Bear chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
After sipping water, Joy set down her glass. “Lucian took inventory of all your titles and created a spreadsheet. He sent it over, and between Milly and Salem, we’ve been able to accurately price many of the books.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “I should probably get back to the store now.”
“No rush.” Tak filled a flour tortilla with beef strips. “The longer you stay gone, the more this one will decorate it.”
Melody leaned into view, her pink hair tied back in a ponytail. “Sorry. I might have painted the back wall. Possibly the bathroom. Nothing extreme. It just needed a fresh coat.”
“We had to pry her away from the counter,” Hope said with amusement in her voice. “Mel was eager to express herself all over your store, so we had to drag her away.”
“Kicking and screaming,” Lakota added.
“We opened the back door and used fans to pull out the fumes,” Joy assured me. “Your books still smell like books.”
Mercy tapped my plate. “Get yourself something to eat.”
I glanced around. “Would it be all right if I had the vegetables by themselves? Maybe a strip of meat to go with it. Just a small one is fine.”
A few of the men flicked glances at each other, but I wasn’tsure why.
“You don’t have to ask,” Mercy said. “Get whatever you want.”
I worried my lip. I’d spent my whole life cooking meals for my father and sticking to routine. But the past couple of years had been spent having someone dictate what I could eat, constantly reminding me that I was too greedy. This pack had gone out of their way to accommodate me and help with the bookstore, so I didn’t want to make a bad impression.
Tak finished chewing his bite. “Tigers hunt alone. Did you know that? In the wild, they rarely share their food. Wolves do. Our animals usually eat based on hierarchy, but at my table, no one goes hungry.”
Robyn stood and put three tortillas on my plate with a pair of tongs.
“Don’t do that,” Archer complained. “Let her decide what she wants.”
Robyn grimaced. “Sorry about that.” She put the tortillas back into the warming bowl and sat down.
I couldn’t be certain if they sensed my discomfort, but they continued their conversations. When I no longer felt the spotlight on me, I filled a tortilla with peppers and chicken. Listening to their banter and sitting among them made me grateful to have friends like these, even though they were wolves who could shift at any moment and rip me apart. That’s what had me on edge. Noah had always reminded me how wolves were savages, but maybe he had inserted that fear so I wouldn’t trust anyone but him.
Embraced by the glow of candlelight, I listened to them recount hilarious stories about Virgil getting sprayed by a skunk when they first arrived here and a trip Bear and Mercy took where they got lost on the drive home and wound up in Louisiana.
They kept me wildly entertained, and in quiet moments,some of the mated couples shared private whispers and loving glances. That distracted me more than anything.
What’s normal? What’s not? Do they ever fight?
I honestly couldn’t recall the last time Noah had held my hand. His public displays of affection were calculated but his private ones nonexistent. Not unless we were having sex, but even then, he wouldn’t touch me afterward.
Aside from the couples, I took notice of Archer. He was affable and charming with an infectious laugh. Everyone liked him, which left me wondering what warning signs I’d missed with Noah in the early days.
Everything had come on so subtly. Noah ordered my food, which I thought was a romantic gesture. He decided on the grocery list and wanted me eating healthy, which made sense. Then he started buying me clothes that were more conservative than I liked and criticizing anything short, tight, or revealing.
He rebuked me if I talked too loudly in public, which rarely occurred. Men never hit on me in his presence, but if any said a kind word, Noah made me feel guilty about it. In the second year of our relationship, he started taking me out less and less. All my decisions were questioned, and he always found a way to disagree with them. He never asked if I was in the mood for sex and certainly never stopped if I told him I wasn’t.
Looking around the room, I saw nothing but happy couples. How did they know it was right? How did they know they weren’t getting involved with a lunatic who might one day murder them?
After everyone finished eating, they remained at the table, carrying on about future plans and new design ideas for their boutique.
Are all packs like this? Supportive, compassionate, and trusting?While they had unique personalities, no one squabbled or talked negatively about other Breeds. They didn’t put each other down.They didn’t shame their mate for eating another helping. They didn’t talk over each other to hear their own voice.
I wish I was a wolf.
As people got up to leave, I watched, curious what their rules were, but they had none. Some took their plates, others left them. Tak—the Packmaster—even collected dirty dishes.
