C5

Thorne Matthews

"Yeah, whatever," I laugh, tossing a dry leaf at Ellis Johnson's head.

Before he can answer, our old mechanical carriage sputters loud, and the heat gauge shoots straight into the red zone. Ellis slaps the wooden dashboard hard with his palm. "Oh, come on! This raggedy piece of junk, I swear by the moon!"

I snicker, crossing my thick arms.

"I need to get my own hunting wagon because this is not it," he grumbles.

"You have to first keep a pack job long enough to buy one," I tease.

"Oh, you have jokes today, brother?" Ellis responds, laughing through his clear irritation.

By the time we pull into the Moonfang Harvest House parking lot, the front of the carriage is visibly smoking. Ellis reaches down, pops the lever, and jumps out into the cold air. "Son of a rogue," he mutters under his breath as he unlatches the front. He grabs a massive skin of well water from the back, marches over, and waits for the steam to die down before twisting the cap off. "How does a carriage run hot in this freezing weather?"

"Things that make your wolf go hmmm," I say with a shrug.

"Ask Frank Pratt if I can come back to work here," