by Holley Trent
Angel had one foot in the truck when Grant, leaning out the doorway without a coat or even having shoes on his feet, called out, “You coming back in the morning?”
“Nope,” Leo called back. “I’ll mail Pete his gift.”
Cringing, Angel shut the door. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
Leo harrumphed and leaned into the backseat to fasten Kinzy into her car seat.
Both women yipped when Grant suddenly appeared behind Leo with one hand propped against the truck roof.
She swatted at her brother and sidled around him. “You’re such a turd. Go away.”
Leo might have moved, but Grant kept his position at the back.
He was looking at Kinzy, or the seat, or Angel couldn’t tell what exactly, only that his gaze was down, and then suddenly it wasn’t, and Angel couldn’t look away.
His eyes were the color of leaves frosted with ice—green with silver streaks, or maybe the other way around. His pupils were large in the dim light.
Nostrils flaring.
Adam’s apple bobbing.
Leo reached back from the front seat and popped him on the nose with a rolled-up magazine. “Close the door. You’re letting the cold in.”
The abuse from his sister didn’t compel him to move, nor did the rumble of the truck’s engine when Arnold turned the key.
He was very still, and Angel knew because she couldn’t stop looking back. She didn’t understand what he was looking at, but some silly part of her brain thought maybe if she stared back long enough, she’d figure him out.
“Ugh, fine,” Leo said. “We’ll come back in the morning.”
Finally, he looked away. “What time?”
His voice was practically a growl, rumbling and impatient.
“I dunno,” Leo said blithely. “Maybe eight or nine. After breakfast.”
“Come earlier.”
“Uh, no. Not unless you plan on feeding us. Personally, I don’t think you’re either equipped or talented enough.”
Grant just stared at her.
“After breakfast.”
“Ma will be here after breakfast to watch Pete.”
“You’re working on Christmas?” Angel asked before she could recognize that her lips were moving. She pressed them together and locked her gaze on her knees.
“Gotta get the hay out,” he said. “Cows don’t care about holidays.”
“Oh. I guess that was a stupid question.”
“Nah, you can’t know what you don’t know, right?”
“Guess not,” she whispered. Her old alpha would have expected omniscience. She was slowly getting used to the more “mundane” requirements of her at Norseton.
“So you want us to come before Mama gets here?” Leo asked. “Why?”
“Because every damn day, she acts like she hasn’t seen me in a year, and wants to talk. If you’re here to distract her—”
“You’ll actually get outside on time,” Arnold said.
Grant grimaced. “Probably shitty of me to sound so ungrateful, given how much she helps out, but—”
“Yeah.” Leo sighed. “At least you were spared most of the chatter growing up. The girls got to hear it all.”
“What do you mean?” Angel asked.
“Oh, you know how it goes for women in wolfpacks. Be seen and not heard, and be seen as little as possible, at that. Mama always taught us girls to talk amongst ourselves and to zip our lips when we left the house.” Leo turned her head and muttered, “That’s why we all talk so much now.”
“And now, there’s a new alpha, so…the old rules don’t apply?”
“Sweetie, I don’t even know what the rules are anymore.”
“That makes two of us.”
CHAPTER THREE
Grant had never been the anxious sort, but the next morning, he found himself at the front door like a kid waiting for his first birthday party guest to arrive.
He had his hearing tuned to the back of the house for signs that Pete was stirring, and his vision pointed to the road.
“I told ’em to come early,” he muttered. “Where are they?”
Leo hadn’t even given him the courtesy of a call to let him know when they’d swing by.
“If she doesn’t beat Ma here…”
He pushed away from the doorframe, scoffing at himself.
If he had to be perfectly honest with himself, he’d have to recognize that his mother was only part of his worry. He was agitated—or the wolf in him was, anyway. He had been ever since Arnold had driven his truck off the property, and it’d taken six hours of pathetic pacing and sleeplessness for Grant to figure out why.
Settling onto the edge of the sofa, he pulled on an extra pair of socks, and then his snow boots. “Keep sleeping Pete.”
Normally, he would have been up already, but the morning was overcast and the bedroom was darker than usual. There was more snow coming, and the sky was ominous as hell.
At the sound of tires crunching over gravel, Grant hustled out to the porch, relief settling into him at the sight of a silver truck, and not that old tan thing Ma puttered around in whenever she was running errands.
“What took you so long?”
Leo had barely gotten her door open before he’d barked the words at her.
Knowing Leo, he figured she’d probably made a face, but he hadn’t been looking at her. He was looking into the backseat at Angel, who was unfastening Kinzy’s safety seat harness.
Thoughts of doe eyes and a pretty smile had kept the wolf in him howling all night.
“We’ve been up forever,” Leo said. “Took a while to find someplace open for food. Here.” She thrust a plastic bag at him. “Bagels.”
“Bagels? Where the hell from?”
“Jewish deli open in Cheyenne.” The closed door muffled Angel’s voice.
He opened it and pulled Kinzy out. “You went all the way to Cheyenne?”
“We were there, anyway,” Arnold said. “We drove to the inn last night but didn’t get rooms. You didn’t tell us Samuel’s second wife ran it.”
