Chapter 5 Wolf
Wolf
Riley Tate was going to give me gray hair.
The morning after her “friendly visit,” I came downstairs to find Trigger sitting at the bar like his soul had left his body.
Elbows on the counter.
Head in his hands.
Staring at nothing.
Saint leaned against the wall, sipping coffee. “He’s been like that for ten minutes.”
Havoc tossed a muffin at Trigger. “Snap out of it, lover boy.”
The muffin hit Trigger in the shoulder. He didn’t react.
I sighed. “Someone explain.”
“Riley Tate,” Saint said, amused.
Trigger finally lifted his head. “She told me… and I quote… ‘Aim higher.’ Then she winked.”
Saint winced. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t even know what she meant,” Trigger said. “Aim higher at what? The ceiling? My standards? My cholesterol?”
Havoc snorted. “Your IQ.”
Trigger pointed dramatically. “YOU’RE NOT HELPING.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Forget Riley. We’ve got work to do.”
He groaned. “I can’t forget Riley. She had that look in her eye. Like she wanted to ruin my life in a fun way.”
“She probably does,” Saint said cheerfully.
“Gentlemen,” I said. “Focus. Riley is the Sheriff’s daughter.”
And for a whole ten minutes, they focused.
Then Riley walked in again.
Boots.
Leather jacket.
Perfect hair.
A smirk that said she was here for trouble and had already preheated the oven.
“Hiiii, boys.”
Trigger fell off the ladder.
Saint covered his face.
Havoc muttered a prayer.
I closed my eyes and counted to three. “Riley.”
“Wolf.” She hopped onto the bar like she had a permanent claim on it. “Relax. Sheriff Dad sent me to check permits.”
“No,” Havoc said.
“She’s not allowed,” Saint added.
Trigger scrambled upright. “She can check anything she wants.”
Riley pointed at him. “See? That’s the attitude. Aim higher, Trigger.”
Trigger froze like he’d been electrocuted.
Riley grinned at me. “Anyway, I’ll be around.”
“Please don’t,” I said.
She winked and sauntered out, leaving a trail of chaos, cologne, and shattered male dignity.
Trigger whimpered.
Saint patted him. “She’s your problem in book two, buddy. Suck it up.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Trigger whispered.
“You will,” Saint said darkly.
By mid-afternoon, the upstairs apartment was sweltering with sawdust and the smell of hard labor. I stripped off my T-shirt, wiped sweat from my neck, and went back to sanding the new banister railing.
Trigger’s ladder creaked. “Wolf…”
“No,” I said.
“You didn’t hear what I was gonna ask.”
“No,” I repeated.
Trigger hopped down anyway. “Do you think Riley likes me?”
“No.”
“I feel like she does.”
“She doesn’t.”
He nodded sagely. “You’re probably right. Women who are that hot usually fall for Saint.”
Saint blinked. “Why am I in this conversation?”
Havoc—ripping out old molding with enough force to scare God—grunted, “Because you look like a Disney prince who kills people.”
Saint considered. “Fair.”
Trigger leaned closer. “Maybe Nora likes you,” he whispered.
My pry bar slipped.
Trigger’s eyes widened. “Oh my GOD—she totally does.”
“Get out,” I said.
“I live here,” he said.
“You’re thirty-three, stop acting like a boy with a crush.”
“Easy for you to say,” Trigger said.
But before I could respond, footsteps tapped down the hallway.
Soft footsteps.
Nora's footsteps.
Trigger’s grin turned feral. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
I shot him a look promising death and turned toward the hall.
Nora appeared in the doorway wearing a navy skirt, a fitted silk blouse, and a determined expression that could move mountains.
Then she froze.
Her eyes landed on me.
Specifically on my bare chest.
Her pupils dilated.
Her breath hitched.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt… self-conscious.
I cleared my throat. “Nora.”
She blinked rapidly, looked at the ceiling, the floor, a paint can—anywhere but me. “I—I brought… maps. More maps. Historical ones. For Saint. Or whoever. Not for you. Definitely not…for…that.” She gestured vaguely at my upper body.
Trigger made a strangled sound that might’ve been laughter. Saint elbowed him hard enough to shut him up.
I stepped forward, reached for the folder she clutched like a shield. “Thanks. And sorry. It’s hot up here.”
“Mm-hm,” she squeaked.
I opened the folder to save us both. “These are good. We can match the original structure to the renovation plans.”
She nodded so fast I thought she might get whiplash.
Saint rescued her. “Nora, come look. The old beam structure is actually beautiful under all the plaster.”
“Oh, thank God,” she muttered and hurried over to him.
Trigger sidled up to my shoulder, whispering, “She saw your pecs and almost exploded.”
I didn’t take my eyes off her. “Say pecs again, and I’ll throw you out the window.”
Trigger beamed. “He’s in loooove.”
“Bathroom duty,” I said.
“For how long?”
“A month.”
“HAVOC,” Trigger yelped. “HELP ME.”
Havoc didn’t even look up. “You did this to yourself.”
Nora spent fifteen minutes with Saint going over beam placements and original building measurements.
But even while Saint talked excitedly about the structure, Nora kept sneaking glances at me.
Small. Quick. Pink-cheeked.
Like she didn’t want me to see.
But I did.
I saw everything.
Eventually, she straightened, smoothing her blouse. “This place is really looking wonderful. All of you are doing a wonderful job. Okay, I should—um—I have a meeting with the Friends of the Library board. They get weird if I’m late.”
“Need help crossing the street?” Trigger teased.
Nora spun so fast her hair whipped. “I can cross a street by myself, Trigger.”
“Sure,” he said. “But Wolf likes to supervise.”
I closed my eyes.
Nora’s cheeks flamed. “He does NOT supervise me.”
Trigger pointed at me. “You want to bet?”
She opened her mouth—
But then Riley walked in again.
“Hi, boys. Enjoying the dust bath?”
Nora stiffened. “Oh. Hi, Riley.”
Riley grinned. “Nora, you’re looking cute today. Very librarian chic. Love the skirt.”
“T-thank you,” Nora said, flustered.
Riley pointed her thumb at Trigger. “Why’s he pale?”
Saint answered dryly, “Because you just walked in.”
Riley lit up. “Fair.”
Nora grabbed her folder. “I’m going to go before I get caught in your orbit.”
Riley winked. “Smart. Trigger’s already circling.”
“HEY,” Trigger protested.
But Nora was already retreating down the stairs.
I followed a few steps, leaning on the rail. “Nora.”
She paused halfway down. Looked up.
Her eyes were softer today. A little braver. A little bolder.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Thanks,” I said quietly. “For the maps. For the help. For…everything.”
She swallowed. “You’re welcome.”
“And Nora?” I added.
She backed up one step. “Hmm?”
“I wasn’t supervising you. Not intentionally.”
A slow smile touched her lips. “I know.”
I stared.
She stared back.
And for one long, treacherous second, the hallway crackled with something that felt like summer lightning.
Then she nodded and disappeared down the stairs, soft footfalls fading away.
Trigger exhaled loudly behind me. “Oh, he is DOWN BAD.”
Havoc grunted. “Pathetic.”
Saint smiled into his coffee. “Knew it.”
I ignored all of them.
But when I turned back to the window, Nora was already crossing the street.
And this time—
I didn’t look away.