Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
TOM
Tom was waiting outside when Bryce pulled into the hotel parking lot, his truck pulling up with a rumble that, irrationally, Tom felt low in his chest. The morning was bright, edged with a crispness that promised heat later, and Bryce stepped out wearing worn jeans, shades, and that easy charm that seemed to live under his skin.
It had only been a few hours since they’d sat together on the porch, talking in low voices as the evening deepened and the world slowed down. Tom hadn’t meant to let anything about it linger, but it had.
“Morning,” Bryce said. He offered Tom one of the two take-out coffees he was carrying. “Peace offering.”
Tom took it with a nod of thanks. “For?”
“For the morning you’re about to have.” Bryce settled back against his truck, legs crossed at the ankle in a way that Tom couldn’t stop looking at. Because those jeans showed off his legs to perfection.
“That bad?” Tom asked, his usual easy conversation seeming to have deserted him as he stared at the picture Bryce made.
“There’s going to be a lot of talking before we get to any point,” Bryce said, then he grinned and hoisted his coffee to Tom in a salute. “Though, actually, that sounds no different to your day job.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Inside, the hotel’s front desk was staffed by one of the owners, a wary older man who looked like he’d been preparing to repel boarders since dawn.
Tom had gotten nowhere with him the day before, his questions about logistics and security for the upcoming visit politely yet firmly stonewalled.
Tom hadn’t gone in hard, keeping things polite and unassuming.
But he’d been an unknown quantity, and he had the feeling he’d probably come off as smooth rather than warm.
Warmth in Washington would get him marked down as an easy target.
Bryce, when he’d heard, had offered his services. And now, with Bryce beside him, things were different.
Bryce leaned against the counter like it was his second home, smile easy, posture loose. “Hey, Ken. Appreciate you taking time for us. How’s Lily doing?”
He hadn’t been kidding about the talking. But after twenty minutes or so during which Tom listened to developments in the lives of people he’d never heard of, Ken softened to the point of including him in the conversation.
Tom had watched the change with interest. Bryce neither pushed nor retreated. He simply opened space for people to be heard, and then listened. He didn’t dominate a conversation, but Ken had ended up following his lead.
Tom’s skills in encouraging people to talk to him, to impart more than perhaps they intended, weren’t exactly shabby. But the difference was, Bryce sounded like he meant everything he said. That he was as invested in Lily—Ken’s daughter, who was living in Golden—as Ken was.
And that was trust, wasn’t it? The kind that couldn’t be forced. Bryce earned it like breathing. God knew, Tom already trusted him, though he couldn’t have said why.
Ken ended up happily showing Tom around the room Steadman would occupy.
Not exactly the Councilor’s usual standard of suite, but she’d have to take what she could get.
Ken also raised no objection to Tom and Bryce wandering around the hotel, inspecting every corner and cupboard.
His wife, Cindy, was on their heels the entire time.
Seemed Cindy had a bit of a thing for Bryce, his easy smile, and his gentle, respectful flirtation with her.
After they’d finished, Bryce glanced at Tom. “You fancy lunch?”
The diner was halfway to full when Bryce pushed open the door.
“You’ll want to brace yourself,” he murmured. “Strangers are about the only entertainment we get around here.”
As they stepped inside, the warm scent of coffee, bacon, and fried onions rolled over him. Bryce tipped a casual salute toward the counter. “How’s it going, Sam?”
Behind the counter, Sam, with cheekbones that could cut glass and auburn hair pinned up off her neck, eyed him closely.
“Reynolds,” she said. “What’ve you done this time?”
“Nothing!” Bryce protested with exaggerated innocence. “But I brought you a National Council representative. That count as pre-emptive penance?”
Her gaze flicked to Tom, and one neatly arched eyebrow rose. “You’re the one I’ve been hearing about this morning.”
Tom nodded. “Tom Barrington. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Sam narrowed her eyes. “You’re polite. That’ll wear off if you spend more time around Reynolds.”
Tom, who was never at a loss for words, found himself unsure what to say. This sort of fond teasing was alien to him.
Sam handed them menus. “Sit anywhere. Riley’s around here someplace, pretending he knows how to pour coffee.”
Bryce steered Tom to a booth by the window. “It’s a compliment,” he said mildly. “She only insults people she likes.”
As if on cue, a cheerful voice chimed in from the side. “Hey, Bryce, Tom.” Riley had a pot of coffee in one hand and a grin so charming it could’ve sold car insurance.
Their orders taken and alone once more, Tom leaned across the table to Bryce, not wanting to announce his question to the entire diner.
“Riley’s the first non-shifter I’ve heard of actually joining a pack, rather than simply being recognized as someone’s mate. How’d that come about?”
Before Bryce could answer, they were interrupted.
“Bryce Reynolds, you didn’t tell me you were escorting such handsome company today.”
Bryce glanced at Tom, a suggestion of rueful apology in his face, before turning in his seat to the woman two tables along. “Good afternoon, Nerissa.”
Nerissa, blonde, in her fifties, and dressed like lunch was an occasion, let her gaze travel over Tom before meeting his eyes, amusement sparkling behind hers.
“You must be the National Council rep Jason mentioned. Tall, handsome, and clearly overqualified to spend your time here.”
She was appraising but not predatory—like someone who knew good aesthetics and wasn’t shy about appreciating them.
Tom inclined his head, smiling back. “Tom Barrington, ma’am. Lovely to meet you.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, delighted. “So well-mannered. Bryce, if this one gets away from us, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“I’ll add it to my sins,” Bryce said dryly. “According to Sam, they’re stacking up this week.”
