Unconventionally Wolf by Julie Steimle (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📕

"How about school books?" Rick asked, growing annoyed. It was still the total controlling thing going on. Before the summer incident had occurred, his father had given him plenty of freedom.

With another laugh, Mr. Deacon said, << I'm glad your spirits are rising. But I want you focused on the convention. Leave everything else behind. >>

"Not even a comic book?" Rick tested.

<< Especially not that. >> His father groaned. But it was in good humor.

Rick missed that. His father's laugh. His father had been in bad humor since he had fallen in with a wolf pack. It was also ironic that his father wasn't half as upset about what happened between him and Daisy as he was at the pack's persistence to maintain contact with him. Rick believed his father thought they were trying to steal him away. And though Rick knew his father was protective, he never felt him so possessive before. He wondered if that was another reason why his mother had divorced his dad—never mind getting freaked out by her son's first werewolf transformation.

<< Alright then, >> his father said. << Be on the lookout for Carl. Oh, and by the way, everyone will be calling you Mr. Deacon. Do not correct them. Don't joke around and say: 'Mr. Deacon is my father.' You represent me when you go to this convention—so basically, you are me. Understand? >>

With a cringe, Rick moaned. "Really?"

<< It is professional, and you must be so. >>

Of course. But Rick had hoped not to have to go by the title of Mr. Deacon for just a little longer. The mantle of CEO was not something he was ready for yet. And he constantly wished his father to have a long life—hoping to take his place only after many, many years.

"I got it. Mr. Deacon…"

<< Unless, of course, you bump into a friend. >>

Rick laughed. "Dad, my friends will all be in school like me."

<< You'll be in New York. And I do believe Matthew is training with the NYPD there along Joshua Johnson. >>

"And why would they show up at an environmental convention?" Rick asked. He stepped out of the stairwell, finally, and strolled through the foyer of the dorm toward the front doors.

<< I don't know. Maybe you could call them and meet up for lunch. It has been a while since you have seen them. >>

But Rick cringed. As much as he liked Matthew Calamori and JJ, he didn't want to tangle them up in his mess his life was at the moment. Besides, Matthew could read thoughts behind spoken words and could tell if he was keeping a secret—and he didn't want Matt to know about Daisy. Not yet anyway. Not until after the baby was born and there was no getting around it.

<< It's just a suggestion. >>

Sighing, Rick stepped out and gazed up toward the sun. The sun always made him feel better. He could think in the sunlight.

<< I love you, son. I'm just worried about you. >>

Closing his eyes, Rick just soaked up the sunlight. "I know, Dad."

<< I'll call you when you should arrive at the hotel. Carl is under special instructions to handle things if it gets too overwhelming. But son, it would be a good idea if you called your own friends once in a while to help you out. Extra eyes around the convention center always helped me. >>

Groaning, Rick nodded and opened his eyes. "I got it. That's why you want me to call Matt and JJ."

<< I wouldn't even mind you bringing on Tom Brown, though he would be a handful in a place like that. More trouble than he is worth, sometimes. >>

Laughing, Rick nodded. Tom, his old roommate at Gulinger Private Academy was nicknamed Trouble for pity's sake, and for good reason as he was half imp. But Rick said, "Can't. Tom is on a covert CIA training mission out in Barbados."

His father huffed. << And you know about it? Does he not understand the meaning of the word covert? >>

"I think he was bragging." Rick chuckled. One of the main things he loved and hated about Tom Brown was that he was the king of mischief. But he made an awesome bodyguard when you could get him to cooperate. It also had to do with being half-imp. Tom especially was enjoying being in the CIA—and teasing them. Tom had confessed that he actually joined so he could have access to government toys enabling him to protect people like Rick. And Matthew had confirmed that Tom wasn't lying. But Rick didn't want Tom around anymore than Matthew. Tom overheard the temptations people had, and Rick didn't need him to hear his imps shouting for him to run away and join the pack at Wolverton just so he could make love to Daisy as much as he wanted. It was embarrassing.

<< You made that sound. >>

Rick puzzled. "What sound?"

Sighing, his father said, << That sound you make when you start thinking of her again. >>

Groaning, Rick wished he wasn't so obvious.

<< You need to find a way to get her off your mind. >>

"It is extremely hard," Rick groaned, clenching his teeth. "Especially since she is going to have my baby."

<< I think that is just an excuse, and you know it is. You are not thinking about the baby. You are thinking about her. >>

Which was true.

Honestly, Rick felt incredibly guilty about that. Despite how he tried to focus on the baby, getting updates on the child's progress through an agreed-upon, monitored, monthly phone call to the house, his mind always turned toward her and how he wanted to hold her, be with her, make love to her. The pregnancy was four months along. Daisy was excited, already counting the days and in each phone call she talked about her checkups and the progress the baby was making. He wished he could feel as happy about it as Daisy did. But he didn't. Not really. He just felt responsible for impregnating her.

