Lycan Redemption

Chapter Two

“Patrick?” Myka called out as she entered the small mudroom connected to the kitchen.

She hung her coat on a hook by the door and pulled her boots off. Patrick had been helping her in the barn earlier, but once they’d gotten close to finishing up the last stall, she’d sent him to the house to get cleaned up for dinner. The delay with Galen may have given the little boy just enough time to find trouble.

Patrick was a great kid with a huge heart, but he had an inclination for mischief. There wasn’t a mean bone in the kid’s body. Unfortunately, he was not only the spitting image of Travis physically but had inherited his father’s penchant for attracting trouble. Travis never looked for trouble, but it had persistently followed him wherever he’d gone. A slight flutter of panic hit her in the gut when she remembered the late-night phone call six months ago from Travis’s employer, and she hurried down the hall to check the bathroom.

She smiled in relief when she peeked through the crack of the partially closed door and saw Patrick. He was standing on the red step stool she’d gotten him, in front of the sink, brushing his teeth. She shook her head before patting the door lightly.

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen. Hurry up. We’re going to have company.”

She didn’t wait for his answer as she made her way back to the kitchen. The robust scent of the roast, potatoes, and carrots she’d put in the Crock-Pot this morning wafted enticingly through the house. She washed her hands, retrieved a head of lettuce from the fridge, rinsed it, and placed it on a cutting board. She found a bowl in the lower cabinet, then got to work cutting up the green leaves for salad.

Once finished, she rinsed the knife and cutting board before placing them in the strainer to air-dry. By the time she’d sprinkled shredded cheese on the salad and gotten the dressing out, Patrick was standing beside her.

“Who’s coming for dinner? We never have guests.”

She was happy to see him exert the general enthusiasm and curiosity a little boy should about such a thing. She’d been worried about Patrick for months after Travis’s death. He’d been sullen, withdrawn, and depressed for much longer than she thought was healthy. With the help of Ms. Case—Betty, a psychiatrist who’d chosen Loring, Montana, for her retirement home—Patrick had slowly shown improvement over the past few months. Betty had refused any kind of payment for helping Patrick, which had been a blessing since Myka hadn’t had the funds to pay for therapy. That hadn’t stopped her from slipping Betty fresh eggs and produce here and there whenever possible.

Patrick was technically supposed to start kindergarten in a couple weeks, but Betty suggested waiting until next year considering the recent trauma of losing his father. Myka had agreed, but in compromise took him to a local day care once a week for a supervised play day. She and Betty both wanted Patrick to maintain as normal of a life as possible in the rural community, wanted to expose him to other children and give him every opportunity to have friends and be a typical kid.

On the day that Patrick went to day care, Myka took care of errands and occasionally made the trip to neighboring Malta for supplies that weren’t always readily available in her small community. Over time, Patrick had come out of his shell, and had become a happy, carefree boy. Myka would always struggle with her brother’s death, and she was an adult who understood that death was a part of life. She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Patrick felt, a child who couldn’t comprehend the full meaning of death.

He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that his father was never coming back. How did one explain death to a five-year-old? She’d had no idea, and that was where their guardian angel, Betty, had entered. While Myka wasn’t an atheist, she didn’t belong to a specific religion either. She believed that there was a higher power out there somewhere, someone who had created the earth and everything on it—the universe, for that matter—but she wasn’t sure exactly who or what that someone was. However, when she and Betty together decided that Patrick might deal better with his father’s passing if he thought of Travis as an angel, Myka had had no problem with it if it provided any measure of comfort for him.

Besides, why couldn’t angels exist? Weren’t angels, after all, beings of protection, light, and kindness? An angel didn’t necessarily have to have a halo and wings, as was the wide-believed notion. An angel, in her opinion, was someone who came into one’s life when all hope seemed lost. Someone who lent a guiding hand and a kind heart. Someone who could help one find the right path in life. Travis would do all of that and more for Patrick if he were still alive. If there was an afterlife, she had no doubt he’d do that for Patrick from there as well.

“We have a new farmhand, Patrick. His name is Galen, but you should call him Mr.—” That’s when she realized he hadn’t told her his last name.

“The last name is Soloman, but I’d prefer to be called Galen if that would be okay with you, Myka.”

She spun around to find Galen standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I knocked, but you were obviously preoccupied.”

