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out her arms. “You must be the Savages. I like the sound of that!”
    Terry quails.
    “We’re just about to sit for dinner when we heard your car roll in. I’m Martha Skaarsgard, by the way.”
    She envelops Terry in a bear hug. Terry is a little surprised. She isn’t used to such open display of emotion from strangers, but she goes along with it anyway. Keep smiling . Martha smells of cinnamon and freshly baked pie.
    “Do I get one too?” Jake says.
    “Of course!” Martha tears herself away from Terry to size him up. “Wow, Peter didn’t tell me you were such a stunner. You’ve got yourself a heartbreaker of a young man now. You better hold on to him.”
    Jake drops his bags, grinning, and lets Martha sweep him up.
    “I’ll show you up to your room later. But you must be hungry and tired after your long journey. Was it easy to find our place?”
    “Sorry we’re late,” Jake says. “I took a wrong turn somewhere.”
    “ Come on then, the two of you. Dining room’s this way.”
    Martha breez es them both into a lounge done in homely, comforting colors. Terry looks around in delight, noting the haphazardly strewn cushions on comfortable sofas and the pastel curtains, all designed to give everything a warm, welcoming glow. This is what a family home should look like, she thinks. And this isn’t even Martha’s regular home. Her maiden name doesn’t happen to be Stewart, does it?
    The dining room is a huge chamber – very wood-beamed and cherry oak. Conversation immediately ceases as the two dozen people seated at the immense table look up. The blue-eyed man at the head of the table gets up and holds out his hand to the newcomers.
    “Jake! So glad you can make it. We were just about to send a hunting party after you, ha ha. This must be Terry. I’m Peter, by the way, your host for the weekend. And you’ve met Martha, my lovely wife of thirty-five years.”
    Terry takes his outstretched hand. Peter has a surprisingly good grip.
    “Sorry we’re late, but I took a wrong turn,” Jake says.
    “Please, sit.” Peter waves his hand at two empty seats in the middle of the table. “Don’t mind everyone. This is my family – my son, Karl, and his wife, Paula. Their teenage daughter, Mika.”
    A surly teenager with large hoop earrings doesn’t look up from texting on her cellphone. Her parents wave cheerily.
    “My oldest daughter, Karina, and her husband, Thom. Their twin sons, Halder and Jerome , who are about to enter college next semester. My younger daughter, Ethel. She isn’t married . . . yet.”
    “I’m a lesbian, Dad.”
    “Ha ha, don’t mind her. You just haven’t found the right wolf yet, honey.”
    Ethel crosses her eyes at her father. She is a striking, very platinum blond woman with the same facial features as her mother and sister, only she is much, much prettier. Her hair is cropped short and her cleavage very pronounced. Terry supposes she must be the family rebel, though Mika would be challenging her for the honor in a few years.
    “And these are our other guests. Jeff Hirsch and his lovely wife, Cassie.”
    From the way Jake’s shoulders suddenly straighten, Terry knows this must be one of the other two candidates for the job. Jeff Hirsch is a tall, ginger-haired man with very sharp hazel eyes. Terry immediately recognizes an alpha wolf, or a former one, when she sees him. Jeff could well be the alpha of his clan before he took a mate and retired from the role to go into corporate trappings.
    As for Cassie Hirsch, she must be eight months pregnant, at least. Her rotund abdomen is obvious even from above the table. She darts a nervous look at her husband. Terry can tell that she is a mousey woman – the kind who would be completely obedient and subservient to her alpha mate.
    Good for him . Her . . . not so much .
    As for Jake, his natural competitiveness is now kicking in. So he was late to the party. Score One for Jeff Hirsch. But Jake will not take this lying down, Terry knows.