Brandy rubbed the final spices on the steaks, checked on the side dishes, and peeked in the oven at the dark chocolate walnut brownies with the coconut-chocolate chip-toffee topping. The brownies smelled like heaven, and she wouldn’t mind skipping right to the dessert round tonight even though she loved steak on the grill.

But brownies weren’t the only dessert she was hungry for. A tall, black-haired, bearded Irish dude would fill her up just as nicely. Probably better than brownies if those full lips and big hands had anything to say about the matter. An excited jolt zipped through her as she remembered Reardon’s strong arm around her waist, hoisting her off her feet, carrying her to safety.

When she thought about what could have happened today, she… she… well, she couldn’t let herself think about it. Knowing she could have lost Dylan, the one piece of her sister she treasured most, made her want to sob hysterically.

Thinking of Reardon saving them both dammed the tears. He’d been there. He’d acted fast. He’d made sure they lived to see another day. She owed him so much more than dinner.

And she was prepared to give him more. Whatever he wanted. Tonight, hopefully.

This was a new line of thought for Brandy, but it made this half-nervous, half-delighted energy course through her body like flowing electricity. She wasn’t one to use her body to pay her debts, but she wanted to do so with Reardon. She’d only been in his presence less than fifteen minutes, but she felt… connected to him, as if she knew him already. He was handsome as hell and probably used to women falling immediately under his spell. Brandy figured his eyes alone had enough power to rein in the most reluctant women. Combine those eyes with that body and his life-saving skills and he started looking very much like The Perfect Man.

If there was such a thing.

Brandy hadn’t believed there was, but Reardon—whose last name she didn’t even know—appeared extremely close to perfect.

“Be careful,” she warned herself as she pulled the brownies out of the oven and put them on the stovetop to cool. No need to be stupid about this whole thing. She’d serve him dinner, and if he was open to more, she’d give it to him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It was just sex.

“Hey, B.”

She whirled around at the sound of Parker’s voice, ready to greet her friend, but her gaze immediately landed on Reardon standing so beautifully tall behind him instead. He filled her small kitchen with his broad shoulders and long legs, and Brandy was certain someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. She actually felt dizzy. He looked amazing in another pair of blue jeans and a black, Henley-style T-shirt that fit snuggly around his biceps.

“Good evening, lass.” The deep timbre of his voice caressed her from the inside and she nearly melted at his feet.

“Reardon.” She liked saying his name. “Nice to see you again.”

“Aye, likewise.” He held out a bottle of wine so she had to step closer to take it.

As her hand closed around the neck, Reardon put his free hand over hers. It was solid and rough and warm. God, she hoped he wanted to touch her later tonight. She might weep if he didn’t.

“You’re okay, aye?” He didn’t release his hold on her. Not that she wanted him to. In fact, she had an indescribable urge to snuggle into his arms and stay there. For like a long time.

Or forever. Either way.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks to you.” She looked at his hand that was still bandaged around the knuckles. “And are you okay?”

“Aye, fine.” He let her hand go and gave her a shrug as if it were no big deal he’d leaped into harm’s way to save her and Dylan.

It was a big deal. A very big deal.

She was about to say so, but Chella pushed her way into the kitchen, her high-heeled sandals making loud clacks against the wood floor. Brandy had asked her not to wear those inside as they dinged her wide-planked barnwood floors, but Chella usually did what Chella wanted.

She stood next to Parker now with a pout on her lipsticked lips. “Parker, that mangy brown wolf pushed his nose right between my legs.”

Brandy bit her lip to keep from laughing over Lug’s antics, but Reardon let out a howl of a laugh, making it impossible for Brandy to contain her own chuckling.

Even Parker laughed. “Lug likes you, baby. I’ve told you this before.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, dropping a kiss on her cheek that appeared to satisfy her. She managed to shoot a glare toward Brandy and Reardon though.

“Well, I don’t appreciate being sniffed like some kind of animal.”

“Animals sniff to get to know you,” Reardon said. “That wolf is curious.”

“He’s right,” Brandy said. “Besides, Lug is totally harmless.”

“Yeah, until he rips my face off.”

“Aw, Chella, Lug wouldn’t rip your face off. He knows true beauty when he sees it.” Parker pressed another kiss to Chella’s cheek and whispered something into her ear that Brandy couldn’t hear.

Thank God. Two minutes into the evening and she’d had enough of their lovey-dovey shit. Time to turn her attention to something else. Something tall and delicious.

