Mine To Beg For

Not That Kind Of Thing

POV: Caelen

I made it four blocks before ordering my wolf to shut the hell up.

He didn't listen. He never did when she was involved.

I drove with the window down, letting the night air hit my face, and I still caught traces of her every time I shifted in the seat.

"Same time next week?"

I'd asked it like it didn't matter. Like I was just confirming a standing appointment, except I'd already known I'd be back before next Tuesday. That was the problem.

I'd had good s*x before. Three months of an arrangement with Odell hadn't changed anything fundamental. I still knew what a woman was, what it meant to desire one, the ordinary mechanics of that lack you feel after leaving her bed. This wasn't that.

The weight in my chest didn't have a name, and that was the scariest part. Because I wasn't just some stray, I was the Alpha's son. And we don't get to be lost for words.

She'd caught me staring, and that was against the deal.

'Don't make it weird.'

That had been her second rule, right after no flowers. I'd laughed when she said it, and she'd looked at me with those unimpressed eyes and said, "I'm not joking. I don't do weird. I do Tuesday nights. That's it."

And I'd agreed. I didn't want to push, as I was fairly certain she'd actually cut me off if I pushed too hard.

I hit the turnoff for the county road, Blackholt territory started about two miles ahead.

My phone rang.

Dax.

"Tell me it's not Bracket again."

"Well, It's Bracket again."

"f**k!"

"He claims the creek-boundary survey your father approved twelve years ago is no longer valid because the water table has shifted. I checked, and technically, he's not wrong. But he's using that "technically, I'm right" to try and take back four additional acres from the Halloway allotment, and Halloway is about two remarks away from challenging him openly. Which is the last thing we need six weeks out from the Gathering."

"Bracket wants a fight he can win on a small scale to avoid thinking about the one he can't win on a large one."

"That's what I told him. He didn't exactly appreciate hearing it from me."

"He won't appreciate hearing it from me any more. Set it up. My place, Thursday. And tell Halloway I want him there too. Not a representative. Him. In person. If Bracket wants to make his claim in front of witnesses, he can do it in front of the one person it actually costs him to challenge."

Dax exhaled.

"You want me there?"

"Of course. Always."

Dax and I had been running together since we were pups, long before either of us had a rank worth mentioning.

The pack house came into view and I parked in my usual spot, killed the engine, and sat there for a full thirty seconds with my hands still on the wheel.

It was a Tuesday. I'd just had s*x with the same woman I'd been having s*x with for three months. This wasn't unusual. This wasn't even interesting.

So why did I feel like I'd left something behind?

I pulled my phone out of the cup holder, my thumb hovering over her contact. Thinking of what I could say.

'Hey. I stared at you for five seconds too long earlier. No reason. Just felt like looking.'

'Hey. I'm sitting in my truck thinking about you and I can't figure out why.'

'Hey. I know the rule about no weird, but I think I might be weird anyway. Is that..'

I deleted it.

Locked the phone.

Tucked it in my pocket and got out of the truck like a man who had his priorities in order.

I was almost to the porch when Dax's voice cut through the dark from the direction of the barn.

"Back earlier than I thought."

I turned. He was leaning against the fence.

"Business ended early," I said.

"Business." He repeated. "Is that what we're calling her now?"

"I'm calling it business."

"You drove into human territory on a Tuesday night to get laid. That's not business, that's a hobby."

"She has a name."

"I'm aware. I'm also aware you haven't told me what it is, which means you're trying real hard not to sound like you give a shit."

I didn't answer.

"Anything interesting on the border report?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Same as last week. Tracks near the eastern line, probably rogues passing through. Nothing came of it."

"Let me know if it changes."

"Sure."

We both didn't move. We stood there in the dark, pretending we were just having a normal conversation, but I could feel the weight of everything I wasn't saying sitting between us.

"Your father called," Dax said finally.

"When?"

"An hour ago. Wanted to know when you'd be back."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him you were handling business."

I should have left it there. Said goodnight and walk inside.

But I didn't.

