We’d let the dogs outside, and they stuck to my side and behind me like glue. I’m pretty sure they felt the energy in the air from the earlier encounter, and they’re on guard duty.
The young man who came with Liz is her pastry chef from Cuppa, Nathaniel. He’s a shy, but kind Beta. Tall with mousy light brown hair and honey-colored eyes. He’d thanked all of us for letting him tag along when Liz burst out laughing.
“We’re party-crashers! We just showed up.”
“You’re always welcome.” I had wanted to be reassuring, not only to let them know we’re all friends here, but also because Nathaniel looked horrified to learn that.
Jasper leans around the corner of the table between us. “How are you holding up?”
I grin at him and sip my beer. “Much better now. Having everyone here with us is really nice.”
He grips my free hand and squeezes. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so warm and fuzzy, to be honest.”
I giggle, and he pulls the back of my hand to his lips, his gray eyes grow hooded.
“Just wait until everyone leaves. Your Alphas are going to make you forget all about what happened today.”
It’s with a renewed thrill in my bones that I look out at all our friends, laughing and smiling, chatting animatedly, that I know for certain, this is where I’m meant to be.
Right here, with my friends, my animals, my pack.
And maybe, just maybe, with Uncle Jim smiling down on us all.
Epilogue
One Year Later…
“Careful. Richie likes to bite.”
Of course he does.
It’s been about three weeks since we had a huge intake of animals, some of them due to their owner passing and them being left to us in that owner’s trust, and the rest saved from a small shelter about fifty miles away that was forced to shut down.
The “Richie” in question is one of six horses we took in from Jasper’s former sponsor, who paid for the equine expansion on the property. And he’s a spoiled brat. And pushy.
But, boy, is he handsome with his all-black coat, mane, and tail.
The other five horses have been sweet, beautiful animals, and they’ve gotten along great with Pie and Gator.
Oh, and the three alpacas we now have.
I give Ezra’s back another death glare that he doesn’t see.
I swear that he went out of his way to get us some alpacas. Like, where do you even find alpacas in need of rescue? It’s like he joked about it and manifested them.
I need a little of that energy myself.
As I scratch the top of Gator’s fuzzy head, he mewls with joy, getting the attention of an all-white alpaca named Molly. She comes a bit closer to the two of us, still watching carefully for any wrong moves. When I very slowly extend my arm to her, palm up, Molly backs away a few steps.
Ezra comes up beside me and places a slice of pear in my hand, and this little fluffy creature’s eyes light up before she dives in like a thief in the night, taking a pear and trotting off with her prize.
“Here.” He hands me a small basket with fruits and vegetables and a small knife.
Gator, my little savior, gets his pick of the basket—our tradition now—leaning in for a carrot, before I start handing out fruit and veggie treats to the other animals.
Except Richie.
Not that I don’t want to give him one, it’s that he keeps dashing off in the opposite direction when I close in. I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy. Even if he is spoiled.