“So, Reardon, do you work with animals? You seem to know about them,” she asked as she put the wine bottle down on the dining room table.

Reardon followed her and said, “No. It’s common sense that an animal sniffs to find out about what’s around them.”

“True.” She turned to face him. “So what do you do then?” Was it wrong of her to try to get to know him? She wished she could sniff and know him like the wolves could. Drawing in a breath, she did pick up on Reardon’s scent. Something woodsy and clean and fern-like. Pleasant. Reminded her of the pond outside the sanctuary’s boundaries. She’d gone swimming in that sun-warmed pond before and had enjoyed the smell of the aquatic plants bordering it. Reardon smelled like that. An earthy, comforting scent.

He scratched at his beard and an image of Alator sitting on his haunches using his hind leg to scratch his chin popped in her head. She shook the vision from her mind and focused on Reardon’s mouth that was moving.

“…a soldier.”

“You’re a soldier?” That explained the badass aura and his ability to risk his life to save hers and Dylan’s.

“I was.” He cleared his throat, and Brandy got the impression he didn’t want to talk about being a soldier. Maybe he had some PTSD or something. That made her heart hurt for him.

“And now you’re here.”

He nodded.

“Well, okay. Good enough for me.”

An expression of relief washed over his features and a smile turned up the corners of his lovely mouth. “It smells wonderful in here. What’s for dinner?”

“Steak. Parker likes to grill. It makes him feel manly.”

“I heard that.” Parker appeared in the dining room and leaned against the threshold, Chella draped along his side like a blanket.

“Is it a false statement?” Brandy put her hands on her hips in challenge.

Parker let his head hang on his shoulders. “No. Point me to the meat.” He grunted and scratched himself in imitation of a caveman.

Brandy led him to the kitchen and handed him the tray of seasoned steaks. “Have at it, Chef Daniels.”

“Oh, these look great. C’mon, Chella. I need an assistant.”

Chella giggled and click-clacked her way after him out onto the back deck where the grill was set up.

When Brandy turned around, Reardon raised his eyebrows at her.

“What?”

“You don’t like her.” He gestured to the door.

“She’s fine.” Brandy waved a hand. “I think Parker could do better, but he’s a big boy and can make his own decisions.”

“Have you and Parker…”

“We have, but it wasn’t a love connection. Not like that anyway. He’s like a brother to me.” Was that a jealous little flare in Reardon’s green-gold eyes? Interesting.

“Aye, he called you a sister when I met him out at the gates.”

“So our stories check out then?” she teased.

“They do.” He grinned then looked around the kitchen, pulling free the bag he had pinned under his left arm. “Where’s your boy?”

“He’s feeding the wolves with my mother. She lives in the cabin next door. They’ll both be along shortly.”

“Great. This is for him.” He set the bag on the kitchen counter.

Brandy peeked inside. “The tennis ball launcher. You did see us in the pet store.”

“Aye, but I promise I’m not stalking you.” He held up his hands in innocence. “Today’s events were completely unplanned.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here now.”

“You’re letting me thank you for keeping us from becoming road pizza.”

“Road pizza?”

“Yeah, road pizza. An ooey-gooey version of ourselves. I didn’t want to be ooey-gooey, and I certainly didn’t want Dylan to be either. That kid means everything to me. Everything.”

“Of course. You’re his mother.”

“Actually, I’m his aunt. My sister died giving birth to him so I’m raising him. He calls me Mom because I’m the only one he’s ever known.” Wow, loser, why don’t you tell him your life story? Jesus.

“Then he’s doubly precious to you.” The compassion in his eyes nearly made Brandy cry. “I’m honored to have saved you both today and delighted to share a meal.”

Brandy’s throat was too tight to reply, but she didn’t have to because Dylan and Meredith came in right at that moment.

“Hey, Reardon,” Dylan said. “Guess what? Alator loved that tire toy. I told you he would. We played with it all afternoon.”

“You must have an excellent sense of what wolves find entertaining.” Reardon reached for the bag on the counter and handed it to Dylan. “You’ll have to experiment with this tomorrow.”

Dylan opened the bag and yanked out the tennis ball launcher, a smile the size of the sky on his face. “Yeah! Mom, can I take Reardon to meet Alator now and try this out?” He wiggled the launcher.

“Dinner first. Parker will be done with the steaks soon.” She ruffled Dylan’s hair when he pouted a little. “And you are planning to thank Reardon, correct?”

