Tate
The late afternoon sun streamed into the office, casting patches of warm light on the desk. Tate was leaning against the bookshelves behind the desk, his eyes on Kelly, who was sitting in the office chair, facing him. A notepad sat on her lap, ideas about what to put in each email listed out, some scribbled over. Kelly tapped the end of the pen against her leg as she bit her bottom lip, thinking. He had to admit that most of her ideas so far had been gold. It was just a matter of narrowing the list down and composing the emails now.
“How would you address an alpha from a different pack?” she finally asked as she lost her grip on the pen and watched it fall to the ground.
“I wouldn’t worry about addressing the email to anyone,” he replied, squatting down to retrieve the pen. “It w
