4
Passing traffic, as well as the wails of kidlets in pushchairs that strolled by, had created a steady hum all morning, but lack of noise from the site equipment, after listening to it for hours, allowed the first quiet calm of the day.
All thanks to Jem.
Jem had given birth to a girl September gone, one that smelled suspiciously like she carried the dominant werewolf gene. Since then, panic slam-dunked her mate, Nate’s younger son Sean, into uselessness pretty much every time she and the baby left the house.
I couldn’t blame him. In his shoes, I’d have probably been the same.
The only time Sean didn’t climb the walls was when they visited the site—and, primarily, him.
Unfortunately for Jem, her role as interior designer for the company wouldn’t be needed until we had at least a cou