"Did he ask about anything specific?" I asked.

"He asked if you'd been spending time in human territory."

"And you said?"

"I said you were a grown man who doesn't check in with his beta about his personal life."

"And he believed that?"

"Believed it or not, it's the truth. I don't know what you do in your personal time. I'm not a f*****g babysitter."

That was a lie, and we both knew it. Dax knew exactly where I went on Tuesdays. He'd driven past the shop twice, just to check, and I'd never called him out on it because he'd never given me a reason to. But he wasn't going to volunteer that information to my father, and I wasn't going to ask him to.

"Thanks," I said.

"You ever going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He gave me a long, steady look. Letting me know that said he could see right through whatever front I was putting up.

"Sure you don't."

He walked toward the house, leaving me alone in the dark.

I stayed outside longer thinking about her face, that split-second when she'd caught me staring and snapped.

I'd given her nothing.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was Dax.

'Stop standing in the yard like a creep. You're making the wolves nervous.'

I typed back: 'f**k off.'

I went inside, headed directly to my room, and unto the bed. I slept off.

And my wolf stayed awake, restless and unconvinced, waiting for Tuesday as if it were the only day on the calendar worth counting down to.

-----

POV: Odell

The supplier had sent the wrong damn rotors.

I stood in the middle of the bay with the open crate at my feet and the packing slip in one hand. The part numbers matched on paper but the actual metal did not.

Sage leaned against the workbench, “ do you want me to call them?” she asked.

“No. I’ll do it.”

I already had the phone out. The guy on the other end recognized my voice immediately.

“Hi, this is Odell at Redline. Order 44821. You sent me the wrong rotors.”

“Let me pull that up real quick. Okay, yeah, I see the order. Part numbers match what we have on file.”

“The numbers match the packing slip. They don’t match the metal in the crate. I ordered the 330mm vented set for the Civic. You sent me the solid 300s.”

“Warehouse must’ve grabbed the wrong bin. It happens sometimes.”

“It happens too often than is acceptable. I need to sort it today. You are supplying a replacement set tomorrow Express Delivery, and covering the cost for it.”

“I can put in a replacement for Monday.”

"Monday means two cars on my lifts all weekend… two more disappointed customer who I had assured could have them back today… you’re getting that delivery put in the system with immediate effect for express delivery, you’re covering the cost for that and when those discs aren’t in my hands by 4 o clock tomorrow, you can watch me terminate all my orders with you and tell every independent shop in a fifty-mile radius exactly why.”

He paused andsaid gently, “I’ll put the order through myself. You’ll have tracking in twenty minutes.”

“Good.”

I hung up and tossed the packing slip onto the crate.

Sage whistled, “You were terrifying them”

“I’m being efficient.”

She grinned and went back to the Civic that had been waiting since yesterday. I liked Sage. She didn’t need hand-holding and she didn’t fill silence with chatter. She’d started as a part-timer two years ago and now she ran the front half of the shop better than most full-time managers I’d met. I paid her accordingly and left her alone to do the job.

I spent the next hour under a Honda, replacing a timing belt that should have been done six months earlier. The owner had ignored the ticking until it got loud enough to scare him.

By the time I rolled out from under the car, my phone had buzzed twice.

I wiped my hands on the rag and checked.

It was Caelen.

'Usual logistics. Same time next Tuesday. Same place.'

Then the last line:

'Looking forward to it.'

I typed back without hesitating.

'Looking forward to it? Since when do you look forward to anything that isn’t a clean exit?'

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

'Since the last time you told me to shut up and still came twice.'

'Don’t work too late.'

'You’re texting me at four in the afternoon to tell me not to work late. That’s new.'

'I’m full of surprises.'

'You’re full of something. See you Tuesday. Try showing up on time for once.'

'No promises. But I’ll try.'

I locked the phone and set it on the counter.

Sage walked past with a coffee and nodded at it. “Hot date?”

“Standing appointment.”

“That’s what I said.”

I gave her a look. She held up both hands in surrender and kept walking.