The fact that his mother could use the phrase “take the beet” damn near killed him. “Ma, none of us wants to take the beet. It’s not because we’re aliens. It’s because they’re gross and they stain everything. I spent a god-awful amount of money on Shelley’s dress. Someone named Monique Lhuillier really believes in her own talent, and one of our future daughters should really be able to wear it again because it might just be her only legacy after what that dress cost me. She can’t wear it if it’s got beet juice all over it.”

Not that he would ever have a child. A man had to have sex in order to procreate, and at this point he wasn’t even living with his wife.

They might not have a legal agreement, but she’d really been his wife since the day she’d agreed to marry him. But she’d insisted on this freaking old-school, no-sex-for-a-week-before-marriage shit.

And Wolf had just lain right down like a big old pussy. He hadn’t even argued with her about it.

Now they were back in their childhood cabin, in their old rooms. It was supposed to be a reminder of how far he’d come. He just kind of wanted to be where he was. He’d worked damn hard for his really nice condo in Dallas. Well, he’d manipulated Julian enough to get a wretchedly large salary that afforded him the best of everything.

And yet he had to admit there was a piercing sweetness to being back here. Everywhere he looked there was a reminder of just how much his crazy-as-fuck mother had loved him, how much this place had molded him into the man he was. Even hanging with Wolf had been fun. They’d been fishing and gone to the Movie Motel for a showing of Die Hard and just sat and drank and talked. Mostly about how hard up they were, but they were really communicating.

He thought about the e-mail he’d received. It had come out of nowhere and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He hadn’t told Wolf a thing about it. He sure as hell hadn’t told his ma. Was he going to say a word or pretend like it didn’t exist? He wasn’t sure. The man who had sent him the e-mail had pretended he didn’t exist for the last thirty-something years. Payback, in this case, was as easy as hitting the delete key.

“Ma? Are you there or have you vacated the premises?” He had to ask the question because on more than one occasion, his mother had simply dropped the phone and walked off when he told her something she didn’t want to hear. Of course, she tended to claim that those were the times she’d been abducted by aliens.

“It’s already started.” His mother’s voice was a hushed whisper. “You’ve turned your back on your upbringing. You used to love beets.”

His stomach actually turned. His mother was very good at rewriting history. He’d eaten beets half the time because they were the only things they could afford. He wasn’t going there with her though. He loved his mother enough that he could rewrite history, too. “Nope, I hated them all my life. The only reason I ate them was the fact that I didn’t get ice cream if I didn’t clean my plate. Ma, is there something else at work here? Some deeper anxiety?”

“Don’t you psychoanalyze me, Leonardo Michelangelo Meyer. I can still put you over my knee, you know. And there is no deeper anxiety than alien abduction. You tell that alien queen that I will not attend the wedding without her beeting.” There was a quick click and Leo sighed.

His mother used beet as a verb. Yep, his condo in Dallas seemed very peaceful.

A loud ruckus caught his attention. The doors to the Trading Post flung open and two young men came running out.

“That is one crazy son of a bitch. He damn near took out my eye with that fishing pole.”

“What the fuck is up with this place? I came here for Sasquatch, not Satan.”

Both young men practically ran down the road.

Max Harper was at it again.

Yes. This was a subject he could study for days. Leo was actually excited again. Ever since Logan had left, he hadn’t had a single deeply fucked-up dude to fix. Leo kind of lived to fix people, but he’d started to believe that Max was that rarest of fucked-up dudes. The naturally fucked up. The “no real reason for it, just kind of crazy” idiot.

It was rather like finding the Sasquatch the young man had talked about.

Yeah, he was totally interested in Max Harper.

He stopped outside the Trading Post, not willing to get too close to the subject. He had to maintain his distance while in the observation period.

And his cell phone trilled again. He glanced down at the number. Wolf.

“Hey.”

“You have to do something about Ma.”

Leo sighed. “Shelley isn’t going to take the beet, man.”

“Ma’s crying. And she’s threatening to call Mel. You know what’s going to happen if she calls Mel.”

Mel. The craziest man in Bliss, and that was saying something, because Caleb Burke was the town doc. “They go into his bunker and don’t come out until after the wedding, and then the whole reason we’re having the stupid thing is gone.”

