She climbed the porch steps; he sat at the edge of the trail.
Safe and locked inside the cabin, she grabbed her phone and took a picture from the kitchen door of the wolf watching her. A howl sounded in the distance. Her wolf cocked his ears, then threw back his head and answered the call. He needed to return to his pack and she needed to get to bed.
She gave a little finger wave, her nails tapping against the glass plane of the kitchen door. The wolf acknowledged with a nod, then bolted into the woods.
“Best decision ever.” Penelope congratulated herself on answering the ad that brought her here.
A gloriously naked man, a friendly wolf...her life was already more exciting than it had ever been. And she’d only been at Walker’s Run for two days.
Whatever else the summer held, she was ready.
Chapter 4
The incessant tick of the large clock on Ruby’s living room wall thumped inside Tristan’s achy head. After spending the day volunteering at Youth Outreach, he would’ve rather crashed in his large plush bed for a few hours before going to work tonight. Not that he would’ve gotten much sleep. Whenever his mind quieted, Penelope filled his thoughts.
In spite of their unconventional introduction, he hadn’t expected to see Nel again. Bumping into her so soon after their first meeting had made it difficult for him to forget her. Excitement sparkled in her eyes and the sweetest smile plumped her cheeks, and the most unusual thrill had tickled his chest.
Tristan had felt it again, last night when he’d caught her scent in the woods. He, along with Henry “Cooter” Coots—the pack’s chief sentinel, and a few others were out trying to round up Cybil, a large, ornery potbellied pig who’d escaped from Mary-Jane McAllister’s farm.
Realizing Nel was nearby, he’d broken formation to get ahead of Cybil and cut her off before she encountered Nel. Cooter gave him hell later, but it had been worth it.
The ruckus Cybil created had frightened Nel. So had the sudden appearance of his wolf. Nel had called out for Tristan—the man—and the urgency to shift so that he could soothe her had caught him off-guard.
Wahyan law prohibited wolfans from revealing themselves to humans. The only exceptions were if the human was in mortal danger or was the wolfan’s mate.
Nel was neither, so he’d done his best to assure her in his wolf form.
Once she overcame her initial fear, Nel had touched him. Or rather, his wolf. The electric charge from the contact had opened something between them. Whatever it was, the brief experience had felt incredibly intimate.
“Jaxen should’ve been here by now.” Nathan Durrance wore a path between the front door and living room.
“Not unless they drove twice the speed limit, Dad.”
Per protocol, any Wahya returning to the pack had to submit to a complete physical exam given by Doc Habersham, the pack’s physician. Cooter had called nine minutes ago to report they were leaving the clinic with Jaxen, and the drive to Ruby’s house took seventeen minutes.
“Sit down, Nate.” Ruby clunked her empty porcelain teacup against the matching saucer. “You’re making me nervous.”
Tristan stood, collected Ruby’s dishes and walked to the kitchen to pour her another cup. If she hadn’t wanted a refill, she would’ve told him. Her silence was its own reward. It meant he’d done something right. Otherwise, she would’ve given him a tongue-lashing.
In the community, his position as a deputy commanded a certain amount of respect. The same was true of his sentinel status within the pack. However, Aunt Ruby cared little to nothing for either. To her, he was the tagalong little brat she’d had to feed and clothe whenever his parents forgot to do so, which was more often than not.
Truthfully, Tristan didn’t need Ruby, but she was blood-kin. After Jaxen was banished, well, even before that, Tristan had been the one to look after her—not that she would ever admit to wanting or needing his help.
Still, he visited Ruby at least every other day to make her meals and do some cleaning. Mostly she napped on the couch and never did much more than complain.
Ruby’s mate had died when Tristan was a child. Never entirely healthy, she had a predisposition to respiratory problems. Weak lungs, she called it. The older she grew, the more often she got sick, creating yet another job for Tristan.
“Here you go.” He held out the cup and saucer for her.
Outside, car doors closed.
