Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(29)

Yes, this was what she needed.

It was a pretty garden. Stepping-stone path, patches of colorful flowers, and plants growing in cute little planters. But she couldn’t take credit for it. The only real contributions she’d made were the sculptures and the mermaid fountain. It was Marcia who’d done the rest. Marcia who’d bought the magnolia tree, the wisteria on the trellis, and the flower boxes of mock orange, roses, and lily of the valley.

“Every woman needs a little sanctuary where she can relax,” Marcia had said.

Frankie had refrained from saying that her studio was her sanctuary, because she’d known that Marcia was trying to be nice. Known that Marcia wanted good things for her, wanted her to be happy, and wanted to find ways to connect with her.

She’d heard enough stories about her mother to know that Caroline and Marcia had shared some hobbies, like gardening, playing the piano, and listening to classical music. Marcia had no doubt hoped that her granddaughter would be much the same. Instead she’d ended up with someone who barely remembered to water plants (hence the sprinklers), who would rather play with metal and clay than a piano, and who enjoyed blasting rock music as she worked.

Really, Frankie felt bad that they didn’t share any interests. Just as she felt bad that she was at odds with Brad and her grandparents. They might not particularly understand her, but they did care for her. They did want her to be happy. They just wanted to be in control of what made her happy. And that made her wolf crazy.

Currently her wolf was in a shitty mood, which meant it probably wasn’t the best time for Frankie to be having negative thoughts. She needed to relax.

She cast a glance at the hot tub at the end of the deck. A dip in that might help . . . Maybe later.

Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes and soaked in her surroundings. All she could hear was the chirping of the birds, the gurgle of the fountain, the wood snapping in the pit, and the rhythmic creak of the chair as she rocked. Little by little, the tension in her body slipped away, and—

Frankie snapped awake at the knock on the front door. She blinked, surprised to realize she’d dozed off. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but the sky had darkened a little.

Knuckles again rapped on the door. Sighing, she pushed to her feet. It was probably Geoffrey, she thought. When Marcia was unsuccessful in getting Frankie’s cooperation, he would often later come and try to “reason” with her. In other words, he’d try persuading her to back down.

But as Frankie swung open the front door, she found that it wasn’t Geoffrey. No. It was Trick, leaning one hip against the rail of her porch. Her wolf instantly perked up. As for Frankie . . . it was like her system took a long, relieved breath. “Why are you here?” she asked, though not unkindly.

He gave her a pitiful look. “I’m hungry. Feed me.”

“You’re not even kidding, are you?”

He pushed away from the rail and stalked forward. “I never joke about food.”

“I’m positive that if you went home, Grace would make you something.”

“But then I wouldn’t have your stimulating company or access to this amazing mouth.” Trick planted a long, lingering kiss on her lips. Tasting. Teasing. Possessing. He’d missed her. Barely knew her, really, but he’d missed her sultry voice, her secret smile, her quick humor, and her little mean streak.

Ending the kiss with a nip to her lip, Trick framed her face with his hands, drinking her in. That was when he noticed the lines of strain there. His hackles rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just been one of those days.”

Trick gently backed her into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. “Tell me what’s wrong. Don’t say ‘Nothing.’ Tell me. Get it out.”

She sighed. “I had lunch with my uncle and grandparents. It didn’t go so well.”

Pissed that the fuckers had upset her again, Trick felt his jaw harden. He didn’t voice his anger—she didn’t need to deal with his shit on top of theirs. He rubbed his nose against hers and skimmed one hand down her hair. “Want my wolf to go piss on their tires?” As he’d hoped, she laughed. It was a quiet, tired sound, but still.

“Nah, but I appreciate the offer.” Frankie released a sigh of pleasure as his fingers feathered over her nape. “I really don’t think I’ll make good company, but if you want to take your chances you can grab a beer and join me on the deck.” His face went all warm and lazy, and she figured it had pleased him that he hadn’t had to coax his way farther inside. Well, she wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t want him there. That would just be stupid.

“I’ll take my chances.” Trick grabbed a beer from her stainless steel double-door fridge. Outside he settled on the rocking chair beside hers. “Sweet setup you’ve got here.” Especially with the hot tub and the monster grill.

He was guessing she’d made the sculptures. One was a black, twisted, rickety, evil-looking tree that contradictorily had beautiful white blooms dangling from the branches. The second was a large black chess piece that was peppered with moths and had six crows perched on top. Neither sculpture should have looked right in such a beautiful garden, but they gave it an edge and made it look better. Balanced out the natural perfection of the flowers.

“How’s your day been so far?” she asked.