Claws & Crochet

Part 56

WARNER

When Zoey drops me back off at work after lunch, I'm smiling. An hour of eating and getting her to laugh is a good way to spend my break.

But my happiness evaporates the second I see Ross's scowl across the work site. It's aimed at Zoey's bumper.

If Ross were a human guy, he'd probably keep his anger to himself, maybe throw out some insulting comments the next time he crosses paths with Zoey.

But Ross isn't human. He's wolf. And what's more, he's an asshole.

From his angry expression, he's still smarting from Zoey's put down.

That means next time the two of them are in the same room, things could get a lot worse than some harsh words.

Werewolves hold grudges. I've seen it plenty of times over my life.

Most often it's something small, like how Tanya never misses a chance to stick a mocking note on the back of Trent, the guy who harassed Isaac in middle school for being scrawny. To this day, half the time I cross paths with Trent in town, he's got a yellow sticky note on his back that says he's dense or wears lacy panties.

Annoying, but harmless.

Moose, owner of The Rabbit Hole, heard one of the pack members complaining about the selection of beers he had on tap. It's been six months and the bartender still won't serve the guy anything other than water.

Hilarious, but still harmless.

Courtney had a different experience. Twin brothers Jordan and Anthony remind me a lot of Ross. Young wolves that see their powers as proof they're badass. One of them, maybe both, was interested in Courtney. I wasn't there when she turned them down, but whatever she said made it clear there was zero chance. Instead of accepting her decision and moving on, the brothers took the rejection as a personal offense.

For weeks, they bad mouthed her to her face and behind her back. Never within earshot of Roderick, though. He would've shut them up fast. One night I almost went after them, but Courtney stopped me. She claimed they weren't worth it, laughing with her usual don't-give-a-fuck attitude.

That only seemed to piss them off more.

Then, one night, the pair followed Courtney out of the bar. A hunter herself, she sensed their intentions. She could've called for help, but she later told me that she was tired of their shit and ready to put an end to it. With a few years on the twins, Courtney could shift faster than either. She did, and in wolf form my friend beat the shit out of the pair. When some of the pack finally picked up on the commotion and went to check on the noise, they found the men out cold and Courtney with a bloody muzzle.

No permanent damage was done, but now Jordan and Anthony drop their eyes whenever she enters the room.

Because violence is the warning certain wolves need.

Maybe I should have told Zoey not to speak up like that against other werewolves. But I hate the idea of trying to stifle her fire. And I hate even more that one of my pack members made her uncomfortable. The woman who waltzed into a biker bar with a bag full of crafts is more badass than the piece of shit who hasn't learned what no means.

The memory of him stalking toward her, as if she were something to be hunted, has my wolf growling, and the sound spills out of my chest.

All the workers on the build site pause. Uncle Mason employs wolves only, so they're all pack members. Every one of them knows me.

And barely any have seen me get angry about anything. I'm sure the sound of my rage is a shock to all.

When they all freeze in their work, Ross finally looks to me. From the smirk on his face, I know he doesn't take me seriously.

Why should he?

Roderick is the pack leader, exuding strength and discipline. My mom is second strongest in the pack, our beta. Then there's uncle Mason, quiet and dangerous. But I'm the easy-going member of the family. The guy with a smile and a joke. I don't get into it with people.

Because I've never needed to.

But if Ross's actions go unchecked, Zoey will be in danger. He'll think he has a right to enact retribution.

I could get Roderick to lay down an edict. But I want to handle this. When it comes to Zoey's relationship to the pack, I'm her protector.

And Ross threatens what's mine.

I approach him, my movements smooth and powerful, imbued as they are with the strength of my wolf that begs to be let free. All to put this piece of shit in his place.

"That bitch piss you off too, Jameson?" Ross throws out when I'm only a few steps away. "If you won't keep her on a leash, I will."

It's all I can do to stop myself from attacking him immediately. Instead, I let a snarl tear from my throat. When I speak, the word comes out deep, steeped in the magic of the pack.

"Challenge."

He steps back, shocked. "What?"

I don't need to repeat myself. Everyone here heard.

Uncle Mason steps up behind me, lending his authority to the situation. "You have been challenged. Name the time and place."

"This is ridiculous." Ross glances around at everyone nearby, as if searching for support. Someone to laugh with him. No one does. "She's just a human."

"Challenge." I growl.

"Fine." He throws his hands up, pretending exasperation when I can tell I've rattled him. "Tonight. In the woods behind The Rabbit Hole." With that he stalks off to the other end of the work site.

For the rest of my shift, I keep my distance. Not that it does anything to lessen my anger. I'm hefting double the load any human man could handle when a voice cuts through my angry haze.

"Maybe we should get you mad more often. Never seen you work so hard." My uncle says, appearing behind me without a sound. He's good at that. Has the creeping-up-unexpectedly-on-people skill down perfect.

Luckily, I'm used to it, so I don't do more than flinch.

"If you think insulting Zoey is going to get you a better worker, you'll find yourself a man short in the future."

I know my ease at mingling with the human population in the town is not the norm for most members of the pack, but you'd think they could at least be civil.

"You like her. The Gunner girl."

I turn to give Mason my full attention. Something in his voice gave away that this might not be a casual conversation.

"Yeah. I do. She's . . ." I trail off. But not because I don't have any words to describe her.

I have too many.

Strong, funny, sweet, creative, odd, beautiful, brave, sexy—

The list goes on, but I think my uncle would wander off after a certain amount of adjectives. Before I can figure out how to end the sentence, Mason is already nodding in a distracted way. He stares over my shoulder.

"I knew her mother. Selena. She was—" he waves his hand to indicate all the descriptors I didn't list, but as though he read them in my pause "—too."

It shouldn't surprise me that my family knew Zoey's. Pine Falls isn't big, and apparently Selena Gunner spent eighteen years of her life here.

But from what Mason just said, I'm not sure 'knew' is a strong enough word to describe whatever relationship they had.

"Did you two . . . date?"

Hell, this is weird. My father died when I was young, so Mason took on that role. We don't really talk about women. Especially not the mother of the girl I'm falling for.

He offers me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "She left." He shrugs and walks away.

Fuck.

I think Selena Gunner broke my uncle's heart.