As Nerissa returned her attention to her coffee, Tom glanced at Bryce. “You weren’t kidding about the reception.”
“She’s a menace,” Bryce said under his breath. “And I mean that with nothing but respect and affection.”
Then, picking up the thread without missing a beat, he added, “As for Riles? Jason asked if he could join, and we said yes. Didn’t seem complicated. Doesn’t matter that he’s not a shifter. He’s pack.”
Tom nodded slowly. That was more than unusual—it was quietly revolutionary. But Bryce had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Their food arrived soon afterward, courtesy of Jason. He nodded politely at Tom, oblivious to the way Nerissa was appreciating his ass as he turned back toward the kitchen.
Over steak and fries, Bryce told him about the diner’s history.
How Sam had taken it over when the original owner retired, how Jason had worked here ever since arriving in Elk Ridge, and it was now home away from home, with both Riley and Tristan picking up shifts.
There was a warmth to Bryce’s stories, a kind of affection that made Tom wonder what it must be like to be part of something like this, to be woven into a community so deeply that the roots couldn’t be untangled.
“You ever miss city life?” Tom asked, because Bryce had been raised in Cheyenne and spent some time in Denver before coming to Elk Ridge.
“Not for a second,” Bryce said without hesitation. “I like having people I know around me. People who mean what they say.”
Tom nodded, slowly. “I can see the appeal.”
And he could. Because it wasn’t just Bryce—it was the way this town worked.
The way people looked out for one another.
When he’d mentioned to Bryce his frustration at getting information out of Ken, Bryce had nodded.
“He’s probably worried about your intentions toward this pack,” he’d said.
“There’s no other reason for National Council members to be in town. ”
That type of unconditional loyalty wasn’t something he’d ever expected to want, but it stirred something in him. An awareness of a gap he hadn’t realized was there.
Sam stopped by their table to check they had everything they needed.
“How’s Nat doing?” Bryce asked her.
A shadow crossed Sam’s face. “Still on bed rest. She’s bored out of her mind, but the doctor says no getting up until the baby’s here.”
“Damn,” Bryce said softly. “Give her my love, yeah?”
“Will do,” Sam said, with a quick smile that didn’t mask the worry in her eyes.
“Nat?” Tom asked, as Sam moved away.
“She’s been the server here the last, God, four years? Seems like forever. She and Derek have been trying for a kid for a while now.”
Bryce leaned back, coffee cradled in one hand, a soft sigh escaping him as if he were as worried about Nat and Derek’s baby as they were. He seemed to know everyone in town—their families, their hopes, probably even their dogs’ names.
There was something magnetic about him. Tom had seen that from the start. It was more than charm. His easy warmth had people gravitating to him, opening up, and he made it look easy, like he had enough to spare for everyone.
Tom had seen it with his pack, but it was a revelation to watch that generosity turned on the town as well. Everyone knew him, and everyone liked him. At least half of them flirted with him. And Bryce, that glint in his eyes, happily flirted back.
The realization landed like a punch he hadn’t braced for. Bryce wasn’t treating him any differently than he did the rest of the town. The warmth, the spark, the easy attention... it wasn’t personal, the way Tom had thought. It was just who Bryce was.
And Tom, lonely and longing, had let himself believe it meant something more.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misread what was right in front of him. He’d thought everything with Zack was fine, that even though they weren’t mates, they’d built a life together that would last. And then he’d come home one afternoon from a strategy meeting to find Zack packing his things.
He still didn’t know if Zack would have just left, if he hadn’t arrived when he did. Sometimes he wished that he had, that he’d come home to an empty apartment rather than the lecture that laid out in excruciating detail every single one of his inadequacies.
“You okay?” Bryce asked suddenly. His gaze flicked over, sharp yet somehow soft as well.
Tom smiled. The kind of smile that got him through hard meetings and impossible committee rooms.
“Of course,” he said.
And then he looked out the window, because if he didn’t, he might do something disastrous like reach across the table to the warmth that made him feel valued and seen. Just like everyone else.
He covered the rest of the meal well enough. Easy smiles, a few polite questions, enough warmth not to be suspicious.
But Bryce had looked at him differently, as if he’d seen behind the facade. He didn’t ask again, but his eyes did—you okay?
He smiled, and smoothly moved the conversation on. What else could he do?
Bryce headed back to the ranch after lunch, with one last questioning look, and Tom returned to the hotel.
He messaged Matt’s security lead, Karl, to finalize the equipment order they’d discussed the previous evening.
Nothing classified, just civilian-grade gear that was reliable and which suited the topography, pack resources, and available manpower.
Karl had been startlingly attractive but also quietly competent, sharply intelligent, and focused. Just the way Tom liked it.
He called in a favor to expedite delivery. The kit would be overnighted to Denver and couriered to his doorstep by morning.
Then he typed up his report, encrypted it and sent it to Steadman. He left out the way Bryce’s smile lingered in his head. That wasn’t relevant. That wasn’t the job. But it didn’t stop him thinking about it.
When Bryce had looked at him, he’d thought he’d been seen.
Not the perfect aide, not the seconded muscle, not the guy who got dumped two days before his thirtieth birthday.
Just Tom. It had been disarming and a little terrifying.
He’d also been wrong. Bryce made whoever he was speaking to feel special, just for that moment.
Thank God he hadn’t done anything about it.