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Holly, pulling her into a hug. “Cassidy. We’ve been waiting for you for ten years. No pressure or anything.”
    Holly—to her credit—took it in stride. She laughed and said, “I work best under pressure.”
    “You hear that?” Cassidy slapped Jacob on the shoulder. “I like her already. C’mon in—what’s this?”
    “Oh, this is chicken cordon bleu.” Holly beamed, proud. She’d torn apart Jacob’s kitchen just to get the right ingredients.
    She was met with Cassidy and Mama Mae’s blank stares.
    “It’s chicken and ham,” she explained gently.
    “Oh! Why didn’t you say that in the first place? C’mon, let’s get this on the table—”

Chapter 11
    Dinner went smoothly enough. Jacob could feel his bear itching at the seams. Surrounded by his family and smells of other bears , it refused to give him any rest, tumbling around inside of him like a clumsy child. Jacob shoveled food down so he wouldn’t have to engage in conversation. Easy enough to do, anyway. Silence wasn’t a virtue in the Westmore house and Cassidy and Brent took turns drilling Holly with questions, and then took turns chastising the other for being so nosy. Holly— bless that girl —took it all with a smile.
    “Now, how’d my brother land such a pretty lil’ thing?” Brent asked, smirking.
    Jacob growled before he could stop himself. ( Mine. )
    If Holly noticed, she thankfully didn’t draw attention to the sound. “I got lucky,” she said and slipped her hand over his shoulders. Her nails scratched his back absently and his bear groaned.
    ( Yes, yes, yes. )
    It took Jacob a second to realize his foot was jack-rabbiting against the floor. Holly gave him a questioning look.
    He smiled. “You’re beautiful.” And shoved more food in his mouth to hide his embarrassment.
    Down, Beast.
    “So if you say yes, are you having the wedding this weekend?” Cassidy asked.
    “I mean, I guess so,” Holly said, her hand running over his arm. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
    Her hand on him sent sparks through his blood. He could feel his blood pulsing hotly, his fangs lengthening.
    ( Mark her. Make her yours. Pin her to the table and bite her .)
    Jacob stared ahead at a framed quilted image of a Native American fire pit and forcibly willed his bear down.
    “Brent, what’re you doing this weekend?” Cassidy asked.
    He shrugged. “I was gonna take my bear for a walk up the mountain. See what we find.”
    “Your bear?” Holly piped up. “Do you have a rescue?”
    Brent’s beer stalled on its way to his lips. He glanced down the table. “Uh…”
    Jacob’s blood went cold and Holly colored rapidly. “I mean…nothing wrong with that,” she said. “I think it’s great.”
    “Jacob, come help me out with the pie, will you?” Cassidy said, getting to her feet abruptly. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes looked lethal.
    Jacob took another swallow from his beer, then got up. “You done?” he asked, moving his hand to Holly’s plate.
    She nodded. She looked small again, her eyes begging him not to leave her in a room of soon-to-be in-laws who looked like they wanted to devour her. “Yes, thank you.”
    He pressed a small kiss to the top of her head and then took her plate and his and went into the kitchen, shoving them into the sink. He wiped his hands and barely made it to the pie before Cassidy hissed at him, “She doesn’t know what you are.”
    “She just got here yesterday, I’m easing her into it.”
    “ Easing her into it? You don’t got time for that. You could be marrying her within the week.”
    He swiped his finger over the edge of the pie, catching some blueberry filling and sucking it into his mouth.
    Cassidy lifted her knife. “I swear to God, Jacob Westmore, you touch that pie again and I’ll cut your damn finger off.”
    He lifted a hand. “Gimme that.”
    She did, reluctantly, and he began slicing pieces out of the pie. As he did, she leaned against the counter, folded her arms, and said,