The Shadows of Christmas Past

as the tall stranger from Murphy's store strode up behind the Fennicks.
    "Hey, cousin," he said, putting a big hand on thin, sharp-featured Terry's shoulder. Then he held a chair out for Annette.
    Quite the gentlemen, Marj decided.
    Annette blushed and looked quite flustered at this gallantry. Terry took a seat beside his wife, and the stranger settled into the folding chair next to Marj. He reached a big hand across the table toward Pat, and said, "I'm Harrison Blethyin, but everybody calls me Harry. Nice to meet you."
    The whole time he spoke, Marj couldn't help but notice that he was looking at her. And she couldn't help but look back. She wasn't sure what to make of it, and the amused twinkle in his blue eyes was—disconcerting.
    It made her want to snuggle up close to him, unbutton his shirt, and start doing things that it was best not to think about while sitting across from the minister. She also had the feeling that Harry Blethyin knew exactly what she was feeling, and it was exactly what he wanted from her.
    "Hello, Marjorie Piper," Harry's smile widened and his eyes turned hot. "It's good to see you again." His look implied that he definitely hadn't seen enough the first time.
    Marj went hot all over but managed to say calmly enough, "It's only been an hour."
    "You two know each other?" Pat asked.
    "How's Taffy?" Harry asked, as though it was the most urgent thing in the world. He put his big hand over hers on the tabletop. "Did he enjoy the eggnog?"
    "We do not know each other," Marj answered Pat. Yet she didn't pull her hand away, though there was no reason for allowing Harry's familiarity.
    "It was the eggnog that brought us together. And Sam Murphy, of course."
    "You are being inane," Marj told Harry. She looked at the Fennicks as Harry's fingers twined with hers. "How's the baby? And how's Phil? I haven't seen him for a while." And who is this man, and why is he with you ?
    "I'm a distant cousin," Harry said. "I've come for the holidays."
    Marj didn't believe him. She didn't know why. Maybe because it felt like he'd plucked the words out of her head. It was as if they could silently speak to each other, which shook her.
    This was an intimacy far different than the empathy she'd always shared with animals.
    "Welcome to Kennedyville, Mr. Blethyin," Pat spoke up.
    "Call me Harry."

    You should be called dangerous , Marj thought She could sense it, beneath the good looks and the easy charm. He shrugged out of his brown leather jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to bare muscular forearms, and sat back in his chair, looking like he was simply enjoying this small-town social function.
    But there was something watchful about him. An aura that said he owned whatever space he was in. Everyone was looking at him. He knew it, expected it, and paid it no mind. The man filled the room, and this being a gym, that meant he took up a lot of emotional space. He was alpha to the max, even just sitting there, smiling.
    Marj didn't think she liked his overwhelming maleness , but it certainly was compelling. She'd bet every woman in that room felt a bit flushed and more female because of Mr. Blethyin's charisma.

    The deep, inner wolf part of Harry didn't like it that Marjorie Piper was with another male.
    He must be more attracted to her than he'd thought, or he wouldn't be having this reaction.
    And he wouldn't want to be touching her above all else. Touching was a very important part of the mating ritual.
    He was here to work, he reminded himself, not to start a ruckus with another male over the right to possess a mate. Especially a male like Patrick Muller. It was beneath his dignity; it wouldn't be fair to pick on someone who was so obviously a beta.
    The first thing he'd noticed when he entered the gym was Marjorie Piper sitting alone with the man, looking bored. He'd been tempted to cross the room and take her away immediately.
    But since he was here on business, he'd sent his kinfolk to make sharing this table seem ordinary. He hated having to use the Fennicks. They were worried parents and wary of being around their human neighbors for any length of time. But they'd volunteered to do anything they could to help, so he took them at their word.
    "So, you know my young cousin, Phil," he said to Marj, getting down to business. "He's grown a lot lately, don't you think?"
    "I don't know about lately," she answered. "I haven't seen him for a couple of months."
    The scent he'd encountered at her ranch had