Chapter Six
At five in the morning, a huge truck came backing up the driveway, beeping and screeching at deafening levels to unload two dumpsters.
As I was telling the burly workers where I wanted them on the property, Ezra pulled up and parked beside my SUV, jumping out of his truck and telling the guys he had it under control.
Once the truck backs out, I turn to Ezra with wide eyes. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He gestures to the two containers with his chin. “I’ll get those to where they need to be. Then, I’ll get the animals situated, and we can get started on the trailer when you’re ready.”
I’m like a deer in headlights. This man means business. “Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee?”
“No, ma’am.” He’s already aligning one of the dumpsters.
“Okay. I just have a couple more things to do inside. I’ll meet you when you’re done in the barn.”
He tips that black cowboy hat and begins pushing the first trash bin, the wheels protesting loudly, but he maneuvers it like it weighs nothing.
Ezra is huge. I watch his muscular back move inside his white tee shirt, and swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.
Down, girl.
But there’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. Something different that I can only hope I’ll one day learn.
Inside, I return to my laptop that’s using my cell phone as a hotspot for internet access—just one more thing I need to address, and quickly—and finish my application for a business credit card, for which I was instantly approved.
The Pepper name comes in handy some days.
Before I’d come back out to Crescent Lake, I’d handled the business ownership transfer, and that was when I learned that the official name of the place was Majorie’s Memories.
I’d felt like I’d been shot through the heart. The one woman Jim belonged to, the Omega he could never have. He never looked at another woman again and spent the rest of his life alone with his animals, and sometimes me.
While I’d been sad for Uncle Jim, I was pretty angry with that woman who had no hand in the creation of this sanctuary.
So, I changed the official business name to Springer's Sanctuary.
The first beloved pup I bonded with here always held such a special place in my heart, and I knew that both she and Jim would approve of the change.
The sanctuary was under my care now.
The new business name would be on the credit cards. Two of them, one for me and another for Ezra. I’m sure that he’ll need to buy things for Pie and Gator and use his truck for it, so I’ll need to be sure that he uses the card to pay for materials and gas.
I let the dogs out again for a while so they can play and bask in the rising sun, and I run upstairs to change into a pair of old jeans and an old tee, slip on equally old and dirty sneakers, and grab my work gloves that I’d set out on the dresser the night before.
I didn’t know what time Ezra would arrive, but I should have guessed he’d be early, given his ranching background. He probably even waited a while to roll up, for my sake.
Which is good, because I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. I’m definitely going to need a nap this afternoon to survive.
With my phone in my back pocket, I bring in the dogs and head out to the old trailer, looking at the driveway to see if the second bin was moved, and of course, it was.
Pie and Gator are out of the barn, Pie eating out of some raised metal bin, and Gator rolling in what looks like some fresh, golden hay.
Ezra approaches me from the gate. When he’s only a couple of feet away, he says, “I picked up an order of hay and feed on my way here this morning. Lloyd set it up and told me where to go.”
“Oh,” I breathe. Holy shit, I was supposed to go there today. I didn’t realize they’d be open so early. “Thank you so much. Tell me how much it was so I can pay you back.”
He’s already shaking his head. “Lloyd said it was a gift. Now, why don’t we get started on this trailer? I’ll pull the junk out, and you can go over everything on the lawn.” He reaches into his back pocket for his own set of work gloves, tan, dirty, and worn-in.
As I follow him to the trailer, I say, “I can help pull stuff out. I don’t want you to do it all on your own, that’s not right.”
He stops outside the door and turns to me, his face serious. “We don’t know what all is in there, ma’am. There could be critters or venomous spiders. You let me handle this, and you sift through everything out here in the open.”
He leaves no room to argue, opening the door and heading inside where the sun can’t reach.
Well, this isn’t going to be good.
“I’ll be right back,” I call into the trailer and run back to the house to grab the one thing I hadn’t thought of ahead of time. A flashlight.
There’s a large, rechargeable one inside the garage, and I slip the freshly charged battery into the port, load up a depleted one in the charging cradle, and run back out to the trailer, climb the steps, and turn the light on for Ezra.
He turns back at me the moment I do, and goes to reach for the light.
“You need two hands, big guy. Let me do this for you.”
His handsome face is skeptical in the shadows.