“Thank you, Reardon. Alator will be so excited to play with this. He loves running. I love running too.”

“Me too,” Reardon said.

Meredith shuffled up to Reardon and Brandy had to laugh at how small her mother looked next to the big man. “I’d like to thank you too,” she said. “I’m Meredith Wendon, and these two schmucks are my whole world. I would not have liked seeing them smooshed between two cars. That would have ruined my day.”

She stepped closer and hugged Reardon. Just like that. Because she was a grandmother, she could get away with such forwardness, while Brandy worked hard to keep from tossing herself at Reardon.

“I happened to be there,” Reardon said over Meredith’s head.

Meredith backed out of the hug, taking a moment to squeeze him around the bicep and raise an approving eyebrow at Brandy. “And a good thing you were. Now let’s eat.”

She nudged Dylan to the dining room table as Parker and Chella came in with the steaks. Brandy brought the side dishes over and everyone took their usual seats.

Everyone except Reardon who appeared to be waiting for her to sit first. Quite the gentleman. Almost as if he wasn’t from this time. She thought of Marshall who had nearly knocked her over to get the seat he wanted at the table in the restaurant.

“This is your seat, Reardon.” Dylan pointed to the one at the head of the table near both Brandy and Dylan.

“Aye. Thank you.” He stepped toward it, resting his hands on the back, but still not sitting until Brandy lowered into her seat. Then he sat, giving her a smile that made her hungry for dessert again.

Post-dessert really.

****

So this is what a home looks like? Reardon glanced around the tidy dining room, the food spread out on the table, the folks gathered around to share the meal. He’d never been a part of anything like this. Most of his meals as a child had been more of the stolen variety. A loaf of bread here, a piece of fruit there, always a found meal instead of a planned one. His mother wasn’t the cooking type either, so he and Jaemus had usually fended for themselves. Never had the three of them sat together at the same time and eaten the same food.

Not once.

Sitting here now with these people made conflicting emotions rise up inside him. On the one hand, he was thrilled to be amongst them, accepted into their group and enjoying their company—especially Brandy’s and Dylan’s. On the other hand, he couldn’t help feeling he didn’t quite belong there.

Of course he didn’t belong there. This wasn’t his home. This wasn’t his time. He had no right to insert himself into this family, but he couldn’t shake the sense that perhaps it was his destiny to be there. Saving Brandy and Dylan earlier today was clear evidence that his presence in Canville, Vermont meant something. At least to them anyway. Of course, they wouldn’t have been in any danger if Flidae wasn’t pissed at him.

But he also couldn’t ignore the pull he had toward the beautiful, red-haired fairy lass and her energetic boy. He’d fallen for them in wolf form and his human form was beginning to feel the same way.

“Steak cooked how you like it, Reardon?” Parker asked.

“Aye.” Reardon held up his fork with a piece of pinkish steak speared onto it. “A little wriggling still. Exactly how I prefer it.”

Brandy scrunched up her nose. The movement put the most adorable expression on her perfect face. “Ugh. Pink stinks. I like mine cooked all the way.”

“You like yours until it’s tough enough to use as a spare tire.” Parker shook his head. “I always feel as if I’m completely ruining a perfectly good steak when I cook yours.”

Brandy stuck her tongue out at Parker and he waved his knife at her, slicing his index finger across his neck in a threatening gesture. She laughed so Reardon tamped down the urge to take Parker outside and give him a lesson on how a man treated a lady. Brandy and Parker teased each other. That was their relationship, but it took a little time for Reardon to understand that. He’d never had a female friend. He wasn’t sure how a man could simply be friends with a lass like Brandy.

Doesn’t Parker have eyes? From where Reardon sat, Brandy was a million times more attractive than Chella and had the personality to go with those incredible physical features. So far, what he’d seen of Chella put her in the lacking category.

“What are you going to do about a car now?” Chella asked Brandy.

“I’ll borrow Mom’s until I can work out the details with the insurance company. Then I guess I’ll be shopping for some new wheels.” Brandy didn’t look too happy about having to do that.

Reardon had no idea what kind of experience purchasing one of those vehicles was, but if it was anything like securing a ship, he understood why she wasn’t happy.

“Can we get a venom red Dodge Viper?” Dylan asked, his mouth full of steak.

“Because that’s a practical car for Vermont.” Meredith reached over and rubbed Dylan’s head. “Next, he’ll be wanting a motorcycle.”

Dylan’s eyes brightened. “Yeah!”

