32
ROBERT
“What do you think Pop would say?” I ask Hunter as we pull up at the old lumberyard on the western corner of Braysville. It was rundown and rustic, but since the new wolves have taken over, it’s seen a wave of modernization. They’re not messing around.
“I think he’d be against this.” Hunter’s gripping the steering wheel as though he intends to rip it off and toss it out the window.
“But Mom would want it. She would have encouraged it. She would have made him believe it was his great idea.”
We all smile at the memory of our parents' relationship. Dad was a typical grumpy bear, but he’d turn into a teddy when Mom turned on her feminine charms. I see some of her in Goldie. Even when Hunter’s stressed out and tired, a gentle touch on the arm or a soft word from Goldie and all the tension leaves him. Only the Creator knows what he’s going to be like once he’s claimed her. I have a feeling he’ll metaphorically morph from grizzly to pussy cat overnight.
“They’re expecting us?” Evan asks, even though we’ve been over this. None of us wants to shred our clothes by being forced to shift into our bear forms.
“Yes. Let’s do this.” Hunter flings open the door and steps out onto the wood chip covered ground. As though the wolves have scented us, suddenly, three huge men emerge from the large wooden doors. Clad in jeans and plaid shirts like lumberjacks, they stand with wide stances and their hands in their pockets, watching us.
“Brothers?” Evan whispers. It sure looks like it. With dark hair and the same light blue eyes, they make a striking and intense impression. Hunter leads and we follow a step behind. When we’re six feet apart, he stops abruptly, respecting the distance required for unpressured negotiation.
“I’m Hunter Bjorn,” my older brother says. “This is my brother, Robert, and my brother, Evan.”
The wolfman at the center nods. “I’m Nixon Fenrir and these are my brothers, Reed and Finn.”
We all nod, taking our time to size each other up. In human form, they’re a similar size to us. Muscular and imposing, with strong, determined features and an impressive air. Very unlike their wolf predecessors.
“How are you finding Braysville?” Hunter asks.
“We like it,” Nixon says. “It was time for a move. We understand you had some issues with the last…” He hesitates.
Hunter doesn’t wait for him to find a human word for pack. “We did. It was good for neither side.”
Nixon nods. Reed and Finn both keep their eyes on us, ever watchful. “We’re focused on our business.”
“The place looks good.” Hunter gestures behind them at the improved yard.
“It’s been a challenge, but we enjoy the work.”
Nodding, Hunter slides his hands into his own jeans, mirroring Nixon. I follow and so does Evan, understanding the value of body language. Mirroring is a way of creating common ground in an unconscious way.
“Well—” Hunter’s voice trails.
“If you’re looking for lumber, we offer competitive prices.” Nixon reaches out to offer his hand.
If Hunter’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “We have an old house that needs constant repairs. We’ll end up on your doorstep sooner than later.”
“Finn makes beautiful furniture. He’s a fine carpenter.”
Finn nods, glancing down as though his brother’s words have embarrassed him.
“We’ll bear that in mind.” Hunter takes a step back, putting him in line with me and Evan.
“It was nice to meet you.”
I stare at Nixon, wondering why this has been so easy. Could it really be that he’s looking for peace for his pack, or is he simply trying to lull us into a false sense of security?
Just as Hunter begins to turn, Nixon steps forward. “I heard about what happened to your mate.”
The growl that emanates from Hunter’s throat is immediate.
Nixon holds up his hands. “I wanted to say that I hope she’s made a full recovery. It’s a bad business bringing women and children into any war. When men make trouble, men should pay the price. ”
“Yes,” I say quickly, despite the protocol dictating I should stay silent. “She is fine.”
“We are looking,” Reed says. “For our own mate.”
“May the Creator bless you,” Evan says.
Finn smiles. “She’s taking her time.”
We all laugh in short, stilted puffs.
With a tight wave, Hunter retreats to the truck. As we drive away, he lets out an almighty breath. “Dad would be happy,” he says, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music. “And Mom would be proud.”
Isn’t that the truth?
But what will Goldie think? Is this really what’s been holding her back? I guess there’s only one way to find out.