Several days later.
What the hell were Avail and our grandmother thinking getting me into this mess?
I was killing myself out here and I still didn’t have a clue just what the hell I was doing in North Bumblefuck, aka Dry Creek, New Jersey.
Everything hurt.
My back.
My thighs.
My shins.
My arms.
Name any body part, and I could guarantee it was aching.
Fuck.
Even my hair hurt.
Supernaturals, in general, tended to be more physically robust than our normal counterparts.
How-fucking-ever, I was not an overly physical man. I mean, sure I had muscles. But those were mostly from what I am, not what I did on the daily.
Over the past week, I’d used more muscles than I even knew I had.
I admit it. I was stuck, feeling foul as all get, and in a right nasty mood.
Angry.
Hungry.
Or maybe I was just hangry.
What with Mrs. O’Hare abandoning me and all, I was living on bologna sandwiches. I couldn’t even tell you what the fuck was in that father of all mystery meats, but it sufficed for now.
Oh, and goat cheese.
A lot of fucking goat cheese.
Ugh. My stomach turned.
My cell phone pinged, and I looked down, surprised to see I’d texted Avail sometime in the last several days that I wanted out of here.
I didn’t remember sending the text—oh wait. Yes, I did. It was after Betsy, my asshole of a horse, who even though he was a male horse, was named Betsy, had tossed me ass over teakettle.
I’d landed on a rock and had a bruise right on my left ass cheek for two straight days. With my supernatural healing abilities that meant it was one fucker of a bruise.
Yeah, I remembered that night. It was right after Emmet had laughed at me for putting the horse’s saddle on too tight. Well, I showed him. I rode that horse bareback now.
Take that douche canoe.
Betsy hated fucking around with saddles. And I was without one. Didn’t ride him very much now, anyway. Not ever since Jed showed me where the 4-wheelers were.
Another thing Emmet hadn’t mentioned. My phone pinged again, reminding me this fucker was just getting back to me now. Some cousin he was.
Avail
He even texted like an asshole.
I snorted and put my phone away.
Surprisingly, Jed had turned out to be a wealth of information about this place.
He’d been a hired hand since he was seventeen, and who the fuck knew how long ago that was?
Even Prairie Dog Shifters aged slowly compared to humans.
“See ya later, Boss. Gotta go check on Dolly,” Jed said after dropping off another fresh tub of goat cheese.
I’d learned Dolly was the name of all of Jed’s favorite milking goats and cows. He was a huge Dolly Parton fan, and this was his way of honoring her, I supposed.
Though, I was pretty sure naming an animal Dolly because of the size of their, uh, teats was probably sexist or something.
Anyway.
Apparently, the farm/ranch/whatever-the-fuck had a more than decent dairy operation. Using both milk cows and goats, old Jed had been making everything from milk, to butter, to yogurt, to cheese and selling it to local stores and restaurants, and sometimes at a table at the rodeo and farmers’ markets.
I planned to look into all that once I could feel my eyeballs again. Grunting, I nodded my thanks as he left and held an icepack to my pounding head. I felt beneath the cold plastic packet and sighed.
At least the knot on my forehead was going down.
Fucking Emmet and these goddamn interviews. I’d dealt with more supes in the last week than I had in my almost forty years walking this godforsaken planet.
Why I let the slick-talking Wolf onto my property, I would never know?
But, for some reason, not only had I allowed it. But I let the blond-haired fucker talk me into a trial period for him and the other hopefuls who wanted a place on this ranch.
Or farm.
Or whatever the fuck this was.
Motley Crewd.
I thought of the name Avail had used in that announcement he put in the only worthwhile supernatural newspaper.
It would have been funny if I wasn’t hurting so badly. A crude lot, we sure fucking were. But then again, who else would answer that kind of ad but a bunch of unmated males barely hanging on to their humanity?
The Shifters who’d answered my asshole cousin’s notice were hardly more than a bunch of roughnecks. Tough motherfuckers who knew their way around a place like this a helluva lot better than I did.
For the first time in my life that I could recall, I was stuck doing something I was absolutely not good at.
Like not at all.