“No,” Brandy, Meredith, and Parker said in unison.

Dylan leaned toward Reardon. “They always say that.”

“They care about you. That’s a good thing, no?” Reardon wouldn’t mind having some people care about him that way. He had his men—well, he used to have his men. Before he betrayed them all in the name of fame, glory, and riches. He gritted his teeth over the memory of his selfishness.

“It’s good.” Dylan shrugged. “I don’t want a motorcycle anyway. I want my own snowmobile.”

“And someday you will get one.” Brandy handed him a napkin and pointed to his chin where some rogue barbecue sauce rested.

“Someday after I’ve given you a million snowmobiling lessons,” Parker said, winking at the boy.

Reardon knew Parker had been a part of this group for a great deal of time, but he couldn’t help feeling jealous of that fact. He wished he could manipulate time—like Flidae had—and get to the day where Brandy knew all about him and accepted and cared for him.

All of him.

“Are you here in Vermont to stay?” Chella asked.

“I hope so,” Reardon said. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Where are you from?” She took a sip of her wine, licking her lips in a way that told Reardon he’d bought a suitable kind. The choices had been many. Not at all like in his time and place.

“Ireland.” Short answers would get him through this night. He had to believe that. It was the only plan he had.

That and somehow getting his hands on Brandy later tonight.

“Who leaves Ireland to come here?” Chella frowned, her face becoming even less pleasing.

“Apparently, he does.” Meredith arrowed a thumb toward Reardon. “Sometimes a man needs a tranquility only the woods of good old Vermont can provide, right?”

“Aye. There is a certain peace here.” And he’d never been one to surround himself with peace. Just the opposite in fact.

“Except when you’re running into the street to save us,” Dylan said.

“Well, I didn’t want too much peace.” Reardon glanced at Brandy. “Too much peace would be boring.”

Brandy’s cheeks colored nicely, and Reardon got the impression her mind was following his down a possible path for them both that would definitely not be boring.

“I hate being bored,” Dylan said.

“So do I,” Chella added, sounding like a person Dylan’s age rather than Parker’s.

“Fortunately, you have me, my dear,” Parker said, nuzzling Chella’s cheek with his nose. “I am anti-boredom.”

“Humble too.” Brandy winked at him, and again, Reardon wanted that attention directed toward him.

“You never would have made it through college without my anti-boredom strategies,” Parker said. “I should write a book.”

“Yeah, a coloring book,” Brandy shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

“Coloring books are popular right now,” Chella said. “I bought three of them online yesterday.”

Brandy regarded Chella then slid her gaze to Parker. Her eyebrow slowly rose above her right eye. Reardon got the impression she was communicating with Parker without words.

What message is she sending? He would have loved to know because he definitely sensed some tension along with the message.

Parker narrowed his eyes at Brandy then turned his attention back to his plate. “So Dylan, I was up at Mrs. Rangeley’s farm yesterday and she has five more dwarf goats that need naming. She wanted to know if you have any suggestions.”

“Do you have any pictures of them? I need to see them to name them.”

Parker nodded. “They are on my phone. I’ll show you later and we can text her some options.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the meal passed with what Reardon assumed was normal family conversation. Topics like the high summer temperatures expected next week, when Dylan was going to camp, new books Meredith ordered for the library, and how Parker planned to do the wolves’ annual physicals were discussed. Reardon listened mostly, not loving that last topic much, considering he was technically one of Silver Moon’s wolves. He’d have to think of a way to get out of that experience if he could. It was one thing to have Parker tend to him when his leg had been broken. It was another to have the thorough veterinarian poking around his body.

Everyone pitched in to clean up then Brandy served something delicious called brownies. The group had moved to the patio behind Brandy’s cabin and Parker lit a fire in a small stone pit. Cricket song mixed with the hiss, crack, and pop of the flames. Shadows danced all around everyone. Moonlight filtered through the trees.

Reardon couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening. He didn’t want it to end, but soon Parker and Chella were saying their goodbyes. Meredith was ushering Dylan inside to pack up some of his things to stay with her for the night.

Brandy hadn’t moved from her position across from Reardon, flames still flickering in the fire pit between them. Did she want him to go? Did she want him to stay? He had no idea what current etiquette called for in this situation. Was it rude of him to linger?

Did he care if he were rude? He definitely didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Do you like whiskey, Reardon?” Brandy leaned forward, the firelight making her hair glow. She looked even more like a fairy lass now.