“It’s okay.”

“Patrick, this is Galen Soloman. If he doesn’t mind you calling him Galen, I’m okay with that.”

She quietly watched as Patrick sized Galen up. After a few moments of apparent indecision, he slowly walked to him, cocked his head to the side, and offered his hand. The resemblance to Travis was uncanny, but she saw traits coming out that were uniquely Patrick as well.

Galen squatted, then firmly but gently clasped Patrick’s hand. Myka swallowed around a lump in her throat. There was something about watching a big man like Galen interact with a little boy like Patrick that melted her heart. Galen stood and followed Patrick over to the table. Suddenly, the moderately sized kitchen felt cramped.

“Have a seat. I’m finishing up dinner.”

“Anything I can help with?” Galen asked.

Patrick sat across the table from Galen, intently watching every move he made, but Galen didn’t seem to mind.

“Patrick, why don’t you ask Galen to help you set the table?”

“Wanna help?” Patrick asked.

“Sure.” Galen nodded.

She put the pot roast and veggies on a platter while Galen and Patrick got plates, silverware, and glasses placed for each of them. After putting the food on the table, and filling the glasses with iced tea—milk for Patrick—they all sat down. She glanced at Galen. It would take her a while to get used to his size. He had to be a good six and a half feet tall. His biceps were well-defined, along with the muscles in his forearms, and his fingers were long and straight and looked made for hard labor. He was quite an amazing-looking man, but she felt like a midget next to him. Barely topping out at five feet, she’d grown accustomed to feeling small around most others, but Galen was a whole other story.

“Dang it!” She snapped her fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

“Forgot the biscuits.”

“Looks like a wonderful dinner, Myka. I’m okay with no biscuits,” Galen said.

“Me too!” Patrick readily agreed.

She couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay. No biscuits. Eat up.”

She was about to ask Patrick if he needed help getting his food, when he held his plate up, and Galen began scooping some roast and veggies onto it.

“Enough?” Galen asked, and Patrick nodded.

Galen then passed the platter to Myka and waited until she was finished before filling his own plate. She couldn’t deny he had great manners.

“Patrick, don’t forget your salad.”

“Aw, I don’t want none,” he scoffed.

“It’ll help you grow big and strong,” Galen said before flexing his bicep at him.

Patrick’s eyes widened, and he piled some lettuce high on his plate before smothering it in dressing. She wished she was able to convince Patrick to eat the things he didn’t necessarily want with that trick, but was sure her muscles weren’t anywhere near as convincing as Galen’s. After she and Galen got their salad, they began to eat. When Galen took his first bite, his eyes closed, and he groaned.

“Something wrong?” she said in alarm.

His hazel eyes opened, and the force of his stare slammed into her.

“Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a meal this incredible.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “There’s plenty. Don’t be shy. I have pie for dessert.”

“Pie? Ohhhh. I think I’m in heaven,” Galen answered.

Myka’s tummy warmed with contentment at the compliment.

“That’s where Daddy is,” Patrick said before cramming some roast into his mouth.

Galen cast a quick glance at Myka before taking another bite.

“Heaven is lucky to have him,” Galen said.

Myka’s tension drained as easily as it had mounted when Patrick seemed satisfied with Galen’s comment. The rest of dinner was fairly quiet, her attention captured by the amount of food Galen ate. She and Patrick usually had loads of leftovers from pot roast night, but now barely enough remained for one plateful—which was a good thing in her opinion since she wouldn’t have to figure out how to get it all eaten before it went bad. She hated wasting food.

After Galen and Patrick helped her clean off the table, she cut pieces of peach pie for them all.

“Can I watch cartoons while I eat my pie?” Patrick asked.

“You know we don’t watch television while we eat, right?”

He frowned and shook his head.

“But I’ll let you do it this one time.”

“Woo hoo!” Patrick jumped up and carried the pie as fast as he could without spilling it toward the living room.

“He’s a great kid,” Galen said before taking a bite of the pie.

This time when he closed his eyes and moaned, she forced back a giggle.

“He is a great kid. Would you like some coffee?”

“If it’s not an inconvenience.”

“None at all.” She poured them both a cup before sitting back down. “You have a way with him,” she said before taking a bite.

