they’re playing for the Shaw brothers. Even MacRyrie ... he’s going after you like you’re covered in honey.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It wouldn’t be bad if we had a better team.”

“They are trying. Loyal fans.”

They both looked over at the panting, exhausted wild dog males who’d volunteered to play. When they saw Nov-kov staring at them, they smiled and waved—still panting.

“At least we have our own cheerleaders,” Crush offered.

“Yeah. Blayne and the Wild Dog-ettes.”

“I must say, your woman has a lot of energy.”

“She’s had eight Shirley Temples. At this point, she’s just out of control.” Novikov sighed. “I hate losing.”

“Me, too.”

“You have any ideas?”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Crushek?”

Crush smiled down at Meghan and Josie. “Aren’t you watching your mom fight?”

“No. No, thanks. Really rather not.”

Crush and Novikov laughed.

“Understood,” Crush said.

“I see you guys are losing,” Meghan observed—or stated the obvious, whichever.

“Yes, we are.”

“Is it true those are O’Neill lions?” Josie asked.

“The one doing the moonwalk ... that’s Mitch O’Neill. His half-brother, the one doing the rump shaker, is Brendon Shaw.”

“An O’Neill is an O’Neill, Mr. Crushek.”

“Not sure what that means.”

“That’s all right.” Meghan smiled. “Can you hold them off for a couple of minutes?”

“Sure.”

The two girls walked off and Novikov asked, “That’s really Malone’s daughter, huh?”

“You never met her before?”

“I have ... but I never really believed it.”

“Why not? They look alike.”

“And that’s about it.”

“Hi, Gramps.”

Meghan grinned up at her grandfather. The great Butch Malone.

“Hello, my love,” he said with a warm smile. “Having a good time?”

“I’m having a great time.”

“What about you, young Josie?”

“I always have a good time at the Ice Party, Uncle B.”

“Good. Good. Still can’t watch your ma fight, though, huh?”

“I’d rather not. If she’s not getting pummeled, she’s pummeling.” Unfortunately, while walking over, Meghan had managed to get there just as Marly Callahan landed a right cross to her mother’s jaw, sending the woman who’d given birth to Meghan flipping back and almost out of the ring, the ropes the only things that managed to keep her in.

“It’s a mutual pummeling right now,” her grandfather assured her. As if that helped somehow.

“Great,” Meghan lied.

Butch leaned down a bit. “So what do you think of your ma’s new beau?”

“We like him.” They really did, she and Josie. There was something about him. Something just ... honest. Her mother needed that in her life. More than she realized.

“Good. I think she likes him, too,” her grandfather confirmed.

“We know she does. Too bad he’s busy getting his ass kicked in football by an O’Neill.”

Every male Malone turned away from the fight, focusing on Meghan and Josie, just as the girls knew they would.

“That bear is losing to an O’Neill?”

“So’s Mr. Novikov.”

“What the hell ... ?” Uncle Tommy glanced at his father. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just the two of them, really. The wild dogs are the only other teammates they have, and they’re kind of ... tiny.”

“What about MacRyrie, Van Holtz—”

“All the Carnivores are playing with the O’Neills,” Josie said. Since she did “sad” well, Meg let her run with that.

“Betraying bastards,” her grandfather growled, all of Meghan’s uncles and male cousins agreeing.

“What do you want us to do, Da?” Liam asked.

“What do ya think?”

When Marly Callahan went down for a third straight time, Cella was declared the winner, her Aunt Kathleen raising Cella’s arm in the air.

“Nicely done, girl,” the older Malone praised her.

“Thanks.”

While everyone went to get or pay their gambling money, Cella stumbled over to Marly’s side, holding out her bloody hand. A big grin on her battered face, the She-lion grasped Cella’s hand and let her haul her to her feet. Arms around each other’s shoulders, they pressed their foreheads together and Marly whispered, “You took care of my brother, Malone. There’s a debt.”