And what did that say about me, really? That at almost forty years old, I still only did things I knew I would excel at.
Was I some kind of coward?
No. That wasn’t it.
But I never pushed myself before, and doing it now was a strange combination of angsty and exhilarating.
Even if my body ached like I was on my deathbed instead of in my prime.
Forty was prime, fuck you very much.
I was a Jersey Devil, not some human insurance salesman.
Still, I should be in better shape than this. Working outdoors the past couple of days had kicked my ass.
I hated to admit it, but the few Shifters who made it past the first couple of rounds of interviews were running circles around me.
A growl rumbled deep in my chest, and I rubbed my hand over that spot, trying to soothe my inner monster. My Devil side was bonding to this place, to this land.
I could feel it. The change growing inside of me, like the swell of the tide.
The only problem was it wasn’t enough.
The last quarter moon before my fortieth birthday was approaching and my Devil was hungry.
Not for food.
Certainly not for fucking goat cheese.
For my promised one.
My fated mate.
But where was I going to meet a woman out here? In the abandoned cornfields, for fuck’s sake?
I heaved a sigh and shook my head.
Grandmother was right about this place being good for me. Not that I would tell her that anytime soon.
My life before all this seemed so shallow and empty. The parties and the money and the women. I still liked pussy, but was I satisfied with meaningless encounters?
The short answer was no.
Fuck no.
Hell no.
I craved more from life than sex.
It was funny, just a week in this place had me craving more than a meaningless night with a stranger. That was the kind of thing I used to live for, but now it was repulsive to me.
The man I used to be.
The family estate I once called home.
The lifestyle I used to lead.
All of it seemed so foreign to me now.
This land was good. And as I made repairs to the house, I saw its true potential. It was big and strong, built for a family.
Suddenly, I wanted that. Very much.
A mate.
A child.
A real home.
I fought a grimace as I switched the ice pack to the other side of my head, moving my hand still hurt, too.
I’d hardly even made it onto the horse’s back before the miserable beast tossed me like a sack of potatoes. This morning, I started slow and helped Jed wrangle goats, separating the ones Emmet had instructed us to, into separate pens.
Admittedly, I was annoyed at the menial task, but the crafty critters were wilier than I’d anticipated.
Either way, there was no getting around the fact that getting head-butted in the balls by a goat named Dolly May fucking sucked.
Especially when the head-butter had horns.
I hissed a sharp breath as I tried to switch positions, having given up on this ranching madness an hour ago to ice my tender bits. Still, I could hardly move. My entire body felt beat up and sore.
The sound of the front door slamming open barely even jostled me.
What the fuck?
“Max? You here?”
I growled and closed my eyes as Emmet came sauntering into the kitchen where I’d gone to lick my wounds so to speak.
“There you are. Here, this is your Crew,” Emmet growled.
The Wolf shifter looked pissed as hell, walking into my house with his hands on his hips, dripping sweat and smelling like he stepped in a pile of manure before he got here.
I looked down at the trail of filth he’d left in his wake and my inner Devil seethed.
“What in God’s name are you doing, tracking mud all over the hallway? Out! OUT!” I shouted and hustled the man to the porch.
Not that I was some snobby princess who hated dirt or anything. But my housekeeper was another story—fuck.
I didn’t have to worry about that anymore. She’d already left me to my own devices.
“Sorry about the mud, Boss,” he seethed.
“But if I didn’t have to come all the way back here to find your city boy ass, I wouldn’t be dragging all this dirt through your fancy place and sweatin’ my balls off while I’m at it. Now here,” Emmet growled and slapped a handful of dirty applications onto my chest.
“I don’t even know why you’re so riled. Won’t your maid be cleaning this up for you,” Emmet said, his tone reeking of disgust.
“Mrs. O’Hare left. Grandmother needed her services elsewhere. Not that it’s any of your business,” I snarled back.
Emmet’s mouth hung open, and I watched in surprise as a look that closely resembled guilt and maybe even compassion crossed his face. He looked around the unkempt room and scowled.
“Damn, I had no idea. What are you doing for food?”
I grunted and pointed towards the fridge. The curious wolf opened it and frowned as he picked up one of the four sealed packages of bologna I had left.
