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The ice-cream visit must have gone better than expected because Harper was cheerful during the ride to our new, albeit temporary, residence. Cheerful...and curious.
“You’re sure Butch isn’t your boyfriend?” Her fingers clung to the back of my seat as she pulled herself far enough forward to be heard over the rush of wind against our faces. I glanced at Harper’s waist to make sure she was wearing a seat belt before answering the nosy question.
“Positive.”
“You should reconsider,” Harper told me. “This car is pretty awesome.”
For the first time since I’d met him, I thought Butch might have sported a faint hint of a smile. But when I turned to look at him directly, all expression was gone.
“So Tank’s the one who has you all hot and bothered?” my sister continued, blithely ignoring the way her words heated my cheeks.
“I’m not hot and bothered,” I lied, smelling Butch’s amusement this time.
“Maybe she’s looking for a girlfriend, not a boyfriend,” Clara suggested as if the “she” in question wasn’t right in front of them. “Is Athena straight?”
“Not sure,” my sister answered. “I feel like I should know that....”
“I’m not looking for anyone,” I rebutted as the convertible pulled through a gate and stopped in front of what appeared to be a private campground. Meanwhile, my eyes proved me a liar when they flew directly to Tank.
He was manning a grill, shirt off to reveal muscles that were more mouthwatering than the meat he was tending. The latter, though, demanded all of his attention. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t bother to shield his face as Butch and I wrestled the girls’ extra-large suitcases out of the car.
Harper and Clara weren’t as intent upon their tasks as the rest of us. No wonder their eyes widened as they took in the shirtless male. No wonder they flinched as their gazes rose up to take in his face.
I tensed, remembering the shallowness of the museum teenagers. Harper opened her mouth and I closed my eyes...
...Only to reopen them as an unfamiliar female voice intruded on the scene. “Tank’s the best griller ever.”
The girl who’d spoken was a teenager—Kira? Yes, I decided. This had to be Tank’s pack mate. And, even though she wasn’t his daughter as I’d initially suspected, she was standing up for him against two other girls nearly her own age.
Not only standing up for him, literally standing between the other girls and Tank. Kira’s arms were so full of tupperware containers I could only see her from the nose up, but her eyes flashed with the intensity of a shifter protecting her pack.
So this was why Tank thought joining the Samhain Shifters was so important. This was the positive side of pack bonds. I took a step forward. “Do you need a hand with those containers?”
Kira shook her head, gaze not touching mine. Instead, she continued to stare down Harper and Clara until my sister gulped and muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Clara echoed.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Tank answered before either girl could elaborate. His hand touched Kira’s shoulder, one quick tap. In response, her face scrunched up in annoyance. But then she nodded and pasted a welcoming smile on her face.
“Either of you vegetarian?”
“I am,” Clara said tentatively. She was unaware of the shifter byplay that had chastened me and my sister, but she understood that something had just happened.
“Great!” Kira’s honest enthusiasm blew away the bad air between them. “We’ve got veggie kebabs here and soy dogs in the freezer. If none of that sounds good, I think there’re some tofu burgers, but they’re yuck. For dessert—s’mores!”
And even though Kira had refused my help, she lifted the top bin off the stack now to hand to my sister then passed the next down to Clara. “Should we put them on the grill?” Clara asked.
“The other one.” Tank pointed with his tongs at a second grill smoking gently on the other side of the walkway. “No meat-juice contamination.” Then, facing Butch, who I’d forgotten about in the midst of teenage drama: “Thanks for your help today. I owe you one.”
Butch shook his head. “Don’t thank me.” The words, sounded oddly formal, not the usual shrug-off of unnecessary appreciation. Without further explanation, he left us alone with the pile of luggage, heading for a cabin at the end of the row.
Awkwardness hung in his wake. The girls were busy, but Tank’s face was now averted. Averted from me, the only person close enough to pay attention.
Despite my best intentions to ignore this thing between us, I reached up to cup his jaw, pulling his face back front and center. “Don’t do that,” I ordered. Then, realizing how abrupt I’d sounded: “Please.”
Beneath my fingers, Tank’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “Alright. If you insist.”
***
IF MARINA’S TIMELINE hadn’t hung heavy on my mind, the rest of the evening would have been delightful. Ryder built a bonfire out back, which is where we all retreated once dinner was ready. The girls roasted s’mores, getting punchier the more sugar they consumed.
“Watch this!” Kira demanded, grabbing the open bag of marshmallows and spraying a couple of dozen into the air...then catching each one in an athletic feat that only a shifter would have been capable of.
“Ooh, I want to try!” Clara’s response, thankfully, was sidetracked by our leader rising and brushing off the seat of her pants.
“Training starts tomorrow at 7. Don’t stay up too late.”
Then Lupe was gone into the darkness while Harper’s head cocked in question. “Training?” Of the three teens, she was the only one still acting like a guest rather than a hooligan.
“Not for us,” Kira answered before I could. “We get to sleep in then laugh at the ‘dults in the morning.”