“Didn’t cross my mind. They’re not together anymore, anyway.”
Leo gaped. “Seriously? Who left who?”
“Donna left him. I guess she figured if you could leave, she could, too.”
“Oh my goodness, I wish I’d known. We saw her behind the glass and kept right on moving, thinking she’d be a problem.”
“Nah, if anything, she’s just tired and wants to go home, I think. She’s trying to scrape together enough money to get her and the kids to Nevada.”
“Samuel let her keep them? I’m shocked, especially after the hard time he gave me when I ran with Kinzy.”
“Samuel didn’t let her do shit.” Grant shrugged. “He just can’t get close enough to do anything to ’em, is all. I’ve been looking out for her a little, making sure Samuel and the knuckle-draggers in his inner circle don’t bug her.”
“That’s nice of you,” Angel said.
“Think so? A few folks in town say it’s a loser move on my part.”
But it was the right thing, and Grant knew it. He wasn’t in the business of breaking up families, but he knew Samuel was bad news. Samuel treated his wives like they were worth less than steer shit, and treated the kids even worse. If he was going to be an alpha, Grant was going to be one with principles.
He walked around to the other side of the truck, tucked his hand through the handles in the bagel bag, and reached up for Angel’s arm. She probably could have used the running board to hop down, but he did have a few good manners.
And he just wanted to touch her. He needed to convince the wolf in him that she’d been real and not some realistic hallucination.
She stared at his arm, brow furrowed, lips pursed, and he realized what must have been coursing through her brain. She felt like she didn’t have a choice. Alphas didn’t offer; they took. He didn’t want her to think her compliance was mandatory. Even if he’d been her alpha, it wouldn’t have been.<
br />
“Ground’s far down,” he said. “Will you let me help?”
“You’re holding Kinzy. I can make my way down.”
“She doesn’t weigh much, and I’ve got two arms.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Want to.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked from the ground briefly to him and back to the ground again. Then, slowly, she looped her arm around his elbow and slid to the edge of the seat.
“Down you go.”
She’d barely gotten out the word “Thank” when the sound of a familiar truck engine echoed in the crisp air.
He closed his eyes, and then sighed so long, icicles could have formed on his beard.
Ma.
“What the heck is that thing?” Arnold asked.
“Ma wouldn’t like to be called a thing,” Grant said.
Arnold snorted, and then shouted “Ow!” right after a dull thud sounded—likely Leo smacking his arm.
“Don’t encourage him, Arnold.”
“You smiled at it, too. Don’t act like I’m the only one who thought he was funny.”
“That wasn’t a smile. It was a grimace.”
“If you say so, precious. But really, the joke was funny.”
Angel unhanded Grant’s arm.
Growling, Grant opened his eyes in time to see Arnold crook his thumb toward the truck that was making its way up the driveway. “Seriously, what the hell is that?”
“Ma’s truck.”
Leo squinted toward the road. “She’s driving? When’d she get a license?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
“And so she’s just… You know what? Never mind. Don’t tell me.” Leo took Kinzy and moved toward the approaching pickup. Arnold followed.
After a few seconds, Angel started after them, and on a reflex, Grant fisted the back of her coat.
She froze.
He let go. “Sorry.”
The hell am I doing, grabbing a lady like that?
“Did you need something?” she asked softly, back still turned.
“No. I didn’t need anything. Sorry. Need to go check on Pete.”
She turned quickly. “Do you want me to? So you can go do your—haying, or whatever it’s called?”
“Do you know what to do?”
She canted her head. Maybe he didn’t know her too well, but he knew an ”Are you stupid?” expression when he saw one.
Maybe he was a little stupid.
“That’s what you do, huh? Take care of other folks’ kids?”
“Might as well, since I can’t have any.” She started walking.
“Why not?”
When she faltered, he thunked his palm to his forehead, muttered, “Don’t answer that,” and hightailed it toward the barn.
Yep. I’m stupid. He knew better than to ask personal shit like that. He sure didn’t like when people interrogated him about mates, or any other aspect of his personal life, for that matter. People needed to mind their own damn business.
“Just…wolf stuff,” she called after him.
He stopped. Then, curious though he was, he started walking again.
The wolf in him wanted to know more. The wolf in him might have cared a little too much, and Grant didn’t like that. It was one thing to take a personal interest in the young women and widows in the pack when nobody else did, but Angel wasn’t in his pack, and he didn’t know her well enough to ask such personal questions.
Is she all right? Why can’t she have children?
He allowed himself one glance over his shoulder and found her still standing in place in the lightly falling snow, staring at the ground.
He wanted to run back and give her a little shake—wanted to tell her, “Hey, don’t worry about the shit I say,” but his feet kept him moving toward the barn.
The wolf inside of him howled in emphatic protest.
“Settle down, motherfucker. I hear you.”
Grant hadn’t wanted a woman, but the wolf had picked one, anyway.
Wasn’t like he could say no.
Normally, wolves were paired off by their alpha, and their inner beasts didn’t bother speaking up because it didn’t matter if they did.