“He’s here!” Ruby grabbed Tristan’s arm and tried to stand.
Hot tea jostled over the edge of the cup and sloshed down on his hand. Biting back a few choice words, he sat the dishes on the coffee table, then helped Ruby to her feet.
Tristan’s dad reached to open the front door.
“My house, my son.” Ruby jabbed her cane at her brother’s backside. “I greet him first.”
Gut tightening in a viselike grip, Tristan gathered Ruby’s discarded dishes and returned to the kitchen. She wouldn’t think any more about hot tea tonight.
The front door creaked open and the porch squeaked beneath the thud of heavy footsteps.
Arms folded over his chest, Tristan leaned against the sink and waited for the show.
It wasn’t a long wait.
“Mama!” Emotion choked Jaxen’s voice. Arms fastened around Ruby’s thin frame, he lifted his mother off her feet.
“You’re home.” She wept into his chest. “You’re finally home.”
A fist-sized lump formed in Tristan’s throat.
“Ah, Mama. Don’t cry.” Jaxen set her down gently. “I’m back for good.”
“Glad to hear it, son.” Nate vigorously shook Jaxen’s hand, then pulled him into a bear hug.
Tristan inhaled sharply and the lump in his throat dropped to his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time his father showed any affection toward him or called him son.
The buzz in his head drowned out the rest of the homecoming exchanges. He glanced at Cooter and Reed lingering in the doorway. At a curt nod from Tristan, the sentinels silently departed.
“Well, well.” The edge in Jaxen’s voice was expected.
Tristan unfolded his arms and straightened to his full height.
Expression hard, Jaxen strode into the kitchen. “It’s been a long time since I saw your ugly mug.”
Odd thing to say. They were the same height and build, with features so similar they could be mirror images of each other. The only significant physical difference was their eyes. Like Ruby and Nate, Jaxen’s eyes were blue-gray and slightly squinty. Tristan had his mother’s eyes, big and brown.
“I missed you, man.” Jaxen clasped Tristan’s shoulders in a brotherly hug.
Not at all what Tristan expected.
“Who punched you in the face?” Tristan asked, noting the fading bruise beneath Jaxen’s eye. He hooked his finger in Jaxen’s collar and pulled on the shirt. “Why is your shoulder bandaged?”
“Well—” Jaxen slightly lowered his head in a sly shake. “You don’t think the bastards at Woelfesguarde would let me go without a proper send-off, do you?”
“The inmates or the guards?”
Something unsettling glinted in Jaxen’s eyes. “Does it matter?”
It did to Tristan.
“Jaxen,” Ruby called. “Come sit with me.” She swiped the couch cushion beside her. “Tristan, bring us some pie.”
Tristan cut the rhubarb pie into equal wedges, plated three slices and grabbed some forks. He passed out the desserts.
Jaxen shoveled a big bite into his mouth. “Damn! This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted. Did you make this, Mama?”
All smiles, Ruby chuckled. “No. I can’t hold out to bake.”
“I asked Cassie to make it for you,” Tristan said.
“Cassie? Don’t remember her. S
he yours?”
“Hardly.” Tristan snorted.
“A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.” Ruby patted Jaxen’s leg. “Cassie is the Alphena-in-waiting.”
“Ah, so she’s Mason’s mate.”
“Mason is dead,” Nate said bluntly, and Tristan felt himself flinch.
Jaxen stopped chewing and swallowed. His curious gaze lighted on Tristan and then fell back to his plate. “Sorry, man. I know you two were close.”
Braced for a smart-mouthed jab, Tristan was thrown a bit off-kilter by the condolence. Maybe the hard-core incarceration had taught Jaxen to have a better perspective. At the very least, it had improved his surly attitude. Tonight, he seemed almost chipper. Then again, who wouldn’t be happy to be free of Woelfesguarde?
Nate handed his empty plate to Tristan, then leaned forward in his chair. “Jax, have you thought about what you’re going to do now that you’re home?”
