“I'm not easy to tease. You're just remarkably persistent.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
Daniel shook his head, but I caught the slight curve of his lips. “You're impossible.”
“I prefer 'charmingly tenacious.'”
“Nobody prefers that.”
“I do. Just now. I decided.”
He actually laughed. Short, surprised, like it escaped before he could catch it. The sound did something warm to my chest that I chose not to examine too closely.
We finished the cookies in comfortable silence, watching the light shift across the clearing. The pool reflected the changing sky, gold bleeding into amber bleeding into the first hints of purple. It was peaceful in a way I hadn't felt in months. Maybe longer.
I stretched my legs out, crossed my ankles. “What do you do for fun? When you're not being the Alpha, dealing with pack politics, handling territorial disputes. What does Daniel Callahan do just for himself?”
He considered the question longer than I expected. “I'm not sure I remember.”
“That's depressing.”
“It's honest.” He picked up a pebble, turned it over in his fingers. “When Claire was alive, we used to take trips. Nothing fancy, just driving until we found somewhere interesting. She'd make me stop at every roadside attraction, no matter how ridiculous. World's largest ball of twine. Mystery spots that were obviously just optical illusions. She collected refrigerator magnets from every place we visited.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It was.” His voice was soft but not sad. Just remembering. “After she died, I stopped. Told myself I didn't have time, that the pack needed me here. But really I just couldn't imagine doing it without her.”
“I get that.” I watched the last of the sunlight paint the stones gold. “Anna and I had a thing about Sunday mornings. Pancakes, terrible coffee, the crossword puzzle. She'd do the words and I'd pretend to help while actually just watching her think. After she died, I couldn't even look at a newspaper for months.”
“Does it get easier?”
I glanced at him. “Some days are still hard. But some days I can talk about her and it doesn't feel like drowning.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “That's good. That's something to work toward.”
“We’ll get there.”
“Maybe.” He tossed the pebble into the pool, watched the ripples spread outward. “Thank you. For asking. Most people either avoid the subject entirely or want to have deep emotional conversations I'm not ready for.”
“Hence why you're out here with me instead of dealing with pack business?”
“Hence why I agreed when you kidnapped me from my office, yes.”
“See? I'm providing a valuable service.”
“You're providing something,” he said dryly. “I'm not sure valuable is the word.”
“Rude.”
“Honest.”
I threw a cookie crumb at him. He caught it without looking, which was both impressive and annoying.
We stayed until the light was nearly gone, talking about nothing and everything. Daniel's favorite books (historicalfiction and, embarrassingly, romance novels that he made me swear not to tell anyone about). My worst client stories (the fish tank kitchen was only the beginning). The names of stars his mother had taught him and the constellations Anna used to point out to Nate when he was small.
It felt easy. Natural. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of weeks.
“We should head back,” Daniel said eventually, standing and brushing off his jeans. “Before it gets too dark for you to navigate the trail.”
