Tom looked at Bryce as the back door banged behind them. “Karl Griffin?” he ventured. “Should I know that name?”
Bryce shrugged, still watching the door. “Beats me.” He sounded honest. And curious.
Tom reached for his mug again, then hesitated. “Guess I should…”
He trailed off, not sure what came next. Professionally, he should go back to town, prep for tomorrow. Personally, what he was thinking about—what he hadn’t been able tostopthinking about—had nothing to do with the Council and everything to do with how Bryce had looked earlier. Sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, his shirt riding up as he’d bent to pick up the lumber, muscles smooth and strong under skin that Tom had ached to touch.
“You staying for dinner?” Bryce asked. The words were casual, almost lazy. But his fingers were tight around his mug, and there was nothing casual in the way he was looking at Tom.
Tom didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he said. The air between them shifted, subtle but unmistakable. Like a door unlocking. “If that’s okay.”
A grin spread across Bryce’s face—satisfied, with more than a hint of invitation. “Course it is.”
Tom looked down at his coffee, trying not to let the smile crack too wide across his face. Tomorrow, the councilors would arrive, and he’d need to beon.But for now? For now, there were hours ahead of him with no commitments, and Bryce Reynolds was watching him like the evening might hold more than dinner.
Chapter Fourteen
TOM
Dinner had come and gone, a comfortable evening of warmth and chatter. The atmosphere had been relaxed, the conversation easy. Jesse wasn’t present though. Tom had scarcely seen him since that first visit, not even in passing.
It was starting to feel deliberate. Not hostile, exactly, but careful. Maybe Jesse didn’t want to spend time with someone whose job was to report back to the Council. Or maybe he was simply making the most of his last days of freedom before the eyes of the world turned his way.
Now, the sun had slipped behind the hills, and dusk was deepening by the moment. Light spilling through the kitchen window behind him glowed yellow, and moths fluttered against the glass.
Tom stood at the railing with a bottle of beer in one hand, letting the breeze skim over his skin. Somewhere out in the dusk,one of the goats made a complaining sound, followed by a soft clatter and a low laugh that sounded like Tristan.
Behind him, the screen door creaked open and Bryce stepped out, holding two fresh beers. He handed one over without a word and leaned on the railing beside him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and it felt comfortable. Right.
“They’ll be here tomorrow,” Bryce said at last, voice low.
Tom nodded. “Yeah.”
“How do you think it’ll go?”
Tom considered. “There are councilors with very different goals and only one Jesse. It could get combative.” He shot a sideways glance at Bryce. “All couched in diplomatic terms, of course, that to the uninitiated will sound as if the councilors are on exactly the same page, just using different wording.”
Bryce made a small sound of acknowledgment. “Yeah.” He paused an instant before asking, “You’ll be straight with him? If it comes to it?”
Tom turned his head. Bryce’s expression was unreadable in the dusk, but his jaw was tight.
“Yes,” Tom said. “He deserves that.”
The response seemed to ease something in Bryce. He nodded, took a pull from his beer, and breathed out slowly.
“Long day,” he said. “Long few weeks, actually.”
Tom realized that in his attempt to understand the dynamics of the pack as Steadman had required, there was one question he hadn’t explored. “Must have been a hell of a shock, finding out your new pack member was an Argent.”
Bryce huffed a laugh. “You could say that. And Jesse—he didn’t have a clue.”
“Wait, what?” Tom felt his jaw actually drop, which was something he thought only happened in cartoons. “How could he not know?”
He’d been so careful not to ask the questions he was longing to ask, most of all—where the hell Jesse came from. Those questions were Steadman’s province, and she’d want to weigh the responses for truthfulness herself. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t curious as hell.
“As to that,” Bryce said. “Not my story to tell.”
