She went down the stairs. This was an old bungalow, likely built in the 1920s or 30s, laid out in a square with the staircase in the middle. It was pretty big, as far as bungalows went, to have four bedrooms and bath upstairs, a large kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs.
Elizabeth walked into the kitchen to find Rebecca setting seven places at the table and Ronan hunched over the stove in jeans and black T-shirt, cooking what had to be five packages of bacon and four cartons of eggs. An entire loaf of bread, toasted, was piled on a platter, and four more slices popped out of the toaster as she walked in.
Ronan glanced up at her and gave her a wide smile, full of energy. "I do a mean biscuits-and-gravy, but I didn't have time this morning. Scrambled okay with you?"
"Fine."
Rebecca was giving Elizabeth a critical look. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
"Not really."
"Can't blame you."
Rebecca was tall and leggy, but large, nothing willowy about her. She wore jeans and a sleeveless top and had pulled her curly hair into a ponytail. Like Ronan, she had a restless vitality, one that said she might wear human clothes and set the table with matching silverware, but she'd rather be out running through the woods as her bear.
"Sit down, Elizabeth," Ronan said. "We'll fatten you up."
He piled the rest of the bacon and eggs on another platter and carried it and the toast to the table. Elizabeth stared at the mounds of food heading her way.
"A slice of toast is fine with me," she said.
"Best thing for shock is a hearty meal." Ronan stuck his spatula under the eggs and piled a load on her plate. "I've got some roasted red pepper salsa if that's your thing, or good old-fashioned salt and pepper. Butter and jam for the bread, and best of all, honey. Bears like their honey."
Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to laugh or keep it to herself. She settled for a polite thank you. Ronan turned away. "Any time, Lizzie-girl."
Cherie and Olaf appeared as though by magic as Ronan started ladling out the food. Mabel waltzed in a moment later, and Rebecca poured coffee. Mabel sucked down her coffee, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment. Mabel had never been much of an alcohol drinker, thank God, but she worshipped coffee.
"Scott's still in the shower," Cherie said, in universal female derision for males who irritated them.
"I'll talk to him," Ronan said. "Let him be, Cherie. The Transition is hard."
"I'm still getting over mine." Rebecca sat down and shoveled as much food onto her plate as Ronan did onto his. No dieting in this house. "And with more and more males mate-claiming in this Shiftertown, the pickings are getting slim."
"Don't complain, woman," Ronan said. "There's four males for every female around here. It's me, Scott, and Olaf that will be going mateless. You can always hit on Ellison. He's a party animal."
Rebecca snorted. "He's a Lupine who's too full of himself."
Ronan shrugged. "Well, if you're going to be picky."
"What about Spike?" Mabel asked. She scooped up eggs hungrily. "He's cute. All those tatts. And then Connor. Mmm."
"Connor's a cub," Cherie said, wrinkling her nose. "And a Feline. And a Morrissey. And did I mention a Feline?"
"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked as she ate. "A Feline?"
"Means he turns into a wildcat," Cherie answered. "His whole family does. Ellison is a Lupine, a wolf. Wolves are all conceited--think they're noble creatures or something. We're bears, which of course are the best Shifters." She chortled.
"Cool," Mabel said. "Can I see you turn into a bear?"
"No shifting at the table," Ronan growled. "We have company, and I'm not cleaning up the mess."
Cherie winked at Mabel. "Later."
They were going to be BFFs any second, Elizabeth knew it. "We might not have time to do much visiting, Mabel," she said, chewing on thick Texas toast which did taste good with butter and honey. "I have to get back to the store and clean it up before we open. I'm going to need your help. We open at eleven, and it's already eight, so we need to get a move on."
Everyone at the table went quiet. The shower finally snapped off upstairs, adding to the silence.
"Elizabeth, you'll have to keep your store closed today," Ronan said. "I talked to Liam after you went to bed, and he says things are bad for you. So until he and I can work them out, you're staying here."
The entire table was looking at her. Cherie with her mottled hair, Rebecca with her even stare, Olaf with his wide black eyes. Only Mabel kept her gaze on her plate. Elizabeth, who'd learned the dynamics of a group home early in life, realized that as much as Rebecca and the others bantered with him, Ronan was the leader.
Elizabeth pushed back her chair, wiped her mouth on a napkin, and got to her feet. She said to Ronan, "Can we talk outside, please?" and then walked out the back door into the morning heat without waiting to see if he'd follow.
Chapter Five
Ronan went after her without hesitation. There was nothing better than a cute female with the hottest ass he'd ever seen ordering him around.
Behind him he heard Olaf say, a little fearfully, "Ronan . . . he will punish Lizbeth?"
"No, sweetie," Rebecca said. "But she might punish him."
The back door swung shut, cutting off Olaf's reply.
Elizabeth waited by her truck, arms folded. This morning she wore tight blue jeans and a little top that exposed both her navel and the tattoo on her collarbone. It was a butterfly. Nice.
Ronan didn't usually like small women, but decided he'd make an exception for Elizabeth, who was not tall but generously curved. Her smallness made him want to be gentle, although the fire in her eyes said she wasn't about to be gentle with him. Rebecca had that right.
"Let me explain something about the retail business," Elizabeth said as soon as he was within earshot. Human earshot--he could have heard her all the way in the kitchen, and he knew that his family was listening hard. "If your store closes unexpectedly, people think you're not opening again, and they go away and don't come back. I spent years building up this business, and it's the only thing between me and Mabel and the wolf at the door. If I don't open up, I don't make money. In fact, I lose money, because I still have to pay for my inventory and the lease and taxes and everything else. So I'm not letting a full-of-himself kid with a gun stop me. I learned a long time ago that you can't let yourself be a victim--or else you might as well crawl into a hole, block it up behind you, and stay there the rest of your life."