Chapter Six
brYCE
Bryce wasn’t sure inviting Tom to stay for dinner was the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he’d been enjoying his company.
Besides, Tom had earned it. The guy might’ve shown up in dress slacks and government polish, but he hadn’t hesitated to crawl through dirt and cobwebs or to help with the horses.
He’d held his own with quiet confidence, and Bryce respected that.
Something about the slight rumple to Tom—shirt untucked at the hip, sleeves rolled back, hair still a little windswept—made Bryce’s thoughts stray somewhere far from business.
But he mustn’t do anything about it, not when they were trying to keep secrets from him.
Not when he was probably here to nose into the pack as well as their security arrangements.
Tom followed him in through the back door, to where most of the pack were already assembled. Matt was leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, chatting to Riley. His eyes flicked up as they came in and held Bryce’s with a question in them.
Matt had been expecting another Council bureaucrat, but presumably he hadn’t expected said bureaucrat to show up in his kitchen at dinnertime smelling of dust and horses.
“Matt, this is Tom Barrington, from the Council,” he introduced them. “Tom, Matt Urban, alpha of the Elk Ridge pack.”
Tom stepped forward and offered his hand, after wiping it thoroughly on his pants. He ducked his head briefly in respect and then held Matt’s gaze. Not challengingly, but letting Matt see him.
“It’s a pleasure, Alpha Urban,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me onto your territory.”
Matt took his hand. “I like the way you imply I had a choice in the matter,” he said, but everyone in that room knew he did have the choice. The fact he was saying this meant he already liked what he’d seen of Tom. That was driven home by his next words. “Call me Matt.”
“Thank you,” Tom said. He wasn’t overly submissive, but deferential enough to show he didn’t view that courtesy as a sign of weakness.
Bryce guessed he must be used to navigating between politicians who all thought they had ultimate power.
Most of the Council weren’t alphas—not in the shifter sense—but no one doubted the authority they held.
“I’ve asked Tom to stay for dinner,” he said casually.
Matt nodded, and Jason, who was dishing out the food, said quietly, “Grab me another plate, Bryce.”
Bryce twisted to look at him. “Yeah, sorry about the lack of warning,” he said, realizing for the first time the assumption he’d made.
“No, seriously, you’re a life-saver,” Jason said, gesturing with his spoon to the plates in front of him.
“I still haven’t gotten used to Dave and Christian not being here, and Tristan’s got a shift at the diner, and he always eats enough for three.
I was beginning to think even Jesse might not cope with the amount I’ve made. ”
“Fat chance,” Jesse scoffed, pushing himself off the counter he’d been perched on, observing Tom carefully. Bryce could see the gears turning behind his eyes. Jesse didn’t trust easily, and he noticed everything.
“Let’s get washed up, then I’ll introduce you properly,” Bryce said, and led Tom through to the mudroom.
The washbasin in the corner had horse and wolf hair clinging to the edge.
A world away from Washington boardrooms, Bryce suspected.
Tom washed up quickly, and Bryce followed suit a little more slowly, giving the others time to adjust to the idea of company for dinner.
The type of company that meant they’d need to watch their words.
By the time they returned, Matt had taken his seat and Jason was passing around loaded plates.
Tom was polite, of course. He took the empty seat at the far end of the table without waiting to be told, thanked Riley quietly for passing the salad, and didn’t seem the least bit ruffled by the pack’s guarded silence.
It was Jesse who broke it first, which was unexpected. “So,” he said, not looking at Tom. “Guessin’ we’re a mite different from Washington.”
Tom gave a half-smile. “Fewer goats on rooftops in DC.”
Matt sighed. “Oh, God. What’re those damn goats up to now?”
“Seeking the tactical advantage of the high ground, no doubt,” Tom said. He paused an instant. “I’m assuming he can get down again on his own?”
Jesse snorted, and he finally looked up, his expression easing. “Only if she’s got somethin’ better in mind she wants to do. Most times, she’ll wait for someone to tempt her down with treats.”
From there, the conversation picked up in fits and starts. Tom asked questions about the town—where people went to eat out, what the school was like, how long The Darcy had been open. Innocent enough, on the surface. The kind of things any outsider might ask.
Bryce knew better, as did Matt. There was nothing casual about the way Tom listened to their answers. But he didn’t push or prod. He just tucked away whatever he was told, like he was building a picture piece by piece. And damn if that wasn’t smart.
As well as being sharp and observant, Tom was also open and seemed to react honestly to things. He didn’t try to impress, just listened as if he wanted to understand. And, unlike Caddel, he paid Jesse no more notice than any other member of the pack.
At one point, Riley told how earlier he’d watched Jesse try, and fail, to corral a runaway chicken, and the tense standoff that had resulted. Tom laughed outright, his head tipped back, eyes crinkling at the corners. Something warm uncoiled low in Bryce’s gut.
By the time the meal was winding down and the last of the dishes scraped clean, the atmosphere had shifted. Not to complete ease—Bryce didn’t think they’d ever let their guard down fully with a Council rep under their roof—but something closer to it.
Jesse caught Bryce’s eye for just a second, then looked away and said, almost gruffly, to Tom, “You want coffee? It ain’t bad, so long as you like it strong enough to peel paint.”
“I take it any way it comes,” Tom said. “Intravenously, if possible.”
As the mugs were passed around, Tom turned to Matt. “I’d like to come back tomorrow, with your agreement. Your territory’s too extensive to cover fully in one day.”
Matt gave a slow nod. “Yeah. I’d like a chance to talk about what you’ve observed.”
