The Mane Squeeze

EPILOGUE

Gwen jumped out of the cab and tossed money at the driver. “Come on!” she ordered Blayne. “We’re late.”

“I know.” Blayne handed off the bags she’d held throughout the trip to Gwen and slid across the seat and out the door. “Merry Christmas!” she said to the driver, who looked at her in surprise.

“Aren’t you bubbly?”

“It’s Christmas!” Blayne cheered, taking one of the heavy bags from Gwen.

“It’s Christmas Eve, so don’t annoy me.” Together they ran up the stairs to the front door.

Gwen rang the doorbell and followed with a knock, not sure she could be heard over the Christmas music. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blayne look over her shoulder again.

“What’s with you?”

“Ever feel like you’re being followed?”

“No.”

“I do.”

“Sure it’s not just her?”

Blayne turned her head to look at Gwen, but caught sight of Dee-Ann standing behind them.

“Ahh! Where the hell did you come from?”

“Momma says from the love she shares with my daddy,” Dee calmly replied.

Blayne said, “Awwww,” and Gwen desperately stabbed at the doorbell again until it opened.

“You are late, feline.”

“Don’t you have a cold war to start?” Gwen asked as she walked past Sabina.

“And where is my chair?”

“He’s an artist,” Gwen gleefully reminded the wild dog. “He won’t be rushed.” She shoved the bag at Sabina. “Here’s your damn chocolate cakes.”

Sabina took the bags from Gwen and Blayne and then looked them over.

“What are you wearing?”

Blayne glanced down at the tiny velvet green minidress she wore. “Jess asked us to be Santa’s helpers tonight.”

“You look like Santa’s whores. And has Santa been pimp-slapping you all over New York?”

Gwen took a step toward the mouthy wild dog, but Blayne caught her arm. “We came right from practice. We’ll wipe the blood off.”

“Do that,” the Russian ordered before heading off to the kitchen with the cakes.

“And happy fucking holidays to you, too.”

“Ignore her.” Blayne shook off the rudeness like she always did and grabbed Gwen’s hand, dragging her into the party.

“Blayne!” the crowd called out as soon as she walked in.

Gwen pushed Blayne toward her waiting friends and cut through the crowd. She saw Ric and said, “Where’s my honey bun?”

He laughed. “Upstairs, I think. And was that the lovely Dee-Ann I just saw come in with you?”

“Yeah. And if you can find her again, more power to you.” She kissed his cheek and kept moving through the crowd until she saw Mitch and Sissy kissing on the stairs.

“Find a room,” she teased, stepping over them.

“Don’t begrudge us our forbidden love,” her brother playfully chastised.

Laughing, Gwen jogged up the stairs. “Hey, Bren.”

“Hey, Gwenie. You look cute.”

“Thanks.” As Gwen went past him, she saw Ronnie Lee, slammed back into the wall, and bared her fangs at her while hissing.

“Hey, darlin’,” Ronnie Lee said with that big smile. “Have a wonderful holiday!”

Still hissing in very clear warning, Gwen went down the hall, keeping her back to the wall until Ronnie and Bren disappeared down the stairs. She turned and kept moving until she reached another set of stairs. She ran up those, passing others she knew, wishing some a happy holiday, ignoring others she didn’t really like.

She caught sight of Jess coming out of a room. She slowed down and stopped in front of her. “How ya doin’, sweetie?”

“Everybody gets morning sickness in the first trimester. Leave it to me to get it in the second.”

“At least two of my aunts got it in the second. You have Saltines?”

She held up the packet. “But it’s Christmas. I should be gorging, not purging.”

“Now you’re like all those Hollywood stars.”

She smirked. “Thanks.”

“Have you seen my honey bun?”

Jess nodded. “See those stairs at the end of the hall? Go all the way up and the door at the end will take you to the roof. He’s been up there for like an hour.”

“You know how he is about crowds.” Gwen headed toward the stairs. “How long before you need me?”

“Another ten, fifteen…I…I…” Hearing retching noises, Gwen spun around to see Jess dashing back into the bedroom with her hand over her mouth. Gwen started to head toward her, but she saw Smitty.

“She needs you.”

“I know.” He held up a soda can. “I got her some ginger ale.”

He winked and disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Following Jess’s directions, Gwen found Lock right where Jess had said he’d be. On the roof.

Gwen sat across from him, her legs straddling the roof’s ledge. It was a healthy drop if either of them fell, but hell…they’d survived going over a mountain, they could survive this.

Lock smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem.” He leaned in and kissed her and like always she lost herself in that kiss. Hard not to when he had those damn lips that did something to her every time.

Lock was the first to pull back, but he nuzzled his nose against hers, and Gwen ended up giggling.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he sighed.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” She took his hand between her own. “You ready for tomorrow?”

His eyes crossed, making Gwen giggle more.

“Breakfast at my parents’ and dinner at your mom’s? Can’t wait.”

“Let’s get through tomorrow and then for New Year’s Eve it’ll just be you, me, champagne, Chinese food from down the block, and your favorite honey.”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely. We’ll need the break.”