“I have.” Jaxen forked the last bite of crust and held up his plate toward Tristan. “Another slice, if you don’t mind.”
Annoyance nipping his pride, Tristan took the plate. Although Jaxen flashed him a bright smile, an icy gray zapped all the blue from his eyes. It was gone in a blink, and Tristan decided he’d imagined the color change.
“I picked up some trade skills over the years,” Jaxen continued. “Thought I’d look for handyman work.”
“Why not work for me?” Nate asked.
Tristan’s first impulse was to protest. Ruby’s hopeful look silenced him.
Obviously, she had asked her brother to give Jaxen a job. Tristan couldn’t fault his father or Ruby for trying to keep Jaxen out of trouble. Besides, with his father and the construction crew looking out for Jaxen, Tristan wouldn’t have to.
“You’d actually hire me?” Jaxen’s voice held an uncharacteristic note of emotion.
“Why wouldn’t he,” Ruby said. “You’re blood-kin.”
Since his input wasn’t requested or required, Tristan quietly withdrew to the kitchen. Tuning out the discussion on Jaxen’s actual job skills, Tristan rinsed his father’s plate, hand dried it and placed the dish in the cabinet. Next, he doled out his cousin’s second piece of pie and returned to the living room.
“You’ll start a week from Monday morning. That’ll give you time to get reoriented.” Nate grinned.
“I appreciate it, Nate. Thanks.” Jaxen accepted the dessert from Tristan with a slight nod.
With nowhere to sit comfortably, Tristan stood next to the couch, close to Ruby.
“I want you to do your best.” Ruby shook her fork at Jaxen. “No cuttin’ up, and I mean it. Nate is giving you a serious job.”
“I won’t mess up this time, Mama.” Jaxen kissed her cheek. “I swear.”
For all their sakes, Tristan hoped Jaxen would make good on his promise. But he wouldn’t hold his breath.
“If you work hard and demonstrate an aptitude for the business—” Nate cleared his throat “—I’ll let you take over when I retire.”
What the hell?
Though he stood perfectly still, Tristan felt as if he’d smacked head-on into a brick wall.
“Are you kidding?” Jaxen looked genuinely happy, in contrast to the stormy emotions swelling inside Tristan.
“I never joke about my business.” It was the one thing Nathan Durrance loved more than anything. Except for his sister, Ruby. And, apparently, Jaxen.
Jaxen’s attention swung to Tristan. “Is this all right by you, cuz?”
“Of course it is,” Ruby interjected. “Tristan would rather ride around in a comfy po-leece car all day than do hard work.”
The tops of Tristan’s ears heated. Swiping a palm across his mouth, he swallowed the spew of words burning his tongue.
Jaxen set down his plate. “What happened to you becoming an architect?”
“Plans change.” Tristan’s lungs no longer seemed to process the air inside Ruby’s house. “I have to go.”
“Always rushing to leave. Family time don’t mean squat to you, does it?” Ruby’s disapproving gaze cut Tristan to the quick.
“I told you earlier, I’m on duty tonight.” Tristan paused at the door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to fix lunch.”
“Don’t bother.” Mouth scrunched, Ruby squinted at Tristan.
He gave her a curt nod and walked outside. Unfortunately, summer humidity had thickened the night air as much as the tension had indoors. Dark, threatening clouds floated across the sky, bright from a near full moon.
Damn! Why did that time of the month seem to come around faster when he wasn’t looking forward to it?
“Hey, cuz, wait up.” Jaxen leisurely descended the porch steps.
Tristan leaned against the grill of his truck.
“Hard to believe you ended up in law enforcement. Why weren’t you one of the dozen sentinels who escorted me?” Jaxen spit on the ground. “Gavin’s going a bit over-the-top, don’t you think? A dozen, really?”
“Not my call. And I wasn’t involved in your escort because I’m not your keeper, Jax.”
“No, you’re not. You’re family.” Jaxen hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, his shoulders loose and posture relaxed. “Are you okay with your dad’s decision?”