Galen said nothing. As far as she could tell thus far, he wasn’t a man of many words. Some might take that as a sign that he was hiding something, and he very well could be for all she knew. He had an edge about him that she couldn’t quite describe. It was as if his quietness was deliberate. Deliberate for what reason she wasn’t sure. If she had to take a guess, she’d say that he did it to blend into the background.

Even when he’d approached her from the tree line, he’d had a way with his body language. He was one of those rare people who could communicate with his actions in a way that was natural and unnoticeable until scrutinized. People spoke volumes with body language regularly, but most didn’t realize they were doing it. On the other hand, most didn’t pick up on it either, so reliant on technology for communication in this day and age.

Galen didn’t strike her as a guy who’d give much notice to today’s gadgets and technology. He reminded her of a predator who relied solely on instinct. She didn’t understand why she thought all of this about someone she’d only just met, and chastised herself for jumping to conclusions about him when she had no idea if anything she was thinking was true. Judging people without knowing them was one of man’s great downfalls.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

She watched him for any hint that he might be in trouble or running. That question would make most who were flinch or give some telltale sign that it was a touchy subject. Galen didn’t miss a beat as he forked the last bite of his pie into his mouth.

“All over,” he said.

“Well that narrows it down,” she said before sipping her steamy black coffee from her favorite red mug.

He swallowed and trained his hazel eyes on her. After a couple minutes, she had to quell the urge to squirm under his gaze. The way he watched her was unsettling, but also managed to start a slow fire burning in her belly.

Galen watched Myka. She tried hard to conceal the discomfort she felt under his gaze, but he was an expert at reading people. Her questions weren’t meant to be nosy. He was sure of it. Strangely, he wished he could tell her everything about his life, including the current fucked-up predicament he was in. But he couldn’t.

He’d been in tune to his instincts and body every second of every day for as long as he could remember, but Myka had the ability to make him forget everything with one smile of her full, pouty lips. He wanted to throw her to the floor, rip her clothes off with his teeth, and claim her. But not only that. It wasn’t just about sex. He wanted to hold her in his arms, feel her snuggled against his chest as her breaths from their lovemaking evened out into sleep.

A slow ache had started in his chest when he’d first seen her, and now just a short time later, that ache had spread throughout every cell and into every limb. It was a yearning, a throbbing beat of need that would get stronger every day.

He was lonely, and now that he’d found his mate, all he wanted was a chance to love her, to make her love him. He didn’t have that luxury. If he lost focus, if he slipped up, he could place her in danger. Being here in itself was risky, and he should simply disappear from her life and move on tonight. But he was a predator, and his wolf wanted its mate nearly as bad as his human side did. He was an ancient. His instincts were sharpened by experience, and if he kept his head on straight, he could have this stolen, precious time with her without putting her in danger.

“Myka.” Her name tasted as sweet on his lips as he knew she would. “I’m not in trouble with the law.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. He wasn’t in trouble with the law. His trouble involved something far deadlier than the justice system. If he could only explain to her what he was, but he could not open his world to her since he had no intention of claiming her. Maybe one day he’d be able to clean up the mess he was in and come back for her, but this was not that time, no matter how much his soul, his heart screamed that they didn’t care. They wanted her at any cost.

He couldn’t risk her life, and he couldn’t forget about Patrick either. The boy was smart and intuitive. He’d liked him instantly, and Patrick’s curiosity had been an indication that he liked Galen as well. He doubted it would be easy to get close to Patrick with the recent loss of his father. While Galen was fond of Patrick, would have no problem being a father to him, he didn’t want to encourage the relationship only to end up hurting the kid in the end.

“Oh! I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. You have every right to ask that of me. After all, I am a stranger, and I’m staying at your place.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’m a private man, but I give you my word that I will never do anything to hurt you or Patrick. I will work hard for you, and I will watch over both of you while I’m here.”

She smiled at him, and his heart nearly leaped up in his throat. Damn but she was beautiful. And tiny. She was so small he was worried she might break if he bumped into her. He had a foot and a half on her, and he had to be careful not to let his wolf get too rambunctious. The fact that he could hurt her so easily scared the hell out of him.

“Fair enough. Did you find your room in the barn all right?”

He nodded.

“I’ll get you some towels, sheets, and that blanket then.”

