In a few more minutes, dinner was ready. He’d baked potatoes in addition to grilling burgers and asparagus, and he was decent enough in the kitchen that all the food was ready at the same time. The toppings offered were impressive. She smothered her potato in butter and cheese; he did the same with his, then topped it with bacon bits and sour cream. His three double burgers were adorned like some kind of restaurant special, while April kept her single patty basic with mayonnaise and relish. Then, plates loaded, they sat across from each other at his dining table.
The chairs were an assortment. One variety was large enough for wolves, the other small enough for humans. The table looked unusually solid and heavy, long enough for at least ten adults. He lived alone, slept alone, had no guestroom; but his table was capable of hosting comfortable dinners.
“Can I ask you about Saturday? The pack gathering?”
“Of course.”
“How many are in your pack?”
“Wolves, eleven. Total persons, twenty-three and one on the way.”
April blinked. “I thought you’d have to think about it, count on your fingers or something.”
A furrow formed between his eyes. “They’re my pack.”
She would lay money that, if Drew’s pack numbered that high, he wouldn’t hold the count in his head at all times.
“Are there games?” She hadn’t planned to ask, but the words escaped along with a shudder.
“Yes,” he said with a tilt of his head.
“What—what sorts of games?”
“Lawn darts. Volleyball. Corn hole.”
April’s shoulders relaxed, and a deep breath filled her chest. “Really?”
“What were you expecting?”
“Um…not that.”
He nodded, held her gaze for a moment, and then began to eat. After a few minutes she understood that he would let her eat in silence, if she wished to. But she didn’t.
“One on the way?” she said.
A quiet light entered his eyes. “We’ll be twenty-four strong when the pup’s born in a few months.”
“Will it be a wolf?”
“If it’s a girl, not impossible but not likely. If it’s a boy, the chance is about seventy percent, but he won’t know until he’s thirteen and begins changing at the full moon.”
“I imagine a wolf always hopes for a son then.”
“Aaron doesn’t seem to care. They’re both eager new parents.”
“You sound eager yourself.” A smile found her from deep inside when he rumbled from his chest, a sound of clear happiness.
“They’re good friends of mine, very happy together,” he said. “And it means a lot to a child, to be born in safety and love. This one will have both. From its parents and from all the pack.”
His expression remained placid; he continued eating. Nothing indicated an unspoken other side to his words, yet April felt it in the room with them. She set her fork down and watched him until he looked up, his brows gathered.
“What is it?” he said.
“I don’t know. I could be wrong. But I don’t think you were born in safety and love, Malachi.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked away from her, toward the French doors that opened onto a small patio. “I don’t speak about it.”
“Ever?”