“Aye.” In fact, he’d been tempted to bring that instead of wine, but the storeowner convinced him wine was a better selection for a dinner event.

Brandy got to her feet and walked around the fire pit, stopping to stand in front of him.

He made a move to get to his feet, but she gently touched his shoulder and nudged him to stay in his seat.

“You don’t have to rush off anywhere, do you?” she asked.

“Not unless you wish me to.”

A slow smile turned up her lips. “I don’t wish you to. I’ll be right back.”

He looked over his shoulder as she slithered through the darkness and disappeared into the house. Anticipation ran wild throughout his body. He wanted to howl at the moon, but contained the urge. Instead, he got up, walked to the small wood pile beside the patio, and added a few logs to the fire. In a couple of moments, the flames reached high again, pouring an orange glow over everything. He poked the fire, adjusting the logs and it climbed a little higher.

Reardon was reminded of all the fires he’d built with his men as they camped under the stars dotting the skies over Ireland—and how Erik Rheagan stomped them out with his bare feet when they were done. The lad had feet of iron, and remembering the man made an ache pulse in Reardon’s chest. How were all his men faring? Where were they? Flidae had hinted that some of them hadn’t landed in a comfortable situation as he had.

He looked up at the night sky and focused on dark treetops. He’d never minded being outside. Being part wolf gave him a connection to the outdoors—a connection he’d never fully enjoyed. Silver Moon Sanctuary was changing that for him.

While in wolf form, he’d done nothing but spend time outside. The sanctuary had a small area with wooden shelters for the wolves, but he hadn’t seen many of the wolves use them. Maybe when the weather got worse they would, but this summer had been gorgeous so far, and sleeping out in the open had been the norm.

For the other wolves anyway.

Reardon spent most of his nights curled up on the floor of Brandy’s room. He’d known that was a special privilege, especially because he was the newest wolf in the sanctuary, but he’d earned his place there by defending her against Hank Swift. While he hated that the man had scared her—touched her—he didn’t mind the way she sought safety from his wolf.

Could she seek things from his human too? Gods, he hoped so. He was definitely willing to give her whatever she might need or want.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned away from the fire to find Brandy standing there with a glass held out to him. Ice clinked as he took the glass from her.

“What should we drink to?” she asked, her own glass held aloft.

“Whatever the lass wishes.” He took a step closer.

Her tongue came out to wet her lips, and Reardon had to keep himself from tasting her instead of the whiskey.

“To heroes who save the day.” She angled her glass at him.

“I’m hardly a hero.” If she only knew what he’d done to his men. How Flidae had banished him. How he’d lived the life of a savage.

She shook her head. “You said we could drink to ‘whatever the lass wishes.’ I wish to drink to you, Reardon.”

He tapped his glass to hers then they each tossed the whiskey back in one gulp. It burned the back of his throat exactly as it was supposed to then heated his chest in a warm, spreading wave.

Brandy held her hand out for his glass. She set both of them down on a small, iron table.

“Listen.” Her voice was soft, tentative, a little raspy from the whiskey. “I don’t know much about you, Reardon, but what I do know, I like. A lot.”

But you do know me. He wanted to tell her that so badly.

Reardon put his hand to his chest. “You honor me, fairy lass. I’ve had a very enjoyable evening.”

She smiled, a glint of confidence shining in her eyes now. “Parker’s steaks are pretty amazing, aren’t they?”

“I wasn’t referring to the steaks.” He took another step closer. Close enough that he could reach out and touch her. If he wanted to.

And he wanted to.

“The wine you brought had a fine taste.” Brandy took his hand—the one without the unnecessary bandage—and walked backward so she still faced him. She tugged him toward the house.

“I wasn’t referring to the wine either.” Reardon took her other hand and allowed her to pull him into the kitchen.

“Hmm. The brownies? Dylan’s hero worship of you? Meredith’s jokes? Chella’s… sandals?” Her smile was full on now, amusement reflecting in her wide, blue eyes.

“No, no, no, and definitely no.” Reardon backed Brandy up against the wall between the kitchen and dining room.

She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, a wicked little gleam in her eyes heating him all over. “Then what has made your evening so enjoyable?”

Reardon put his hands on her waist. Slowly, he leaned in close enough to put his lips to her ear. “You, lass. I’ve enjoyed you.”

“You haven’t yet.”

She rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Sparks exploded in his body and a low growl of possession rumbled in his throat.

Whether she knew it or not, Brandy Wendon had become his with that kiss.