Zoe sat on the porch of her cute little rental house, breathing in the tangy salt air. It was a cold and drizzly October night, but she didn’t care much: compared to Denver and Fargo, autumn in Los Angeles felt pretty damn balmy to her, and she’d sit on this porch and look at and listen to the Pacific crashing away until she froze to the porch swing seat.
It had been this very porch that had decided her on this house, actually. She’d been stunned at the luxurious rental selection offered when she’d started looking around four months earlier, and she was still grateful that Wolf and the club had given her and Scars an incredibly generous budget for rent.
Oh, she’d been stubborn at first, quite naturally. Insisted to Wolf that she was going to pay her own way, find a place on her budget a
