“I thought you said she was an average Philly girl?”

“Average Philly girl does not automatically translate into easy maintenance. She probably wants a lot of jewelry and a nice car.”

“All of which you can now afford.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t want somebody I have to buy.”

“You don’t even know this woman and already you’re accusing her of being available for purchase?”

“Because it makes me feel better that I’ll never get her!” Lock dropped listlessly against the tree. “She uses that shampoo,” he sighed.

“What shampoo?”

“The one with honey in it.”

Ric’s eyes crossed. “Oh, my God.”

“She was sitting in that tree, her leg bleeding out, and all I could think about was how good her hair smelled.”

“Why was she sitting in a tree?”

“She was hiding from the organ thieves.”

Ric blinked. “Sorry?”

“Do you really want me to explain it?”

“Not particularly.”

Lock stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I need to get her out of my head. That’s the bottom line.”

Ric got to his feet and gave a quick all-over shake to get the dust and dirt off. “Think you can?”

Lock shrugged and headed back toward the Van Holtz summerhouse. “Not really.”

Gwen continued to rub her forehead and seriously considered mixing the heavy-duty pain meds with some tequila. Dangerous to her system? Yes. Able to temporarily wipe out the conversation she’d just had with her mother? Possibly.

She should have waited. She should have waited until she was back home, her mother was back from that spa, and everyone was relaxed and calm. That’s what she should have done, but she also knew she couldn’t wait. If Gwen waited, she’d talk herself out of it. And, for the first time in a very long time, this was something she wanted more than her next breath.

Hell. It was a future. Her future. And she was going to build it herself. How could she walk away from that?

She couldn’t. Not now, not ever. But Gwen forgot how much damage her mother could do simply with words. The woman didn’t need claws or fangs, she had her mouth and the ability to wield Irish-Catholic guilt like a ninja sword.

Sticking her cell phone in the back pocket of her denim shorts, Gwen thought again about getting those pain pills, but without the tequila. Debating on calling for assistance or actually getting off her ass, she was relieved when someone came out of the house—until Brendon stomped down the steps and faced her.

He held up his cell phone. “Why did your mother just spend ten minutes yelling at me?”

“Oh, my God.” Gwen dropped her head into her hands.

“You’re moving to NewYork?”

“Look, Brendon, I’m really sorry about—”

“You’ll stay at my hotel.”

Gwen stared up at him. Did he have to look so much like Mitch? And did he realize that looking like Mitch only made him a giant, big-maned target? Especially when he was giving her orders the way Mitch tried to do.

“I appreciate the offer—”

“It wasn’t an offer,” Brendon told her flatly. “If your mother is going to blame me for this—and my God, the yelling—then you’re staying at my hotel until we find you an acceptable place to live, in a neighborhood I’ve researched and approved.”

That he’d researched and…“Actually, I’m gonna stay with Blayne.”

“After Blayne finished squealing in joy about you moving, because apparently she didn’t know—and breaking her cell phone in half when your mother called her—she told me there was no way you two would ever room together after what happened on your senior class trip.”

Gwen would kill that wolfdog if she weren’t her new business partner.

“Brendon—”

“I won’t have my little sister living in some rat-infested hellhole that I wouldn’t put my worst enemy in.”

All right. That was it. “First off, I am not your little—”

The front door banged open again, cutting off Gwen’s pointed but brutal words.

“Hey, darlin’?” Gwen rolled her eyes in frustration as Brendon’s backwoods mate came out on the porch.

“Where’s that fire extinguisher?”

“Fire extinguisher?”

“Dogs. Oven. You do the math.”

“Again? Goddamnit! I can’t trust those dogs alone for two minutes.” He jogged up the porch stairs, patting Gwen on the shoulder as he passed her. “I’ll be right back.”

As Brendon dashed inside, the screen door slamming shut behind him, Ronnie Lee sat down next to Gwen.

After a full minute of silent seething, Gwen looked over at Ronnie. The She-wolf gave her that warm smile that always set Gwen’s teeth on edge. At some point in her life, Gwen would admit it wasn’t fair to take out her personal rage and anger on some helpless She-wolf, but she was cat and the canine was in her space.

What exactly did the hillbilly expect to happen?

“What the hell you lookin’ at?” Gwen snapped.

Ronnie’s smile didn’t fade, although, it did become a tad brittle. “Now, I know it ain’t been easy puttin’

up with my Brendon. He can be a bossy so-and-so as only a male lion can be, but he’s doing what he thinks is best and he does that because he likes you so much and sees you as his little sister.”