Chapter Twenty
RILEY
Riley sat frozen in a lawn chair, gaze pinned on the fucking huge wolf who was sitting in front of him and staring unblinkingly.
The only move the wolf made was to lick his lips occasionally.
When Riley slowly reached out a hand toward his drink, just to see what happened, the wolf tracked his every movement. He froze again.
Fuck. It had all been going so well, too.
Most of the pack had already been assembled in the backyard when he and Jason had arrived.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was like any other gathering of friends, getting together for an afternoon of sunshine and food and beer.
But he did know better, and there was no gainsaying the keen intelligence in Matt Urban’s eyes as he welcomed Riley, or the weight of command behind his relaxed demeanor.
Bryce had been what Riley expected—full of bad jokes and flirtation, teasing Jason mercilessly about his boyfriend. But there was a shrewdness to him that Riley hadn’t anticipated. He guessed no one got to be beta of a pack lightly, especially when the alpha was Matt Urban.
Jesse Turner was pretty much as he’d seemed in the sheriff’s office—friendly enough, while keeping a bit of a distance.
He was just as scruffy now as then, wearing faded, frayed jeans and a blue Henley so well-washed and worn that it looked as if it would fall apart at a touch.
Dave was quiet and welcoming, while Tristan was enthusiastic, chatty, and apparently the pack’s goat wrangler, disappearing at one point to chase a pair of determined escapees away from the grill.
He hadn’t met either Karl or Christian yet.
From what Jason had said, they were patrolling the pack’s territory, making sure there were no intruders.
Riley wondered if this was normal shifter behavior or verging on paranoia.
If it was the latter, maybe there was a reason for it.
Maybe it confirmed the rumor they had an Argent.
Eventually, the rest of the pack had wandered into the house, ostensibly to bring out food and beer, though Bryce had added, with a wink, that they were mostly going inside to gossip about Jason’s date. That had left Riley momentarily alone.
A moment was all it had taken.
From around the corner of the barn, a big wolf had appeared, silent and purposeful, heading straight for him. Now it was just sitting there. Staring.
“Christian!”
Riley jumped at Jason’s shout. He’d never heard that blistering tone from Jason. He’d never thought Jason could sound angry.
The wolf sitting in front of Riley seemed to grin—though he could just have been showing Riley every last one of his very white, very sharp teeth—before getting lazily to his feet and strolling off.
“God, I’m sorry,” Jason said, sitting next to Riley and shoving a beer bottle into his hand. Which wasn’t really trembling. It was just that the bottle was cold, that was all. “He can be an asshole.”
“So, uh, he wasn’t really going to eat me?” Riley checked.
“He was trying to psych you out. His sense of humor.” Jason sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“No harm done,” Riley said. Aside from the mild cardiac episode and the fact he was ninety percent sure he needed to change his underwear.
He took a long pull from the beer, settling his still-jangling nerves. It was one thing to know Jason was a shifter, and another entirely to be stared down by a fucking wolf with eyes full of challenge and sharp teeth on full display.
Shifters were supposed to be unpredictable and dangerous. But as he glanced at Jason, who was warm and apologetic and more human than most people Riley had known, he thought that wasn’t true of them all.
He glanced around. Although he was checking that the damn wolf really had disappeared, he also noticed a lot of activity over by the grill. “You’re not on grill duty, then?”
Jason flushed slightly. “Apparently, my job is to keep my date happy,” he said. “But don’t panic, I did the prep on the food, so it should be edible. So long as Bryce doesn’t—Bryce!” he raised his voice. “Don’t put the—oh, God, do you mind?” he said to Riley, already half out of his seat.
“Go for it,” Riley said resignedly. He guessed Jason just couldn’t help himself.
And it was kind of hilarious, watching mild-mannered Jason boss the rest of them around, shooing Jesse away when he scooped potato salad out of a container with his fingers and leaving Urban looking vaguely amused as he carefully turned the meat in accordance with Jason’s very precise instructions.
Riley settled in his chair and enjoyed the unusual sensation of a relaxing afternoon where nobody judged him or wanted anything from him. It was… nice. Unfamiliar, but nice.
His gaze drifted back to Jason, who was listening to Tristan’s excited monologue with an easy smile as he absently moved the coleslaw away from Jesse. Jason fit in here like it was the most natural thing in the world. As if he wasn’t always waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under him.