“Don’t worry about that now. He’s safe, that’s all that matters.”

“Ma!”

The two women looked down at Cella’s daughter and Josie.

“Your girl sure is a beauty, Malone.”

“She is.”

“And so is her mountain lion friend.”

“You keep your brothers’ grubby paws off my girls. Both of ’em.”

“But we’ve got some lovely RVs to trade,” Marly teased.

“Ma,” Meghan pushed.

“What is it?”

“Football. Remember?”

“Did Novikov start a fight with the guys?”

“Not exactly ...”

A bottle of Gatorade was held up in front of his face and Crush took it, smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He cringed, unable to stop himself. “Malone, your face.”

“Yeah, but you should see what I did to Callahan.”

“I’m standing right here,” the She-lion complained, handing Novikov a separate bottle of the sports drink. “I can hear you.”

“What’s going on?”

“The wild dogs were running out of steam, so your brothers and cousins offered to play.”

“Uh-huh. Except you guys”—Cella motioned to Crush, Novikov, and the other hockey players who’d been playing with Mitch O’Neill—“are all standing here, with the ball. And those guys”—she motioned to the field where a battle between lion and tiger males was taking place—“are in their cat form and mauling each other.”

“I must admit, the game seemed to go off the track right after that first play.”

“Especially when the rest of the O’Neill males showed up.”

“Gwenie invited her uncles,” Blayne chirped in, her entire body bouncing around in kind of a mix of 90s-style dancing and just a hyperactive fit. “Apparently, the O’Neills hate the Malones. I had no idea!”

Cella studied Blayne. “Have you been drinking Shirley Temples again?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” Blayne yelled before she backflipped away from them.

“Should you go after her?” Crush asked Novikov.

“No. She’s heading right for that tree over there and—bam! Down she goes. She’ll be out for a bit.” He shrugged, focusing back on the fight. “I’ll scrape her up later.”

“You having a good time?” Malone asked him.

“Yeah. I’m having a great time.”

“Good.”

He cringed. “But I can’t ignore this anymore.” He took the towel he had hanging around his neck and wiped the blood off Cella’s face, moving carefully so as not to hurt her any more than she had been.

Of course, he had to grip her chin a little tighter to keep her from starting another fight when the wild dog females all sighed out, “Awwwwww” behind them.

MacRyrie tapped his shoulder. “Uh ... Crushek?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have brothers?”

Crush looked at Malone, then released her and faced the grizzly. “Why do you ask?”

MacRyrie pointed behind them and they all turned. Chazz and Gray stood there in T-shirts and loose dolphin shorts that no men their size should ever wear. In the distance, Crush could see his brothers’ wives and cubs at a picnic table, but if they knew what his brothers were up to, they didn’t seem to notice or care.

The three of them scowled at each other, none of them speaking. Then Gray and Chazz looked at Cella and back at him, Gray raising his arms in what Crush felt was a clear challenge and ... well ... what did anyone expect?

Clothes went flying, Crush’s jeans hitting Cella in the face, and then three polar bears were in the middle of a brawl right there. Since cats fought all the time, the Malone-O’Neill battle going on behind them was quickly forgotten as everyone focused on the vicious bear scrimmage.

“So, he’s not close to his family then?” one of the wild dog females guessed.

“There’s only the three of them and no, they’re not close.”

Marly rested her elbow on Cella’s shoulder. “Anyone a little bothered that it’s those two against poor Crushek?”

Cella was more than a little bothered, but who would get between three polar bears during a fight? But just as she had the thought, Novikov and MacRyrie ran past her, both in their shifted form. A few seconds after that, the rest of the first-string players followed.

“Does Novikov have tusks?” Marly asked.

“They’re not tusks,” Blayne yelled while slowly dragging herself to her feet. “They’re fangs. Like the mighty saber-toothed cat of yore.”

Marly scratched her head. “Yore?”