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“I asked if you remembered how excited we used to be to come watch the puppet shows,” Roark said. “Only now I think that’s exactly what you were doing.”
“It was,” Rusty said, “and thinking about our kids in costumes next Halloween.”
“We can launch it from my place,” Stella offered. “It’s right in the middle of town.”
“Perfect,” Rusty said, flashing her a grin.
He dialed in after that, enjoying this time with family, as childhood stories were recounted and laughed about as new information was revealed by some of the culprits. Meredith finally learned which of her offspring was responsible for the lemon-meringue pie that had vanished from her refrigerator one afternoon. Roark’s uncle Atkins was the culprit and sheepishly promised to bring his mama a pie from the bakery the first chance he got. The lodge was full of family circles sharing similar stories, widening as the night went on, as new arrivals came and extended family members joined them.
The strength of Comet Lake truly was in the wolves who lived here and the legacies they carried with them, all on full display for his new mate to see, on this magical storyteller’s night.
Chapter Eighteen
(Roark)
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing in front of that window,” Roark said, hoping his mate didn’t run into him when he stopped in Logan’s path.
When Logan quit moving, Roark opened his arms, thrilled when his mate stepped into them instead of going around him so he could continue to pace. It took the span of several heartbeats before Logan relaxed and hugged back, slowly matching his breathing to Roark’s.
“Look at how heavy the snow is out there. What if they miss the turn? I nearly did, and it was a clear morning,” Logan muttered.
“They won’t,” Roark insisted, hoping that the feel of his fingers caressing Logan’s hair would help his mate settle down.
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because Brooks and Cage are out there with snowmobiles, lanterns, and flares to make certain of it,” Roark explained.
“I-I didn’t know they intended to do that.”
“Weren’t you…never mind, it’s my fault you don’t know. I’m sorry. He told me while you were making a plate for Wren at storyteller’s night. I should have conveyed it right away.”
Instead of being upset, Logan hugged Roark tighter. “Thank you. There was so much activity going on there at the end, it’s no wonder it slipped your mind.”
Chuckling, Roark pulled away, but only enough so he could kiss his mate and press him against the wall behind the window as the kiss deepened.
“What was that for?” Logan asked breathlessly, his cheeks flushed as he stared into Roark’s eyes.
“Do I need an excuse to kiss my mate?” Roark asked.
“Never,” Logan replied, kissing him this time.
“Ah, so this is what happens when I get the kids settled for bedtime. I see how it is.”
Rusty’s voice was warm and filled with humor as he joined them by the window.
“You’re welcome to get in on it too,” Logan offered.
He barely got the words out before Rusty pinned him to the same wall Roark had, tongue-fucking him until he had Logan’s hands stretched over his head, one hand wrapped around Logan’s wrists while Rusty’s other hand was shoved down the front of Logan’s sleep pants.
“Fuck!” Rusty growled when the CB crackled, drawing their attention away from each other.
“Go get it,” Roark said, nudging Rusty before he gave in to the temptation to try to fuck their mate against the wall.
“Son of a…seriously…the timing around here is ass.”
“Tell me about it,” Logan growled, lightly banging his head against the wall in sheer frustration.
“We’ll get there,” Roark said, stroking Logan’s arm. “You’re not the only one who’s been so keyed up they’ve been taking cold showers before coming to bed.”
