Betrayed Forced Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #4)

“Does salmonella even affect shifters?” Rosa asks, immediately looking over her shoulder.

“I’ve seen cases before,” Veronica says, throwing a bare clove of garlic into a bowl and dropping the scraps into the garbage, “but only in humans. At least, as far as I know.”

“Oh, shifters don’t usually use human hospitals,” Linnea says.

“Except Percy,” Veronica laughs, tossing her head to get a piece of hair out of her eyes.

“Hey!” Maisie says, glancing at me. “We said no guy talk.”

“Percy isn’t a guy,” I say, leaning over and taking a grape from the spread of snacks. Even when asking for help to put together the Thanksgiving meal, Linnea still plays hostess. “He’s a clown.”

“Fair,” Veronica says, a little smile on her face, and it makes me want to smash the grape in my hand. Instead, I pop it into my mouth, focusing on the burst of juice and how the skin breaks between my teeth.

“Mom!” Rosa says, turning when an older woman walks into the room, holding a bottle of wine. When I turn, I see Bernice Justine, the woman who kept us safe for all those years, staring back at me. She looks older than she is, but there’s a light in her eyes again for the first time in a long time.

“I didn’t know you’d be here this early!” Rosa says, her voice shrill as she looks her mom over again, then hugs her.

“My flight got in early,” Bernice says, “Bigby and Kaila picked me up, brought me here. I’m—I figured I would bring wine. And nonalcoholic wine, for the mothers-to-be.”

“Please, Mrs. Justine,” Linnea says, “feel free to rest. You must be tired from your flight.”

“Actually,” she says, clearing her throat and glancing around the room. Then, quickly, she holds up her hand, which has a diamond ring on it.

“Mom?” Rosa says, her eyes going wide, her hands rising to her mouth. “What—”

“I was tired of being Mrs. Justine,” Bernice says, smiling down at her ring, then glancing up at Rosa. “You’re not the only one who thinks a name change would be a good idea.”

“Congratulations!” Maisie cries, leaping into Bernice’s arms. Bernice looks surprised but hugs her back.

“I thought we said no guy talk,” I muttered, crossing the room and taking the bottles of wine from Bernice. I check the labels to make sure I get the one with alcohol, before pouring myself a large glass.

I can feel Rosa’s eyes on me, but I ignore her. Everyone is getting their happy ending except me. Even Bernice.

“Let me pour you some wine,”

“Hmm,” Linnea says, “I’m excited to try it.”

“I can’t tell you how much I miss wine,” Veronica whines, her hand on her stomach, which has just started to show. “Percy keeps telling me grape juice is exactly the same.”

“Like I said,” I laugh, taking another sip of my wine, “clown.”

“Olivia,” Bernice says, “it is so good to see you.”

“You, too,” I say, accepting her side hug.

Bernice pours out glasses of wine and passes them to each person, alcoholic content respective to pregnancy status. She’s pouring another glass when the door opens, and Triste walks in, reaching up and propping her sunglasses on her head.

“Triste,” Linnea breathes, “you came.”

“I thought you could use another hand,” Triste says, smiling. “Is there wine for me?”

I pour myself another glass, then pour her one as well.

“Now,” Bernice says, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. “I have not had a holiday with my daughter in years. I am so excited to get started.”

“Great!” Linnea says, taking a deep breath and stepping back, “Will you do this while I sit down?”

Bernice laughs and takes over the cookie dough, rolling seamlessly while Linnea doles out jobs for each of us. I accept my potatoes and peeler readily, glad to have something else to focus on, at least for a while.