Mom periodically described how she seasoned the asparagus, or the technique she used to grill the French bread, just so everyone would compliment her cooking all over again.

Totally eating up all the attention.

“You going back to work?” I asked, sipping my tea.

“I’m not sure what to do,” she said with a click of her tongue. “The house is paid off and I’ve been thinking about selling. Too many memories.”

“You’re living with us,” Wheeler said. “No arguments. If I can eat like this for the rest of my life, then I’m going to die a happy man.”

Mom beamed and tried to refocus on my question. “I’m too young for social security, but I do have a little money tucked away to live on. Not enough to keep up with the bills, so I guess I have no choice but to work.”

Jericho quickly wiped a napkin across his mouth and pushed away from the cabinet where he’d been eating. “I have to head out. I’ve got a gig tonight and I’m already running late for sound check.”

His brown hair had been gelled and styled in that sexy “I don’t give a shit” way, with strands of at least two shades of brown. His jeans were loose and black with a few chains going around the back, and his sleeveless shirt had the name of some band I’d never heard of before. Not to mention he wore a smudge of black liner that made his green eyes pop.

Jericho leaned around to kiss my mom appreciatively on the cheek before heading out the door. “Thanks, Miss Knight.” He strutted out the door and Mom looked wistfully at her plate.

Miss Knight. I knew what she was thinking. She had been called Mrs. Knight for years, and even after my dad left, she never corrected people. That’s just what women her age were assumed to be. It had taken three years before she stopped wearing her wedding ring.

Reno stood up and filled his empty plate with seconds. “The new house needs a paint job,” he informed Austin. “We can hire someone to do the exterior, but you need to figure out if you also want them to paint the inside. We patched up some of the holes in the wall. I don’t know what the fuck happened in there, but it looked like a barroom brawl.”

“I can help,” Mom volunteered. “Ivy can come along and we girls will see what needs to be done. I’ve laid my own flooring, installed crown molding, and even wallpapered three rooms.”

“True story,” I said, chewing a piece of bread. “Don’t even get her started on landscaping. You have no idea who you’re messing with; my mom can wallpaper Alcatraz and you’d think it was a bed and breakfast.”

She slapped my hand jokingly and I smirked, sipping on my glass of sweet tea.

“I’d appreciate that, Lynn,” Austin said.

Awkward.

Austin had always called her Mom. Always. It was never Mrs. Knight or even by her first name. That’s just how he saw her. Maybe he felt like he had disappointed her and his privileges were revoked.

Mom tapped her fork on her plate, pushing around the cucumbers. I don’t think she knew how to go about addressing the topic, but I could tell it was on her mind.

“Damn, this is fucking good,” Wheeler exclaimed from the counter he sat on. “If you don’t go back to work, then I’ll hire you as our personal chef,” he offered, wiping the back of his wrist across his mouth. Good thing he kept his circle beard short; the idea of men getting food in their facial hair repulsed me.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” she replied.

“Dead serious,” he said, lifting his light brown eyes to hers.

“You need a job to be able to pay her,” Austin suggested, chewing off a bite of bread.

Wheeler’s posture stiffened and his lips thinned. “How about we take this conversation offline? ’Preciate ya,” he said in low words.

I lightly stepped on Austin’s foot beneath the table and got the weirdest vibe from him when he looked at me. The alpha didn’t know how to react with a woman silently telling him to shut up.

“What kind of experience do you have in finance, Wheeler?” I asked.

His brows popped up and he leaned forward on his elbows, pushing something around on his plate. Wheeler’s mouth curved up at the corners and my, didn’t he look like a slick fella? “I have a CPA license. I’ve also done taxes, accounting, and worked as a financial advisor. Lots of rich assholes out there who don’t know how to manage their money. But I’ve dabbled in other things.”

I looked at Austin and we had a mental conversation.

“I may need your advice on something if you have the time. We can talk about it later.”

He licked the prongs of his fork, watching me carefully. “Maybe.”

“No maybes,” Austin said in a thick voice. “If Lexi needs your help, then you’re going to give it to her.”

“I’ll give it to her,” Ben said suggestively, and he wasn’t talking about accounting.