“I promise I won’t come in any further unless you need me to, and I’ll stay out of your way.”
Seemingly satisfied, he returns to his work, hauling out armfuls of junk and laying it near the dumpsters.
We—or more accurately, he—is at it for a good thirty minutes or more, me standing there like I’m inept, thinking that there has to be an easier way to do this, when a voice calls out from behind me.
“Hey!”
I turn to find Jasper jogging toward us at a slow, steady pace, still favoring his leg.
“What are you doing here?” I ask once he’s within earshot, and he gives me a dramatic, sad look.
“You didn’t want to see me?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you here so early?”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “My Spidey Senses were tingling. They told me you needed a hand. And it looks like they were right.”
He peers into the trailer where I’m shining the flashlight, and takes a long look at Ezra, a tiny wrinkle forming between his brows.
If I’d known Jasper was coming, I would have warned him. It’s only right that he knows that Ezra is here, and who he is to us. But things don’t always work out like lining up dominoes.
“Ezra,” I call, and he turns to look at me, then Jasper, his gaze slightly hostile. Slightly. There’s an inquisitiveness there, too. “This is Jasper.”
Jasper moves up the stairs and into the trailer, arm extended in a friendly gesture. Ezra yanks off his glove and takes the hand. As they shake, I swear a zing of electricity crackles between their gazes. Something competitive, but not exactly angry anymore.
Actually, I don’t know what it is.
Men are weird.
My phone chimes from my pocket, and I know who it is before I check it. I gave Jasper and Adam their own tones once I had their numbers.
“Hey, Jasper? Would you take over with the light for a couple of minutes?”
“Sure thing, Adley.” It’s like he doesn’t want to turn his back on Ezra, backing up to where I’m standing and holding his hand out for the handle of the flashlight.
I roll my eyes, hand it to him, and walk out into the newly risen sun, phone in hand.
Adam
Hey, I have some stuff I want to show you. When’s a good time to come by?
I huff a laugh, take a pic of Jasper and Ezra in the trailer, and send it to him.
Me
Any time works for me.
I pause for a second, realizing I have the chance to warn Adam where I didn’t with Jasper. I tap his icon to call him.
“Hey,” he says on the first ring.
“Hey, yourself.” I keep my voice low as I walk away from the trailer and out of earshot. “Listen, Jasper showed up unannounced, so I didn’t get to tell him, and it didn’t come up when you were here last night, but…”
What do I say? How do I tell him that Ezra has to be his other pack brother because he’s my Alpha?
“The big guy in the back of the trailer in that pic is named Ezra. He’s your and Jasper’s pack brother.”
The words just kind of spew from my lips, no preamble, no warning.
Maybe it’s better to rip the band-aid off?
Adam is quiet. Too quiet. Then he says, “What?”
I wince. “Um. Yeah. He’s my scent match, like you two. I’d planned to tell you and Jasper and have everyone meet, but, honestly, Ezra isn’t really acknowledging our connection. Not yet. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.”
Adam’s quiet again, then hums contemplatively. “Well, thanks for the warning. I’d still like to come by, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. You’re welcome anytime.”
I can hear his smile in his reply. “See you in ten.”
Phone back in my pocket, I head back to the trailer where I hear a rumble of voices, low and careful, blocked out now and then by loud shuffling and items falling over onto the rotting wood below.
The flashlight is propped up on an empty plastic bin on top of an empty plastic bucket, and both Ezra and Jasper are working on dislodging a large wooden object at the back of the trailer.
Since I’m obviously not needed—and embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of resting the light on something instead of standing there like an idiot all this time—I busy myself going through all the stuff on the grass that they’ve already pulled out of there, tossing empty containers and other items I have no use for into the dumpsters.
When Jasper leads the way out of the trailer, walking backward, he’s balancing the weight of what looks like a very heavy wooden desk. He and Ezra put it down gently on the lawn, and I breathe out a “Wow” at the sight of it.
Sturdy oak, engraved filigree vines and leaves, drawers seemingly intact with brass knobs. The finish is worn and scuffed, leaving the piece in need of sanding and refinishing.
But still, I love it.
“I think we’re going to keep this one,” Jasper says, looking right at me with a grin.
I’m already nodding in agreement. “I’ll have a project once everything settles down.”