Samson heaved the moving truck's rear door closed, then turned to give one last look at the cabin he'd lived in for the last twenty-five years. A thousand memories stirred in his mind. Triumphs and sorrows, lazy days, love and lust.
He shook his head to dispel the ghosts of the past before they could take root. "Too late to back out now." He'd already signed the sale contracts for both houses. The only thing left was the five-day-long drive from one corner of the continent to the other.
"I'd better not have to change a tire on this thing." The twenty-foot-long truck looked like it'd seen better days. Samson would've preferred something newer, but he wasn't spoiled for choice out in rural western-central Georgia. Fayetteville only had two long-distance movers, and the other option had been worse. He could've gone all the way up to Atlanta, but no.
Quit stalling
, Moonshadow prodded him.
I want to see the mountains.
"Yeah, yeah." Samson didn't object to the move. It'd been his idea, after all. Washington represented freedom to raise his family in the open, without lies. It was just hard to leave behind so much history. Samson shook his head again and made his way to the truck's cabin with a sigh. He pulled himself up into the driver's seat and closed the door.
"Ready to go, girls?" To Samson's surprise, Susannah had the middle seat, sandwiched between himself and Bekkah. He'd expected his lusty angel to take the spot for ease of access, if nothing else. And while Susannah no longer blushed at the sight of him, she always seemed more comfortable with his daughter.
"Mm!" Bekkah was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite the pre-dawn hour. The smile she sent him was sweeter than the sunrise. "I can't wait to get to our new home."
Susannah was a different story. "Mmph," she grunted. Sleep still clung to her half-lidded eyes. Even as he watched, the werepanther slumped to the side until her head rested against Bekkah's shoulder.
"Alright. Let's get a move on, then."
Bekkah's hand swatted his jeans-clad thigh. "Dad! Don't you start with the bad jokes."
"Darlin', I'm about to be a father twice over. I'm legally obligated to crack at least one dad joke a day." Bekkah glowered at him, then blew him a raspberry. Still, her right hand drifted to her now-obvious baby bulge, and another smile bloomed on her face.
"Alright, but one's the limit, got it?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a laugh and turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over a couple times, then caught and rumbled to life with a deep roar. The noise drew a wordless mumble from Susannah, who snuggled even closer to Bekkah. A turn of the wheel and some pressure on the gas pedal got them moving out toward the county road.
---
It took more than an hour to make it up the state road to Interstate 85. By the time he merged onto the highway and settled into the center-left lane, dawn's first light was already upon them. Despite leaving so early, traffic on the road was already heavy. Atlanta never slept, it seemed. It was one of the reasons Samson disliked the big city.
Cruising twenty miles per hour under the speed limit allowed him the opportunity to sneak glances at his copilots. Susannah was sound asleep now, her head nestled against Bekkah's chest. His daughter looked out the window with her left arm snaked around her friend's shoulders.
The werepanther wore practical clothes--a pair of jeans that hugged her hips and ass and a loose blouse--while Bekkah had on a sundress with, if Samson didn't miss his guess, nothing at all underneath it. At the very least, she was braless, proved by the dents her thick nipples made against her top.
When next Samson glanced over, Bekkah caught him looking. She shifted forward on the bench seat with a devilish smile, spreading her legs and inching her skirt's hem upward. He had to tear his gaze away from her back to the road before he crashed into some poor commuter. A low, husky chuckle chased him. "Let me know when we're past Atlanta traffic," Bekkah said.
"It'll be a while," he cautioned. "Thirty, forty minutes to 285, then another hour or so. We're the start of the morning rush." There'd been no way around it short of taking an even slower detour. Atlanta sucked in everyone who wanted to head north like a black hole, drawing them closer and closer until it crushed them with inescapable gravity.
"It's fine. I can wait. Until then," Bekkah said, keeping her voice soft so as not to wake Susannah, "tell me about our new home. I saw the pictures, but you were there."
"The landscape is beautiful. Stunning. The Cascades dominate the eastern sky, tall and covered in trees. The house is at the foot of Mount Baker, the third-tallest mountain in Washington. You can see it from Seattle." In truth, the mountain's proximity was a major draw for Samson. He'd always been drawn to the wilderness.
"Isn't it an active volcano?" Bekkah sounded more curious than frightened.
"Yes, but only in the geological sense. It hasn't erupted in a hundred and fifty years, and there's no evidence it'll change any time soon." He'd done quite a bit of research on the subject before committing to the move. "In fact, it's home to a big ski resort, though it's on the opposite side of the mountain from us."
"Ooh, I hadn't thought of skiing!"
"Not while you're pregnant." Samson had to put his foot down. "Especially not on Mount Baker. Once you have the twins and they get old enough to leave with a caretaker, we can take some vacation time."
"Spoilsport." He could almost hear Bekkah's pout. "By that time, I'll be working on the next one."
"We'll see," Samson said. He knew his daughter wanted more children, but the chances were very low after the first mating. "Anyway, there are trees everywhere. The area's classified as a rainforest. Lots of firs, spruces, red cedars, and hemlocks. It's thick with wildlife, too. I saw several deer, a grizzly bear, and an eagle."
Bekkah snickered. "I bet the deer will get scarce with Moony and Sunny around." Samson caught a hitch in Susannah's breathing, indicating a return to wakefulness. She seemed content to remain cuddled against Bekkah for the moment, not that he could blame her. He knew from frequent experience how wonderful those plush boobs were as pillows.