There hadn’t been a natural match in Wolverton Pack in at least thirty years, and that last couple had been chased out by the old alpha for being aberrations.
Apparently, Grant was one, too, and his wolf had things to say. He wanted the sweet wolf, and that was that.
Now what?
___
Grant was pretty sure he’d gotten the hay out and that the cattle’s water tank heaters had been working properly when he’d checked them, but he damn sure couldn’t remember anything after plopping his ass onto the seat of his tractor.
It was as if his mind didn’t click back on until he’d parked the machine safely in the barn, and even then, he sat staring at the windshield for a good five minutes, wondering, What the fuck?
And then the wolf goddess answered. He’d nearly pissed his pants.
The wolf goddess was a mysterious lady. No one ever saw her anymore, but, supposedly, she whispered to her chosen ones and steered them on the path of how they should lead, and how they should love.
The Norseton alpha had a special hotline to her, where she told him which wolves should pair off and whether or not the ones who already had were good matches. She talked to Adam, because Adam listened. Adam was a good man—strong and wise. He was a born alpha, just like his son and nephew.
Grant was just a guy who’d been in the right place at the right time, and whose mother had volunteered him for a job he’d never aspired to having. But there that voice had been, clear as day, and the wolf in him had known instinctually who was speaking.
He pulled the key out of the tractor’s ignition and hopped down. His watch read 10:00. The morning was already nearly gone. The snow had piled up to his shins while he was out, and it was starting to come down harder. Ma must have felt the storm in her bones and left, because her truck was gone. So was Arnold’s.
Grant quickened his pace to a jog, and at the porch steps called out, “Angel?”
She was at the door with Pete in her arms before he could pull it open.
He put a hand over his thrashing heart and took a breath. “Shit, let me in on the plan next time.”
She stepped back as he pulled the storm door open. “What’s wrong?”
“Trucks were gone. I thought everyone had left.”
“You think we’d leave Pete here on his own?”
“I didn’t do much thinking, Angel. Mostly, I just reacted.” He stepped inside, kissed Pete on the top of his head, and stomped the snow off his boots. “Left enough hay about, I hope, to get through the next couple of days. Tractor’s got okay treads, and I was able to move around pretty good, but I still hate being out in the snow.”
He heeled off his boots and tossed his knit hat toward the rack.
“Not used to it?” she asked.
“Oh, I am. Just don’t like it so much when I’m on two legs. When I’m in my wolf form, I don’t mind so much.” He bent to roll up his soggy cuffs. “Got more fur then.”
“I don’t know what that’s like. I asked my mother if she gets hot when she shapeshifts, and she looked at me funny.”
“That’s right. You can’t shift yet.”
Or rather, she shouldn’t have been able to. Lady wolves couldn’t shift until their mates—or maybe just any male—bit them. There was a certain enzyme cocktail required to jumpstart the ability, and most men were happy enough to provide it when they got in a certain mood.
Grant had never thought he’d be in that mood, and he wasn’t. Not yet. Not for lack of interest, though. He was too damned cold and tired.
She turned on the heel of her socked foot and reflexively, yet again, he grabbed her by the back of her shirt.
He dropped his hand. “Sorry.”
“No, I am. I know better than to turn my back to an alpha wolf.”
“Oh, hell, woman. It’s not because I’m alpha. I just…wasn’t done with ya.”
She turned back around. Her lips were pressed together tightly and gaze somewhere in the general vicinity of his chest.
He had one mind to slump a bit to make her look into his eyes.
“I was going to put Pete down for a nap before lunch. Your mother said he normally dozes off by around ten-fifteen.”
“When’d she leave?”
“Mmm, about an hour ago. She thought the snow was going to get bad, and she wanted to get home to start Christmas dinner early.”
“Leo and Arnold went with her?”
“Yeah. They figured dinner would get on the table faster if they helped. They’re watching the weather, so if we need to head south before the snow gets too heavy, they can come get me. Arnold doesn’t want to be on the interstate if there’s accumulation.”
“And I guess he doesn’t want to be snowed in here for a couple of days, either.”
She shook her head. “He has to be at work tomorrow night.”
“And what about you?”
“Tess and her family went east for the holidays. I’m not due back in until the second of January.” She turned again, and Grant managed not to grab her like he was an animal.
Just barely, though, and only because she’d moved too quickly.
Get a grip, wolf.
Minutes later, she returned with empty arms and her phone in her hand. “I’ll just call Leo and let her know you’re back.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“She told me to let her know.”
“So she could pick you up?”
“Yeah, in case we have to—”
“Right.” He blew a raspberry and rolled his eyes. “In case you have to make a quick retreat south.”
She smiled—nervously, seemingly—and backed toward the sofa with her phone to her ear.
He was making her nervous, that was obvious. Normally, he was a little more laidback—a little more suave—but her presence had him off-kilter in a way he couldn’t figure out how to compensate for.
“Not even sure if the call is connecting,” she said in an undertone, perhaps not intending for him to hear at all. “I can’t hear anything. No clicks, nothing.”
“Reception is bad way out here, even when the weather is optimal. I use the landline.”