“You sure you want to miss out on the yearly Shaw extravaganza at his hotel?” When Gwen only stared at him, he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Good. Now let’s get downstairs.” She started to get up, but Lock tugged her back down.

“Wait.”

“I want to give you something,” Lock said, digging deep for the balls to do this.

“I thought we were going to wait until Christmas…especially important since I haven’t actually finished wrapping.”

“This can’t wait.” Lock took a deep breath and quickly placed his gift into her palm. “Here.”

Gwen opened her hand, gazing down at it until she said, “It’s an engagement ring.”

“Yeah. It had a box. Two, actually, including one of those blue Tiffany ones.”

Slowly Gwen’s gaze lifted to his. “It had a box?”

“Yeah. I was holding it, trying to think of the best way to ask you to marry me and I…uh…accidentally crushed it.”

“I see.”

“The ring’s fine, though. Right?” He leaned in, trying to look. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s…” Gwen suddenly looked up at him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Badly but…yes.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Mitch still calls you ‘that bastard’ and Bren won’t even speak to you and I’m almost positive something is going on between my mother and one, if not all, of your uncles and Blayne is well…Blayne, and my Uncle Cally is still talking about taking a two-by-four to the back of your head and—”

“Gwen. They’re not you. I love you. I want to marry you.”

“You’re sure?”

Lock laughed. “Of course I’m sure. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But…I don’t want to rush you into anything. So if you feel more comfortable—”

Gwen slipped the ring on her left index finger. “It fits. And it’s perfect.”

“I went for subtle. Hope that was okay.”

“Perfect.”

She looked up at him and Lock was reaching for her, knowing what her answer would be from the love in her eyes, when the roof door slammed opened and Blayne walked out. “Hey. They want to start giving out the gifts so…”

Lock didn’t know what Blayne saw or if the friends had some nonverbal communication that passed between them but suddenly Blayne shot forward and grabbed Gwen’s hand.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

“Blayne,” Gwen warned. “Don’t do anything stup—Blayne!”

Lock watched as Blayne dragged his fiancée off the roof.

He charged after them, but the pair moved like lightning, their derby skills allowing Blayne to drag Gwen through the crowd of people in the wild dog house, dodging bodies and kids and stuff with amazing ease.

As Lock made it down the stairs to the first floor, people instantly moving out of his way while the wild dog pups followed behind him as they always did, hoping he’d roar at them, Blayne jumped up on a coffee table in the middle of the room, holding Gwen’s hand up.

“They’re engaged!” the wolfdog screamed out.

There was a long shocked pause, and then the room erupted into hysterical cheers, the wild dogs rushing forward while Ric smiled, the Smith wolves appeared confused, and the Shaw brothers scowled at Lock.

He shrugged at them and said, “At least I’m marrying mine.”

“Bastard,” Mitch snarled.

“Son of a bitch,” Bren snapped before both brothers stormed off.

As the crowd of well-wishers surged, Gwen was suddenly spit out of the group and right into Lock’s arms.

“Are you okay?” He put her on her feet but kept his arms around her.

“Yeah, but…” She motioned to the crowd around Blayne, Ric, and a rather unwell-looking Jess. “Shouldn’t they be congratulating us?”

“That’s usually the protocol, but they’re wild dogs, which automatically translates to weird.”

“I guess, but still.”

Not caring about any of that, Lock lifted Gwen into his arms and held her close, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“So,” he said, rubbing his nose against hers, “I’m assuming when we were on the roof you were about to say yes.”

Gwen laughed. “Yeah. I was about to.” She kissed him. “And yes. I’ll marry you.”

Pulling her closer, Lock went in to kiss Gwen again, but she pulled back.

“You should know that an O’Neill female getting married? That hasn’t happened since the druids ruled Ireland. So you should be prepared for me and Blayne to be doing a little cousin torturing.”

“If you’re going to do that, Mr. Mittens, then we should really have some fun and think about a big wedding.”

Gwen’s face scrunched up in clear disapproval.

“Big wedding? You, who hates being the center of attention and me who hates…everything else?”

“Think about it. Your mother forced to work with mine—who has huge moral issues over large weddings—while your brothers are forced to help them by your mother. In the meantime you, me, Blayne, Ric, Jess, and Dee, if we can actually find her, are in Hawaii. By the time we get back, we’ll be married, and the wedding will only be a nightmare party we have to get through.”

“Diabolical.”

“I am my mother’s son.”

Gwen brushed her hand across his chest and shoulders, before slipping her arms around his neck, and Lock hiked her up a bit so they could look each other in the eye.

Kissing his cheek, Gwen asked, “And, baby?”

Lock sighed as she kissed his neck. “Uh-huh?”

“For the wedding night—” kissed his jaw “—when we’re alone…”

“Uh-huh?” he asked again seconds before he started humming, his eyes crossing as her tongue traced his ear and those damn nails dragged along the corded muscles of his neck.

“You’ll wear the kilt, right?” And Lock burst out laughing, the amazing feline in his arms grinning and snuggling closer, her body fitting perfectly against his. “Ya know? Just for me?”