<< Maybe you need to get that paper out and read it again. >>

Groaning, Rick nodded, realizing his father was right, and he dug into his pocket for his wallet. Inside was a worn note paper which he had folded up and carried with him as a reminder of reality whenever his hormones took over his senses.

<< I'll call you later. >>

And his father hung up.

Tucking away his cell phone in is front pocket, Rick walked over to a bench and sat down, unfolding the paper. In one of his private therapy sessions with Pastor Cartwright (Andrew's grandfather), the elderly pastor had Rick write up this compare and contrast list for Rick to straighten out his thoughts so he could think clearly about his attraction for Daisy. Their attraction was entirely chemical, after all. When he wrote out the list, one column was entirely what he was looking for in a wife—barring perfection. He stared at it. It had to be a practical list, as the future CEO of Deacon Enterprises needed a wife who could handle the media getting into her face, as well as him being a werewolf. The other column was a list of the qualities which attracted him to Daisy. The contrast was glaring.

Yet as he read the list, he stared at the last thing he had written about Daisy. She wasn't a gold digger. She only wanted him. And a life with her would be so much simpler.

Rick shook off that last thought.

He was just going through withdrawals. And it wasn't just about Daisy. At least not for the Wolverton pack. They wanted him. She was just the bait. He didn't really want to run away to where the wolves of Wolverton had relocated after the summer fiasco. Not really. Pastor Cartwright had also had him logically add up what would happen to him if he did leave his life to join the Wolverton pack.

First and foremost, he would not have the Deacon fortune anymore to fall back on when times got hard. So, no money. That meant he would have to get an ordinary job and rely on that job only for his income. And if he did abandon his current path at getting a college education (which aimed for degrees in Economics and Business), then he would have to take a job in a store or factory—as there was no way he could actually make a career playing basketball like he used to dream of as a kid. He wasn't as good as his friend Peter McCabe was in soccer who would go pro within the next few years.

And he would hate a factory job.

He would also be leaving all his friends behind.

That was the worst part. He had many friends from many walks of life around the country. But the pack was adverse to his main ones, if not all of them as they were not wolves. His main friends from Middleton Village were the Holy Seven. And the pack was terrified of them.

But even then, if he was willing to do all that just so he could be with Daisy, he had to face the facts that life would be dull and rather pathetic between the full moons. He might even become a bitter wolf like Mr. Blithe.

Rick shuddered. Honestly, thinking of Mr. Blithe (who was an abusive werewolf with a poor trapped human wife and three kids) was a perfect deterrent against going back to the pack. Mr. Blithe despised him. And Rick didn't want that family to suffer unduly if the man transferred his wrath onto them.

"Oh good! You are already ready!" Carl Webb marched up the sidewalk, grinning at Rick.

Rick quickly folded up the paper and tried to tuck it back into his wallet.

"Nuh uh uh." Carl held out his hand for the paper. "Let me smell it first."

"It is not one of those," Rick moaned. But he handed over the list. Carl was another person in the know about his 'addiction'. Rick didn't know how much he knew, only that Carl had been handling their mail since Henry discovered Daisy's postcards, which Rick had hidden in various places around the house. All the postcards had Daisy's scent on them. And they had kept Rick in his addiction despite his father's efforts to remove Rick from her influence. All the postcards had been burned and the house had to be fumigated to eliminate her scent from it, while Rick was forced to stay at the local bed and breakfast with Henry, groaning while being made to wash her scent off of him also. Rick's withdrawal pains had been agonizing.

Carl sniffed the paper once then handed it back, not even reading it. It was one good thing Rick liked about the man. Carl minded his own business.

"Well, we have to be careful." Carl then turned on his heels and started to head back the way he had come. He halted after a few steps when Rick did not follow. "Come on. Time's a wasting."

Moaning, Rick hung his shoulders and folded back up the paper, putting it into his wallet. But he didn't budge. "Can't I go back to my room first and change?"

"Nope." Carl nodded sharply to him. "Everything you need is in the car. You can change tonight at the hotel after you study the files your father left for you."

Dragging his feet, Rick moaned.

But Carl eyed him sharply as he said, "I hope you don't intend to walk like that at the convention. You need to hold yourself with the same dignity as your father."

Groaning, Rick squared his shoulders. Yet he replied as he caught up with Carl, "No one on this planet has as much dignity as my father."

Suppressing a smirk, Carl nodded. "True."

As they got into the car, Rick thought about what his father said about getting some friendly protection at the conference. A person had come to mind, actually, when his father talked about Tom Brown.