“It’s his business. He can do whatever he wants.” What irked Tristan was that his father hadn’t bothered to discuss his plans with him, who by blood rights was the heir.
“Not what I asked.” Jaxen shook his head, good-naturedly.
“Fine.” Tristan sighed. “If you’re serious about turning your life around, then I’ll be happy for you to take over my dad’s construction company when the time comes.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“But, toe a straight line or—”
“Or what?” An irritating grin spread across Jaxen’s mouth.
“I’ll make your time in Woelfesguarde seem like a picnic.”
Jaxen laughed, hard.
Tristan pushed away from the truck and stood tall. “I’m not that little kid who idolized you. I will put you down without a second thought if I think you’re going to hurt someone again.”
Jaxen sobered and fell silent.
Tristan opened the truck door and climbed inside.
“For fuck’s sake, Trist. We were kids.”
Tristan didn’t miss that Jaxen didn’t express regret over the incident.
“You getting me banished kinda makes us even. Don’t ya think?” Jaxen held the truck door so Tristan couldn’t shut it.
“Not by a fucking long shot.” Tristan yanked the door closed and rested his arm on the open window, keeping Jaxen in his line of vision. “For the record, you got yourself banished. I simply didn’t lie to give you an alibi.”
“Why don’t we forget all the stuff that happened when we were kids? I’m ready for a fresh start, how about you?” Jaxen extended his hand.
Tristan’s inner wolf prowled restlessly and his instinct warned against a truce until Jaxen proved himself.
“Come on, Tristan. Clean slate?”
“Time will tell.” He cranked the truck engine.
“Watch yourself out there.” Pregnant clouds drifted across the moon and a shadow darkened Jaxen’s face, twisting his features into a grotesque mask.
Unease coiled in the pit of Tristan’s stomach. “Always.”
Chapter 5
Butterflies darted and fluttered in Nel’s stomach as if they were auditioning for a Cirque de Soleil performance. Starting tomorrow, she would be responsible for the success or failure of the Walker’s Run Resort’s new children’s activity program.
Although Penelope confidently managed her kindergarten classes, she never volunteered to take the lead in any of her school’s events. She made a great a
ssistant, but being in charge was something she never had the confidence to attempt.
“It’s fabulous.” She gazed at the colorful paper-ring garland swooping from the ceiling and crisscrossing the room. “I couldn’t have hung it without your help. This old lady on a ladder is a Shakespearian tragedy no one wants written.”
“Nonsense.” Shane MacQuarrie stepped off the last rung and gave her a mischievous look. “You’re in your prime and quite the catch, milady.” He bowed low.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Laughing, Penelope curtsied.
No older than his early twenties, Shane was too young for her to have a romantic interest in him, but his easy manner and teasing banter had immediately put her at ease.
“Someone is in a really good mood today.” Cassie leaned against the doorway. “I haven’t actually seen you in a bad mood, but you seem more engaged.”
“The gunk from the city is sloughing off.” Penelope placed the extra construction paper on the supply shelf, returned the scissors to the plastic bin and secured the glue bottle in a drawer. “Or it could be the invigorating moonlit stroll I had Friday night.”
“How can a stroll be invigorating? A run, yeah. But a stroll?” Shane folded the ladder.
“Would you do me a favor?” Cassie looked at Shane. “The light in my office is out. I put in a call to maintenance, but they’re searching high and low for the ladder.”
“No problem.” He hoisted the missing ladder onto his shoulder.
“Thanks.” Smiling warmly, Cassie touched his arm. “The bulbs are on my desk.”
“Holler if you need me again.” He nodded toward Nel and left.
“Sweet kid.”
“You’re right, but Shane wouldn’t take that as a compliment.” Cassie glanced around the room. “Looks great in here. All set for tomorrow morning?”
“As ready as I can be.” Penelope gave one last look. “Thanks for providing the big round table. I think it will be more fun for the kids to sit in a circle and help each other rather than sitting alone at individual desks.”
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