Wrecker’s eyes lit up. “Well now. Maybe the day’s not a total loss.”
“So, you gonna tell us anything else? What’s her story? Is she single like we heard?”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I didn’t shy away from the question. “Her name’s Aspen. She’s from Georgia. Lost her mom, moved out here to start fresh.” I kept my voice casual, like it wasn’t the most important fact in my life at the moment. “And she’s different.”
Arsenal raised an eyebrow. “Different how? She a shifter?”
“Nope,” I said. “She’s definitely a witch. From one of the old Southern covens. But she’s not like any witch I’ve ever come across. Said her magic never came in right. Swears she doesn’t have any magical abilities.”
Bronc’s eyes narrowed, and for a second I thought he’d shut me down right there. Instead, he asked, “She left her coven? She running from something?”
I considered my answer and nodded. “Her coven itself sounds like. I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot with her, so she wasn’t totally forthcoming. She just mentioned that as her mother was dying; she told her she’d bought her that bakery.Then told her to run. So she ran. But Aspen seemed afraid of her coven.”
Gunner’s hand hovered over his coffee mug. “So we’re harboring a fugitive?”
“Didn’t say that. Don’t know that. Right now, she just seems like a girl trying to survive. And get this, her mother told her if she got into any trouble, to seek out the Iron Valor Pack, that she could trust us.”
A silence fell—heavy, but not dangerous. The men, thinking. Arsenal finally broke it. “Well, if she can make a good carrot cake Gunner might marry her himself.”
Wrecker hooted. “Might have his pups, too.”
Gunner ignored them, but his smile was real.
Bronc leaned back, weighing his words. “You trust her?”
“Too soon to know,” I said, and meant it. “She got damn offended when I accused her of infusing her cakes with magic to make them taste so good, though. She seemed so innocent. I don’t think the girl has ever been on her own.”
Bronc nodded, just once. “Well, you know the deal. We protect our own. If she brings trouble to this door—”
“All due respect, Alpha, every woman any of us has brought in around here seems to have had a bucket of trouble in tow.” I told him.
“Well, hell,” he breathed out on a heavy sigh. “I can’t argue with that. Guess they’ve all been worth the trouble they’ve hauled in.”
Nobody dared disagree with him.
The meeting rolled on, talk shifting to logistics for the ceremony, how many people to expect, who was on perimeter duty the night of the event. I took notes, and thought of any details we might be missing.
Wrecker nudged me under the table. “You gonna bring her to the party?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. If she doesn’t hate me.”
He busted out laughing. “Like anybody could hate you, JT.”
“I was an ass to her. I don’t know what happened.” I ran my hand through my beard.
Doc spoke up. “Maybe you felt a connection, and it scared you. Honestly, Papa, you’re used to keeping people, especially women, at arm’s length. Her being a witch was a good excuse to push her away.”
It was Bronc’s turn to chime in. “He’s right, Papa. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be cautious. But you also shouldn’t close yourself off either.”
“Shit, when did y’all suddenly become Dr. Phil?” Everyone around the table laughed. But I knew they were right.
The meeting broke up soon after, men filing out in twos and threes, talking about bike repairs and security assignments and who’d pay up at poker night. I hung back, watching Bronc as he lingered by the window, arms folded, deep in thought.
I waited until the room was empty before approaching him. He didn’t turn until I spoke.
“You worried about me, boss?”
He kept his eyes on the frost outside. “Man, I just want you to find your happiness.”