“Who you calling a ‘dult?” Ryder growled, grabbing Kira around the neck. Butch scooted sideways away from the tussle while I tensed, not liking the idea of the tattooed male manhandling someone halfway between girlhood and womanhood.
Tank didn’t like it either. He’d been browning a marshmallow for my sister, but the end of the stick stabbed into the ground so fast I didn’t see it leaving his fingers. His demand was barely audible but scarier for the low register.
“Don’t touch her.”
Abruptly, the air stank of fur.
Just like that, the mood soured. Firelight reflected off of wolves in both Tank’s and Ryder’s eyes now. We appeared to be seconds away from a lupine explosion.
I considered calling for Lupe but hesitated. Clara was unaware of the existence of werewolves while my sister had only heard about—never seen—our dark side. If I called in reinforcements, were Ryder and Tank more or less likely to go wolf?
“What’s your problem?” Ryder’s dark eyebrows lowered into a ridge of shadow. “She’s just a kid.”
“Yeah.” Kira was the one who broke the tension. Scrambling out of Ryder’s hold—looser now—she pressed up on tiptoes so she could kiss Tank’s cheek. “Use your nose, you big goof.”
“Your nose?” Clara asked. She and Harper were both wide-eyed, but for very different reasons. Clara was trying to figure out what was going on. Harper, I suspected, was shell-shocked by memories of Nick.
Not that her father had a wolf inside him. But he liked to fight. Boy did he like to fight.
And...Tank didn’t. He inhaled once, long and slow. Then the sharp bite of electricity faded. “My mistake.” He dipped his chin, acknowledging his error.
Ryder, to my surprise, didn’t push the issue. Instead, he was graceful in victory. “Apology accepted.”
“Who wants to learn to juggle?” Kira asked, as if we hadn’t barely evaded a wolf fight.
“Ooh, me!” Clara clapped her hands.
And, just like that, danger dissipated into the night.
***
WELL, THE DANGER HAD dissipated, but my sister was still edgy. She reached for her marshmallow then winced as Tank’s hand landed in the exact same spot.
“Sorry,” my sister began, yanking her fingers away as if the fire had reached out and burned them.
“Let me tell you something I learned during my first year as a lawyer,” Tank murmured, body unmoving as if Harper was a stray dog as likely to bite as to flee from him. “Never apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Sor—” my sister started, only to catch herself before she could spit out the word a second time.
Tank shrugged. “And ask for what you want. You want the marshmallow, or you want me to finish roasting it?”
“I—” Harper’s eyes slid sideways, seeking escape. But Tank just sat there, still and silent. And eventually she cleared her throat and spat out a complete sentence. “If you want, you can finish browning it for me.”
“Is that what you want?”
This time, Harper didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
So he reached forward slowly, gently, then twirled the roasting stick by infinitesimal fractions between strong fingers. Beside us, Clara and Kira dropped marshmallows onto the ground while trying to juggle, their laughter easy and infectious. Butch suggested they move closer to the firelight. Ryder made snarky comments that managed not to sting.
And Harper engaged, ever so gradually, with the roaster of her marshmallow. “What’s it like being a lawyer?” she asked, voice so quiet Tank could have pretended not to hear her.
But he didn’t ignore her. Instead, he answered the same way he would have answered an adult. “It’s empowering. Knowing the law lets you deal with bullies without resorting to fisticuffs.” His lips curled into a self-deprecating smile. “Which isn’t to say I always manage to remember to use my words.”
Harper glanced in my direction, and I got the distinct impression she didn’t want me to hear her next question. So I focused my eyes on the other girls’ juggling fiasco while straining shifter ears to their limit to pick out her opening gambit.
“Do you ever deal with custody cases?”
Tank nodded. “I do. They can be messy if there’s no clear evidence who should be a minor’s guardian.”
“How do you figure that out?”
I hesitated, wanting to be privy to the rest of this conversation. But Harper hadn’t wanted me to listen. All three girls were safe, and I had another engagement calling.
“Will you guys be okay if I catch up on emails?” I asked, rising off the log I’d chosen as my seat. My ankle didn’t twinge once.
“Sure.” Harper was too intent upon smashing hot marshmallows into melting chocolate to look at me, but Tank gave me his full attention. He glanced at the abandoned crutches, at me, then left whatever he’d been about to say silent. Offered a single nod instead.
He’d take care of Harper and Clara. He wasn’t hiding his face either.
So I left them there. One big, happy, temporary family.
Left them there and strode to the cabin on the end that Butch had come out of earlier. None of the doors here had locks, and Butch seemed like the sort who’d keep his car keys on a hook where they had no chance of getting misplaced.
I was wrong. A carved wooden shelf sat where I’d expected a hook to be. The shelf looked newer than the faded wall around it, intricate indentations turning what could have been simple braces into two trees holding up a cloud-shaped top.
The keys were right there, though. Easily accessible. Just what I needed since my own car was parked in front of my apartment where I’d left it before the museum gig.
It was stealing, but stealing was what I was good at. I grabbed the keys, borrowed the convertible, and headed back into the city to meet my boss.