Spencer and Eric walked hand in paw back to her house. Eric saw there was an unfamiliar, to him that is, green pickup in the Lawson’s driveway. To say it was beat up was an understatement. It looked like someone dragged the truck through a war zone, and then put it back together with silly putty and crazy glue.
The rear bumper was crooked, and the tail pipe was being held up off the ground with duct-tape. The back window had a long crack, and one of the doors was entirely stripped of paint. There were several bumper stickers, three for Seattle sport teams, the rest extremely opinionated. Sayings like, “Gun control means using both hands”, “If money is the root of all evil, why do churches beg for it” and “You can’t spell ‘crap’ without ‘rap’.”
“Wow.” That’s all Eric could say as he learned first hand just how domineering Mike Lawson was.
“Ya. He’s the kind of person who will cover up one political bumper stick with another if the person loses. But don’t worry, you’re a winner.” Spencer kissed Eric’s cheek and then dragged him inside the house.
Eric was nervous he was going to say something stupid to Mike and earn his ire. But to his relief, the elder werewolf was relaxing comfortably on the couch, watching another football game.
“Hey, look who’s back!” Mike said upon seeing his granddaughter. Spencer smiled and waved. Mike got up when he saw there was someone else behind her. A teen age boy who could only be Eric Anderson. He was smaller than Mike expected, though from everything Spencer had told Mike about her boyfriend, he wasn’t too much to look at. But if he Spencer happy, and treated her right, Mike couldn’t care less what the kid looked like.
“Hi, Mike Lawson. You must be Eric.” Mike introduced himself. Eric set down the bag in his hands and shook Mike’s hand. He tried not to wince as Mike’s grip was awfully strong. Mike was so used to encountering other weres, he forgot how strong he was.
“Oops, sorry son. Sometimes I forget my own strength. Say, what’s in the to go bag? Smells good.” Mike took a good sniff, and discerned it was dessert from the Anderson’s.
“Brought you a variety of pies. Try not to eat too many.” Spencer said.
“Oh, I’m two hundred and something I eat as many pies as I want!” Mike scoffed, taking the bag from Eric. Mike strode into the kitchen, “ooing” and “ahhing" at the bag’s contents.
Spencer was somewhat amused by her grandfather’s behavior. Without Evan around, Mike was like a complete different person. When Evan was there, most of his father’s energy was devoted to pushing his buttons. But without, Mike was much more pleasant to be around.
“You two want any? Or do I get this treasure trove all to myself?” Mike asked as he walked away. Spencer and Eric quickly followed him.
“No, I don’t think I want to look at another piece of food for a week.” Spencer said.
“Eric?”
“No thank you. Believe it or not, that hardly put a dent in what I’ve got at home. Mom went overboard this year.” Eric said.
“Right, Spencer did mention something about you being a little Emeril in the making.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. My mom wanted to make sure that my brother and I were able to do more than make popcorn or Ramen.”
“Mmm, probably should have signed your father up for some cooking lessons. Guy doesn’t know his way around a pot or pan.” Mike laughed. At least Evan wasn’t there to hear this. Though several blocks down he felt his ears burning.
“Well, you kids go have fun doing whatever. Just keep it clean. Your dad would throw me out on my tail if I let anything R rated happen in his house.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t.” Spencer darted her eyes down just to check that Eric’s after dinner wood had gone. Which it had. Otherwise her grandfather might think she was lying. But Mike trusted her. Spencer wasn’t an idiot. She knew better than to do something that would get her grounded until she turned five hundred.
“So YOU want to go upstairs?” Spencer asked Eric. They exited the kitchen and moved to the living room. The staircase on the other side of the room was seeming more and more ominous.
“If you think we should.” Eric said, feeling that erection he’d been fighting coming back. There was no way in hell they were going to end up doing anything. At least nothing that would result in Eric turning into a werewolf or werepanther.
“We’re going upstairs Grandpa!” Spencer didn’t bother to yell since Mike could hear just fine.
“Play nice kitties!” Mike called from the kitchen.
“Uh, did he just say kitties?” Eric asked.
“Ya, he did.” Spencer laughed. As she and Eric ascended the stairs, Mike smiled after them. He was glad to see the young couple so happy together. If anyone deserved some happiness in this world, it was Spencer.
“Too bad you guys never got to meet her,” Mike thought of his late wife and elder son. Holidays were always tough for him because they brought memories that felt too fresh and were too painful. Beneath that tough veneer, Mike was a lot more sensitive than he’d care to admit.