What would that even feel like? The voices of the pack rose and fell, soft chatter interspersed with laughter. It would be so easy to relax into it, even though he wasn’t part of the group.
Riley scanned the yard idly, and that was when he caught Matt Urban, no longer at the grill but standing off to one side. The alpha wasn’t joking around like the others. His arms were folded, his gaze sharp and direct as it locked on Riley.
For an instant, Riley froze. Something in Urban’s cool, assessing expression sent a prickle of unease up his spine. He was weighing Riley, taking his measure.
Urban nodded politely to him, but the memory of his gaze lingered as he turned away. Riley swallowed. Maybe that was just Urban’s resting face. Maybe. But the chill didn’t quite leave him.
He was so on edge that he jumped when his phone buzzed with a message. Amy. Need something I can run with for Monday.
To anyone who didn’t know Amy, it sounded harmless.
But Riley knew her, and harmless was the last word he’d use to describe her.
Well, maybe after ‘kind.’ He’d be fired if he didn’t give her what she wanted.
How the other journalists met her arbitrary deadlines rather than letting an investigation unfold at its own pace, Riley had no idea.
But then, other journalists weren’t getting distracted by Jason.
By his smile, the openness in his eyes, the way he’d said ‘Just yourself. That’s more than enough.
’ No one had ever said that to Riley before.
Hell, he was damn sure no one had ever thought that about him, and it had made his heart skip a beat.
Some part of him knew he was balancing two impossible things, and that whichever of them won, it would destroy the other. He told himself he could balance both, just a little while longer. But deep down, he already knew how this would end.
* * *
A little later, Jason came back, dropping into the chair beside Riley, his face bright and happy. They chatted idly as the sun moved toward the horizon, and the delicious scent of grilled meat began to waft through the air.
“I think we’re ready,” Tristan announced at last, causing a general move toward the grill and the table on which sauces and salads were set out.
Riley’s stomach was rumbling. Breakfast had been good, but it had been a hell of a long time ago.
Dave passed him a plate, and he glanced back to check if Jason needed one.
Only to suck in his breath with something that was damn near a snarl as he narrowed his eyes—Bryce, that goddamn asshole, was crowding Jason back against the table, his hand on Jason’s shoulder as he leaned in close to him, saying something in a low voice that had Jason flushing.
Riley stalked over to them and slammed his plate down on the table so hard he was surprised it didn’t break. “You,” he said, and stepped into Bryce’s space. “Back off. Right the fuck now.” He glared into Bryce’s eyes, not fooled for a single second by his assumed surprise.
Bryce took a step backward, hands raised slightly. “Just teasing your boyfriend,” he said, and winced. “Not like that—in a fraternal, brotherly, fellow pack member sort of way. Okay?”
Riley glowered up at him and moved against Jason, till they were standing so close he could feel the heat from Jason’s body.
“Riley,” Jason said, and he sounded as if he was soothing a fractious dog. “It’s okay. I guess we’re just more hands-on than non-shifters—it’s the whole pack thing. Bryce didn’t mean anything by it.”
Jesse came to stand beside Bryce, his gaze steady and challenging on Riley. “Bryce don’t poach. None of us do.”
Riley realized he was somehow getting into a standoff with a bunch of wolves, and he didn’t even know why.
“Sorry,” he said, and he could suddenly breathe again. It was like coming up from being underwater. “I don’t know—I’m not sure where that came from.”
Jesse gave him one last, measuring look, then ambled off, tossing a comment over his shoulder that Riley didn’t catch but which made Bryce laugh.
Riley realized he was still standing too close to Jason—practically plastered to him—long after Bryce and Jesse had wandered back to the grill. The burn of embarrassment crawled up his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d reacted like he had some kind of claim, as if Jason belonged to him.
Jason gave him a sidelong glance, half amused, half fond, and Riley wanted to sink into the ground.
“Sorry,” Riley muttered under his breath, grabbing for his plate as cover. “Guess I’m not used to the whole pack thing.”
“It’s okay,” Jason said simply, no trace of judgment in his voice. Just that accepting, easy presence Riley had come to crave.
Riley willed the tension out of his shoulders as laughter floated back from the grill. Like nothing had happened. Like Riley hadn’t just made himself look like a jealous jerk. He kept his gaze on his plate. Never thought dishes could be so interesting. Get a grip, Clark.