When a Liger Mates (A Lion's Pride #10) - Eve Langlais Page 0,2

think it’s cute,” exclaimed Lacey.

“Oh, please. It’s because he’s horny.” Aunt Lena wagged her finger. “I hear that Tigranov girl won’t let him have any until they’re married.”

“That’s because Grandma threatened to geld Dean if he touched her before their union was sanctified,” Lacey told them in a theatrical hush that probably everyone heard for a mile around.

All true. Lawrence had to listen to his best friend as he moaned about the lack of nookie.

“I never knew tigers could be such sticklers for propriety,” Lenore declared with a shake of her head. “In my day—”

“Woman wore stirrup pants and thought they were sexy.” Lena snorted.

“Don’t be snickering so hard. You had the same teased hair.” An arched brow went with Lenore’s rejoinder.

“But I had the good sense to never wear those fluorescent biker shorts,” Lena said with a tilt of her chin.

As the newest fight ramped up, Lawrence, being a shit disturber, just had to toss in, “Okay, boomers.”

It almost cost him one of his lives.

Luckily, the aunts loved him, and they all made it to the wedding on time and got to see confirmed bachelor Neville Dean Horatio Fitzpatrick get married. His best friend had chosen to bind himself to one woman—gulp—for life.

Despite what the married folks and others said, it gave Lawrence the shudders. He couldn’t even manage six days in a relationship. How the heck did forever work? He knew firsthand how the whole dating thing worked; the first date was always the best, sometimes he could squeak a decent second. By the third, it was all downhill.

Best to keep things short and sweet. He planned to be single forever. But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the company of women.

And weddings were a great place to get laid.

The ceremony was thankfully boring, the grandmother having bribed some bishop or other to officiate. Apparently, it was a prestige thing. It meant standing in place, or kneeling, only rarely sitting, and there was singing. Lots of it.

As best man, Lawrence suffered it all. On a positive note, this time the bride didn’t try to kill him. A long story and the main reason why Dean and Natasha got together.

The reception after the wedding provided a massive buffet, a live band, and lots of bodies, a good number of them shimmying and swaying. They couldn’t resist a good beat.

Many of them he already knew. Cousin. Cousin. Second cousin—which still counted as family when it came to extracurricular bedroom activities. His aunts. Dean’s aunts. Then there were the ones he knew he shouldn’t go near. Daughter of a Russian mobster. Wife. More wives. A few grandmas who smiled at him. The prospects appeared rather slim.

And then she emerged.

Cute as a chipmunk, her hair swept into a ponytail, glasses dark-rimmed and rectangular. Her curves just right. Her humanity on display as she managed to trip over her own feet and go flying.

Chapter Two

The tray almost slipped out of Charlotte’s hands as the door to the kitchen swung open requiring she lean out of the way. The tray she carried—with a double layer of bacon-wrapped shrimp and scallops—tilted slightly, but none of the appetizers hit the floor. She managed to straighten herself without mishap and sighed in relief. Disaster averted.

Usually, she stuck to washing dishes because she was known to be clumsy, but they’d been short staffed on the floor, and she fit in the uniform of black slacks and white blouse. Clumsy or not, they wanted her serving food.

The tray seemed easy enough to hold on to, except for the fact it proved more unwieldy than expected. But other people did it all the time. She’d get better with practice. She’d learned all kinds of new skills since she’d left a decent-paying job in a marketing firm to come to Russia. Given she didn’t speak the language, her working choices proved limited. Currently, she had two jobs, one to survive, the other to save so she could go back home.

This evening’s gig involved a catered meal for an after-wedding reception being held at a hotel featuring some of the most gorgeous people Charlotte had ever seen. Tall, muscular men, athletic women, graceful in a way that only made her ultra-conscious about her own shortcomings, like literally short. By at least a foot on most of them.

If someone called her fun-sized one more time, she might show them the biggest advantage to her height. She’d dropped a few guys in the past for thinking they could get fresh with her.

But what of