When she reached for his empty plate, he covered her hand with his. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open when she looked up at him. The electricity that sparked from that touch shot straight to his groin, and he beat down the growl that threatened to erupt from his chest. He was sure she’d felt it too.

“I’ll clean up.”

She nodded, and slowly tugged her hand from under his before getting up and hurriedly disappearing into the other room. He licked his lips and threatened his cock with bodily harm if it didn’t settle down. Unfortunately, it took his threat as a challenge. Myka might be small, but she had a nice curvy butt he’d like to sink his fingers into while pounding into her sweet, creamy— Stop it! He growled to himself.

By the time he’d put the plates in the sink, she’d returned. Patrick followed her with his own plate and glass.

“You leaving now, Galen?” he asked as he put his dishes in the sink.

“Yep. Myka says I have to stay in the barn.” He winked at Patrick. “Which is exactly where I belong.”

Patrick grinned, waved, then ran back into the other room.

“Here.” Myka handed him the pile of linens.

“Thank you. What do you need me to do in the morning? I’m an early riser.”

That was an understatement. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept for more than a couple hours.

“I stripped the stalls today. There are six of them. They will need picked out every day and stripped once a week. I’ll show you what and how much to feed the horses as well. They will need watered daily too. It’s taken care of for this evening. I turn them out every morning unless the weather is bad. Two of the horses, the black-and-white mare and gelding named Buddy and Chloe, are mine—actually, Buddy is Patrick’s. The other four are boarders. Patrick is not allowed around the horses unsupervised. There are some repairs that need done on the house, barn, and chicken coop, and the pasture fencing will need maintained regularly. There’s more, but I’ll fill you in as we go along.”

Which meant she’d fill him in if he was still around.

“See you tomorrow then, Myka.”

“Oh. Tomorrow, Mr. Ryan—Tom—will be delivering my hay stock for the rest of fall and winter. I’ll need help unloading and stacking it in the barn. It’s a big load, around six hundred bales.”

He frowned. “Did you have someone else besides me lined up to help tomorrow?”

“Nope. It would have been a long day for me and Tom. I’m glad you’ll be here to help. Tom will be happy to see you too.”

“Are you telling me that you would have unloaded all six hundred bales yourself?”

“No. Tom helps.”

He was impressed if a little slip of a thing like her could unload six hundred bales of hay in a day. He wasn’t sexist by any means. He’d met women in his time who were stronger than a lot of men. He supposed he was reverting back to caveman days because she was his mate. He didn’t like the thought of her working so hard. Whether she was in shape and strong or not, her size alone would make it a challenge to handle the awkward, heavy bales.

“I’m sure Tom and I can deal with the hay tomorrow if you have other things to do.”

“I always do my part.” She squared her slim shoulders.

He hadn’t thought it would be that easy to dissuade her. Although he’d known her a short time, he had no doubt of her responsible and probably stubborn nature. She would have never gotten by on her own out here taking care of Patrick thus far without those two traits. He admired her for her strength, but at the same time hoped his stay would make things easier for her. Tomorrow he’d have to make sure to find a way to distract her as much as possible from the hay.

“I have no doubt of that.”

“Good night, Galen.”

“Good night, Myka.”

He carried the linens to the small apartment in the back of the barn and made the bed after putting the towels in a small cabinet in the bathroom. Afterward, he stretched out on his back on the surprisingly comfortable twin-sized bed. His feet hung off the end, but it was heaven to be lying on something other than the hard ground. His wolf itched to get out, but he refused.

Not tonight.

He closed his eyes. It was still fairly early, but he knew once the deep of night kicked in, he’d be wide awake, and decided to grab a couple hours of much-needed sleep now if possible. As his muscles relaxed, his instincts sharpened and stood on alert, waiting to sound the alarm bells if any type of danger was detected. Any noise, any scent that didn’t belong would set off his inner warning.

He pulled in a deep breath. Speaking of scent. Myka’s called to him with every breath he took. She had the main scent that all potential mates carried, but the mated scent was the one that called to him strongest. The mated scent was detectable only by one’s fated mate. When that second scent had hit him earlier, his knees had nearly buckled under him. Knowing that he was the only one privileged to that second scent made it all that much harder to resist claiming her.

He groaned and stretched his arms over his head, then linked his fingers behind his neck. Staying here with Myka without touching her was going to be one hell of a challenge.