Tom acknowledged that with a dip of his head. Bryce leaned back in his chair and watched them for a moment, observing the way Tom operated, unassuming and unobtrusive. Dangerous, and all the more attractive for it.
* * *
Bryce walked him out after dinner, the night air cool and damp with the promise of dew. Somewhere in the distance, a barn owl screeched.
Tom paused by his car. “Thanks for dinner,” he said. “And for showing me around. I appreciate it.”
“Sure,” Bryce said.
A quiet stretched out between them. It wasn’t awkward, but it felt taut, like a wire humming. He couldn’t tell whether it was attraction or unease or something else. Something that made his wolf lean forward inside him, just the slightest tilt, like it wanted to take another step.
Tom didn’t move. His eyes met Bryce’s, steady and unreadable.
And Bryce—well, Bryce could’ve said a dozen things. He’d usually make a move in a situation like this. Something playful but clear, making it obvious what he was asking. But Tom was here for the Council, and so Bryce said nothing.
Instead, he reached past Tom to open the car door for him. Not a big gesture. Just close enough for his hand to come close to Tom’s hip.
The breath Tom let out was soft, but Bryce heard it.
“Good night,” Bryce said, his voice low.
Tom gave a nod. “Night.”
And then he was gone, tail lights fading into the dark, leaving Bryce standing in the driveway, heart tapping out a slightly uneven rhythm.
He knew Matt would be waiting to be briefed on his impressions of Tom, on why Bryce thought he was here days before the official security sweep. But he wanted to get his head straight before he went back inside.
Bryce had given up dating a while back. Even with his best efforts, things had sometimes gotten messy when he walked away. And he always walked away. These days, he was only interested in casual—clean exits, easy laughs, and no one expecting more.
That had been before Tom, with his observant eyes, sharp mind, and quiet competence. All wrapped up in a lithe, powerful body.
Yeah. That was going to be a problem.
TOM
Back in his hotel room, the silence pressed in harder than expected. No sound of conversation and easy laughter. No scent of hay or coffee. Just him, and the memory of Bryce’s laugh, still warm in his ears.
And if he didn’t find something to do, he’d sit here wanting to be back there, which was ridiculous.
He was going back tomorrow, and that would be more than soon enough to see Bryce.
Although, for all he knew, he wouldn’t see Bryce again.
Someone else might be assigned to babysit—or keep tabs on—the Council rep.
After showering, and organizing laundry in the hope his clothes might be salvageable, Tom jotted down his impressions of the pack members he’d met. If Steadman had just wanted a security sweep pre-visit, she’d have relied on Jax.
Bryce was warm, shrewd, and clearly protective of his pack. Jason and Riley matched their files—low-key, unobtrusive, with nothing suggesting the need for a closer look. Matt, although he’d said little, had a presence that commanded attention. Tom wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.
And Jesse Turner… Jesse was the one he could read least. Wary, guarded, not unfriendly but opaque. His affection for Matt, though, had shone through. Steadman wanted levers to use, and Tom thought if Matt vouched for someone, Jesse would likely give them a chance.
The other pack members had been absent. Tristan was working at the town diner, Karl and Colby out patrolling, and Christian and Dave off on some vacation that was carefully never specified.
Carefully enough to raise Tom’s curiosity.
Maybe he’d find out more once Tristan was back, because their brief exchange suggested he didn’t have much of a filter.
Once he was done, he encrypted the file and sent it to Steadman. Five minutes later, his phone rang.
She cut straight to the chase. “What do you think?”
He took a moment to answer. Based on all he’d seen, he tended toward believing they were what they seemed—a pack that somehow, in a still-to-be-explained way, happened to number an Argent amongst their members.
The reddest flag he’d spotted, Colby’s fear and reluctance to talk to him, might easily be explained by the rough situation Bryce had referenced, the inflection in his voice making it clear that rough was an understatement.
But then there was the apparently casual way Bryce had deflected all of his questions about members of the pack.
This pack was hiding something, he was sure of that, but he had no idea what.
Could be as simple as just wanting their privacy.
Certainly, his gut told him they weren’t plotting anything nefarious.
Was he willing to stake the councilors’ lives on his gut?
“I’m inclined to think that, whatever their agenda is, they don’t harbor ill-intent toward the Council,” he said carefully.
“Although I’d like to spend more time with them to be absolutely sure of that.
Because it’s strange—they seem not to want this attention, yet they’re the ones who contacted us about having an Argent.
Why not just continue their quiet lives in what’s something of a backwater town, and no one would ever know? ”
“I imagine that if you found a stegosaurus living in your backyard, you might not want the attention that would bring, yet you’d still feel the need to let the rest of the world know because it would mean our understanding of history was about to be turned on its head.”
“That, and I might get eaten,” Tom agreed.
“Stegosauri were herbivores,” Councilor Steadman said reprovingly, as if he should know.
He jumped in before she could get into a lecture about how appalling educational standards were these days. “I’m going back tomorrow for a more detailed look around the territory and to see what else I can discover, unless you want me somewhere else?”
“That’s exactly where I want you. Keep me posted,” she said, and killed the call.
Tom was left sitting on the bed, and his thoughts shifted—inevitably, involuntarily—back to Bryce. To the way everything in Tom had lit up when Bryce leaned past him to open the car door.
Bryce was smart, warm, sexy, self-possessed, and clearly interested in him. Something about Bryce’s scent had lingered with him, more intense than it should have been. Like his wolf had marked it as important.
He stretched out on the bed, one arm behind his head, but didn’t bother turning on the TV.
And the silence of his room felt like something was missing.