“Goddamn, son. That shit will kill ya,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yeah well, it was the only thing I could make myself,” I replied.
“Fuck, man, I am sorry. No wonder you’ve been off your game,” Emmet said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You are what you eat, Boss. And it looks like you’re full of bologna! Ha ha ha!” he replied and grinned way too fucking widely at his own lame joke.
“Fuck off, Emmet. Wait. What do you want?” I mumbled, looking down at the papers in his hand.
He had piqued my curiosity.
“That’s it. Read it.”
“What’s it? Ugh, let’s see. Dante Bianco. Kian O’Malley. Zeke Gordon. Why are you giving me this list?” I asked.
“That right there is your Crew, Boss Man,” the Wolf replied.
Sarcasm dripped from his lips when he called me that just as easily as I could imagine drool dripping off his fangs when he was changed.
Fucker.
“Why them?”
“Why them? If you don’t know, then I guess I’ll tell you. Dante is the Bear Shifter you were working alongside of not two days ago, rebuilding the animal pens. He’s as big as a fucking house and strong as hell. Kian is the Bull Shifter. I reckon he’ll be useful with the farming side of this place. Bulls have an affinity for that kind of thing. And Zeke, well I don’t know what he is exactly, but the man has one helluva an effect on the animals.”
“He does?” I asked, surprised.
Emmet growled and shook his head, muttering something about idiots who didn’t pay attention.
I growled back.
I wasn’t an idiot.
Not usually.
Okay, maybe a little.
Fine. I fucking sucked at this.
I was bad at names and faces, and no, I hadn’t been paying much attention to the others. This was all so new to me.
But it was no excuse for me not doing my job.
Shit.
“Yes, he does. And you’d know that if you would’ve stuck around for the rest of the interviews and put in more than half a day’s work every day since I’ve been here,” Emmet grumbled.
“Half a day? I am out there from nine to five—”
“Nine to five? Does this look like a fucking office to you? Max, this is a working farm and ranch. You need to be up with the chickens and if your head hits the pillow before the last animal is fed, watered, and down for the night, then you are doing it wrong.”
Emmet shook his head at me, and waves of annoyance and frustration rolled off him, slamming me left and right.
As much as it annoyed me, he wasn’t wrong.
“Fuck. I can’t believe this. You’re absolutely right,” I admitted, and the Wolf snapped his green eyes to mine.
“I am?”
“You are. I don’t know shit about this life.”
“YOU can say that again,” Emmet said, his smile easier now.
“Yeah, well. Priorities, right? Look, I am giving you the foreman position or general manager, or whatever you want to call it. But I have to do sixty percent of the work here,” I told him, recalling the terms and conditions I had to meet to keep my trust fund.
“Why?”
“Because my Grandmother is a hardass. Now. will you stay on and help?”
“I can do that. But, uh, I need something from you, too. See, I’m a broken Wolf, Boss. No Pack wants me around. I need someone who can help me rein him in,” Emmet replied, voice low and gritty with his beast.
“And you think I can do that?” I said, stunned.
“I think so. The other fellas said the same. We don’t know what kind of supe you are. Most are guessing Vampire—”
“I’m not a fucking Vampire,” I replied quickly, and was mildly insulted.
“Okay, well, whatever you are, we think you can help. But you gotta hire us,” Emmet said, but he seemed to be asking.
I thought about it for a moment. Then I nodded.
“Okay. You’re hired,” I said, and was greeted by the sound of whooping and cheering outdoors.
Fuckers were listening. Standing downwind, too.
Smart. Very smart.
“Great! So, now that I’m the foreman, I can teach you what you need to know to keep this place in the black,” Emmet said.
“I am all ears. But first, I need some help in the house.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe you can help me make a list? First things first, I’m running out of bologna and clean jeans,” I muttered.
Emmet laughed, but I was serious. I mean, I didn’t even know how to use a washer machine.
“Alright, let’s shake on it. Motley Crewd Ranch is a go, boys,” Emmet said and offered his hand to the sound of the three monsters outside coming inside to witness our deal.
