“You're literally standing between Michael and the exit.” Evan had appeared from somewhere, arms crossed, wearing an expression I recognized from Nate when he was about to be insufferable. “That's territorial behavior. We talked about this.”
“We have never talked about this.”
“We talked about it when you did it to the delivery driver last month. And the health inspector. And that tourist who asked for directions.”
“The tourist was suspicious.”
“She was seventy-three and looking for the café.”
One of the workers—the same guy who'd asked about the Henderson order—cupped his hands around his mouth. “Just ask him to dinner already, boss!”
“Ramon, you're on inventory duty for the rest of the week.”
“Worth it!”
Laughter rippled through the mill floor. Daniel looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. I probably should have felt bad for him.
I didn't.
“So,” I said, trying very hard to keep my voice steady. “Scenting.”
“It's not—” Daniel scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving a smear of sawdust across his cheek. “Wolves have instincts. Protective instincts. When someone new enters pack-adjacent space, there's a natural tendency to... assess. Evaluate. Make sure they're not a threat.”
“By hovering three inches behind them for an hour?”
“It hasn't been an hour.”
“It's been an hour and twelve minutes,” Evan supplied helpfully. “I timed it.”
“Don't you have work to do?”
“This is way more entertaining.” Evan's grin was shark-like. “Please, continue. I want to hear more about how you're definitely not scenting Nate's dad like a lovesick teenager.”
“I am not lovesick. I am not a teenager. And I am definitely not—” Daniel stopped, seemed to realize he was digging himself deeper with every word. “This conversation is over.”
“Is it though?” I asked.
Daniel's eyes met mine. Something flickered there—frustration, embarrassment, and underneath it all, something warmer that he was trying very hard to pretend didn't exist.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “It is.”
He turned and walked toward the office stairs with as much dignity as a man covered in sawdust and humiliation could muster. Which, admittedly, wasn't much.
Behind us, someone started a slow clap. Someone else wolf-whistled. Evan was laughing so hard he had to brace himself against a support beam.
“Is he always like this?” I asked.
“Only when he likes someone.” Evan wiped his eyes, still grinning. “Which, for the record, hasn't happened in a decade. So congratulations. You broke the Alpha.”
I watched Daniel disappear up the stairs, shoulders stiff, ears red.
Something warm and complicated settled in my chest. Something I wasn't ready to examine too closely.
“I should probably go apologize,” I said.
“Probably.” Evan's expression softened slightly. “But Michael? Don't apologize too much. He needs someone who calls him on his bullshit. It's good for him.”
I climbed the stairs to the office, leaving the laughter and wolf-whistles behind. Daniel stood at the window, back to the door, radiating embarrassment so strongly I could practically feel it from across the room.