“Keep it up,” Wheeler warned Ben. “See what happens.”

Austin’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose from the table and delivered a palpable glare at Ben. There was no attempt to charge after him, and somehow it made him more menacing. Ben submissively walked across the kitchen and ate in the corner alone. Austin sat back down and my mom was the only one who didn’t notice what had just transpired between the men.

Everyone else did. Ivy stared at her plate, shoulders hunched, spreading her mashed potatoes around with a fork.

Mom sprinkled a dash of pepper on her steak. “I’ll go with you in the morning and see what you boys are dealing with. As a homeowner, I know a thing or two you wouldn’t think to check. I just hope you had an inspector come out and look at the foundation. Lexi, do you mind watching Maizy for the day? I won’t be able to keep an eye on her and I don’t think that’s the kind of place she should be running around in. There might be nails or loose wires.”

“Sure. No problem.” Mom didn’t bother asking me to go because she knew my stance on manual labor. Especially after the paint-thinner fiasco.

“Good. We’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up several gallons of white paint. Something always needs a fresh coat of paint and we might as well get started right away.”

“Mom, do you really want to be painting in this heat?” I argued.

Yeah, she did. That woman was born to redecorate. She just never had much room to do it in her small house. But the idea of a large home that was big enough to have once been a hotel? I knew she was about to die a little bit and go to heaven. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had them laying down wood flooring by sunset.

I leaned into Austin and spoke privately. “Did you clean up everything?”

The first thing my mom would see when she walked into the house was a mattress with tangled sheets, and I was sure I had left some of my things there. I didn’t want to give her the wrong idea of what kind of daughter she had raised.

Austin grinned, telling me visually that hell no, he hadn’t moved a damn thing.

Ivy finally piped in. “I can help furnish the rooms. I’m good with finding cheap or free furniture and fixing it up; just give me some money and I’ll work with a budget. People wait for trash day and put it on their curb, so if one of you can come along with me on those days, we can scope out some of the neighborhoods and load them onto a truck. Garage sales will get you bargains if you go late.”

“Why late?” I asked. “Early bird gets the worm.”

She pushed her braid off her shoulder and a strand of hair slipped in front of her nose. “Early bird also pays a fortune. The late bird gets the deal on leftovers, because the owners just want to get rid of it for any price at that point. People can’t see the potential in some pieces that look ugly or broken. I can. I see beneath all the glossy paint at the raw beauty below the surface.”

Hand to God, every man in the room was watching her like she was a prophet. Ivy had such a beautiful voice and the manner in which she spoke drew you to her words, as if everything had a deeper meaning. She could be talking about scrubbing a toilet and make it sound like she was teaching you a lesson about humility.

I smiled and took a bite of cucumber. Ivy was going to fit in well; she was exactly what this pack needed. They had somehow accepted her as a sister, even though she was insanely beautiful in an earthy way, with lush lips and delicate features. I had so much to learn about Shifters.

“You going to be okay by yourself?” Austin asked hesitantly.

“Sure. I’ll have to plan something fun with Maizy,” I said in an animated voice, grabbing her attention. I winked at her and she giggled while nibbling on a tomato wedge. “Maybe we’ll do Pretty Pigtail Day and make some homemade pizza. Would you like that, Maze?”

She gave it the weighty consideration only a six-year-old can. “Umm, okay. Can we play games like at the pizza place?”

I glanced at Austin, not wanting to let her play on Denver’s game system. “You got any kid games around here?”

He frowned a little and thought about it. “Cards?”

“Then I’m just going to have to kick it old school and show her how to play hopscotch.”

“Hide and seek!” she replied.

“I don’t think we have the stuff to make a pizza,” Austin murmured in a deep voice.

“Trust me, you do. I know how to make homemade dough. Heck, I can make a pizza using toast if I really need to.”

“She can,” Mom agreed. “And it’s appalling.”

“You have tomato sauce in the cabinet and there’s provolone cheese slices in the fridge, so it’s all good. Call me if you want lunch later on. Maybe you can lend me the keys to one of your cars and I can swing by.”

“What’s wrong with yours?”