I looked around at the group of big, sweaty bastards, and I grinned. My Devil rose inside me, a wave of magic and power flowing through me as I shook each one of their hands one at a time.
Motley Crewd might be a fucked up name, but it was apt.
The Shifters who remained here were different from the others. I was different, too. And my different just took theirs on.
Whatever we just did, it tied us together. Our one commonality being the fact we belonged nowhere else but here.
We were all on our last chance. Jersey Devils didn’t have Packs or Clans. But maybe the fact that I was different meant I could?
“Okay, boys, I might not know much about running a place like this, but I swear to do my best,” I swore.
“That’s all we can ask, Boss,” Kian replied, and I nodded at the powerfully built male.
“By the way, your horse bit you for tossing straw into his stall,” Zeke said.
“Isn’t that what they eat?” I asked, confused.
My phone buzzed annoyingly, and I pulled it out of my pocket, frowning at the blasted thing.
“No. Well, sometimes. But you’re thinking about hay,” Emmet explained while Zeke rolled his eyes.
“Well, what the fuck is the difference?” I asked, not really paying attention as I read the message on my phone twice.
What? He can’t be serious. This motherfucker.
Max’s mouth curled, and a dark snarl erupted from his lips.
“And that is what you need to learn,” Emmet said, brows furrowing when I loosed that angry sound. “What is it? Bad news?”
“You could say that. Apparently, I didn’t do my share of the workload this week and as of this morning my grandmother’s lawyer has deducted a fine from my account.”
“A fine? How much—sixty thousand dollars? Holy fuck! Mr. Leeds, I do believe you swindled me when we negotiated my salary,” Emmet said, and whistled.
“Swindled you? Ha! Your salary is highway robbery. Didn’t even teach me the difference between straw and hay,” I muttered, annoyed but somehow lighter even after losing that money.
“Not if you can afford to lose that chunk of change,” Dante, the Bear Shifter rumbled.
“Yes, well, that is an unfortunate consequence of this little arrangement.”
“What exactly is your arrangement?” Kian asked.
“Okay, how about I explain it all over a dinner of, I don’t know, fucking peanut butter sandwiches since I don’t have enough bologna for you all?” I asked.
No, I had no idea what I was doing. But for some reason, my inner Devil was more excited than I could ever recall him being.
The other Shifters all looked at each other. And I wondered if maybe they were communicating in some way I couldn’t understand.
“We’ll do you one better,” Emmet said with a grin.
“Yeah, we’ll grill some fresh meat and vegetables, and you can see to the beer and dessert. Sound good?” Dante asked.
“We’ll have some dinner and establish a plan for getting this place solvent,” Emmet added.
“Um. Sure. I can do that,” I told them, surprised at how good it actually sounded.
Hope sprung eternal, wasn’t that what they said?
Well, for the first time in forever, I felt hope. Right in that moment.
The men all nodded and dipped their chins, walking out the door, and I followed, feeling elated.
I cast my gaze around the property, taking in the low afternoon sun.
It seemed to caress the landscape like loving hands, and a sense of pride filled me.
The Wolf nodded, following my gaze, maybe even seeing the promise I did when I looked at my land. He offered his hand as the others walked off and I took it.
“I’m gonna start the fire going,” Emmet told him.
“Guess I’m going to search for some pastry shops,” I replied.
“I think Mrs. O’Hare might’ve taken care of that for you. Check your email,” Emmet said with a grin.
I frowned and rubbed the back of my neck.
I opened my email and sure enough there was a message with a reminder to pick up an order that had been placed under the name MCR tonight at six—which was in twenty-three minutes.
Fuck. I still had to shower. I sighed and did a quick search of how far the place was.
Nineteen minutes.
I was going to have to skip the shower and get going.
No problem.
I washed my hands and face, changed my shirt, and gave myself a generous spritz of deodorant. Then I was good to go. I was a pretty resourceful Devil when I had to be.
I copied the address from the email and plugged it into my GPS, grinning when the automated voice announced my destination.
“Starting route to Devil’s Food Bakery.”
Well, wasn’t that a coincidence?
I started my truck, blasting Pantera’s Cowboys From Hell as I turned onto the street that would lead me straight into town.