Page 115 of Fire Dancer
Everyone froze.
Pippa locked eyes with me, then studied the envelope. “Postmarked Friday morning — before everything went down.”
No one spoke as Pippa tore the flap of the envelope and removed the letter. A second slip of paper fluttered to the rug. Erin bent to retrieve it while Pippa read aloud.
“Dear Ms. Martin. It was a pleasure to have met you and have the chance to admire your glasswork. It meets our needs perfectly…” She snorted and murmured, “Bet your ass, it did.” Then she went on reading. “Although the committee has not yet met to judge all submissions, I wish to reserve the rights to your work with this small token of my appreciation…” Pippa flipped the paper over to check the back. “What token?”
Erin straightened slowly, staring at the paper she’d retrieved. A check.
“This.” She turned it around.
Abby stared. “Five thousand dollars?”
“Five thousand?” Pippa shrieked.
“Poetic justice.” Erin grinned.
“If she can cash it,” Abby pointed out.
Pippa rushed through the rest of the letter.
“This sum is separate from the contest prize purse. Should the committee deem your work the winner, you will receive the entire purse in addition to this payment. I hold your work in high esteem and look forward to seeing more soon. Sincerely, Victor Jananovich.”
She turned the check over twice, dumb struck. “Wow. But even if I can cash it, wouldn’t it be taking blood money?”
“No, it would be compensation for the glass you lost in the fire,” Abby growled.
I wasn’t too hopeful, but when Pippa went to the bank the next day, the check cashed.
I agreed with Erin and Abby in accepting the money as compensation for everything Pippa had been through. However, she’d decided to give it to Delaney — but Delaney declined, telling Pippa to put it to good use.
And she did, using it to install a decent kitchen and bathroom in the barn. I’d never had such fun shopping, and we found a great deal on secondhand cabinets and appliances. We threweverything we had into the project during my week off work and in the weeks that followed — the perfect antidote, I discovered, to falling into the overtime trap. When my work hours ended, I was happy to hurry back to the ranch and squeeze in another few hours on a home that felt more and more…well,homey…each day.
Every night, Pippa and I fell into bed tired but satisfied. Every morning, we woke up snuggled close. Breakfasts turned into together time rather than just shoveling down food on the run. We drove to town for work together, too, and met up again for the drive back.
A perfect rhythm. A perfect life. Which only left one stone unturned.
The mating bite. A time-old rite of passage that turned a wolf and his mate into partners for life.
I kept reminding my wolf to be patient while Pippa came to grips with everything that had transpired. But one evening when we were putting the final touches on the kitchen cabinets and counter…
“Looking good,” Pippa declared.
“It does,” I agreed, admiring the space.
She patted my rear with a grin. “I wasn’t talking about the cabinets.”
I laughed, then dusted off the counter, checking our work.
Pippa tapped the counter. “We need to test this sucker.”
I nodded, too stuck in construction mode to pick up what she really meant.
I caught on fast, though. Especially when Pippa perched on the edge of the counter and drew me into the space between her legs.
“I think we need to check the joints,” she murmured, working her lips against mine.
I pulled her to the very edge of the counter until all of her was pressed against all of me. Especially the good parts.