Frustration welled.

“Or we could just convince our sweet sub to drink a little freaking beet juice,” Wolf replied.

Yes, that would be the reasonable reaction. “She said no.”

“She said no before we made a party out of it and you presented her with some really hot shoes in exchange for her drinking a cup and a half of beet juice. I have a friend and she’s willing to set up the whole thing. She’s going to the reception this afternoon and I’m ordering something called Prada wedges. Laura says the mint-green color is all the buzz this season. God, I feel dumb even saying that sentence, but I saw them online and they’re actually pretty hot. God knows they’re expensive as fuck, so they should work.”

Was his brother high? “Didn’t you used to date Laura?”

There was a brief pause. “Once or twice. She’s married now.”

“Dude, you’re asking advice from an ex? About our wife? What the hell do you think is going to happen when she finds out? And she will find out. She won’t drink the beet juice. She’d throw it in your face.”

“She’s not an ex. I didn’t sleep with her.”

That was hard to believe. “You slept with everyone.”

“Not Laura,” Wolf insisted. “So she doesn’t count. I can still be friends with her.”

He was right. It wasn’t like he’d been in love with Laura. He’d only ever loved Shelley. “Fine, so you want to use a single pair of wretchedly expensive shoes to get our wife to agree to a completely bogus ceremony that will potentially placate our mother and lead our family to a certain level of harmony?”

Wolf hesitated for a second. “Uhm, yeah.”

There were definitely times when having a partner made his relationship with Shelley so much easier. “You are so fucking smart, brother. Buy the goddamn shoes. And throw in some jewelry on top of it. We want her really happy to drink that nasty beet juice. We can do it at Trio tonight.”

“Why can’t we do it at home?”

“Because Ma has made a ritual out of it. She’s calling it a beeting.”

Wolf groaned. “We’ll be lucky if Shell shows up tomorrow.”

Leo felt a smile cross his face. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Shelley McNamara would be walking down the aisle tomorrow afternoon. She would be holding on to her brother’s arm and smiling that amazing smile, and she would belong to them because she already did. “This is a story we’ll tell our kids, brother.”

He never thought he would have them, but lately, he’d been dreaming about black-haired boys and girls. He’d found out he actually had a future.

There was a little pause on the line. “Yeah. We’ll tell them about how screwy their parents’ wedding was. I’ll order the presents. Logan says his partner, Seth, can have someone fly them out from Bergdorf.”

Seth was a billionaire, so Leo didn’t doubt it. “You do what you need to do and get your ass out to Mountain and Valley. Tell me you didn’t forget about our meeting with Mel?”

Wolf groaned. “How could I forget? The invitation was carved into a beet so I will never forget it. I won’t leave you alone with Mel. I’ll make it to whatever the hell this is. Do you know what the hell this is?”

Leo turned, looking down Main Street. He hadn’t been to Bliss in years, but it looked like nothing had changed. “He’s calling it a Meeting of Men. Jen Talbot is hosting a reception for the women out at the Talbot estate. This is Mel’s version. I’m sure it will be painfully embarrassing. That’s all I know.”

“Then I’ll see you at three. You don’t think this is just a way to surprise us with some crazy-ass fun bachelor party?”

Given by Mel, the alien hunter? “Not a chance in living hell, brother. Be ready for some surreal humiliation, but nothing more.”

His brother sighed over the line. “See you there.”

The line went dead and Leo turned, ready to get back to the task at hand. He was nearly startled out of his fucking head. It had been a while since he’d been snuck up on, but he’d been distracted.

Max Harper stared at him, a bag in his hand. “You following me?”

He could lie and make up some grand fiction, but he was too fucking old to make shit up. The truth was so much easier. “I’m a psychologist. I’ve been following you around and you’re completely fucking nuts. I’m thinking of writing a book about you.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Am I the hero of this book?”

“Sure, why not?” His general psychosis would likely aid everyone in the psychological world.

A broad smile caught on Max’s face. “Well, hell, then let me buy you a drink. Let’s go to Trio. I was headed there anyway!”

The big cowboy turned and started walking down the street. Leo followed because if there was one thing he wasn’t going to turn down at this point, it was a stiff drink.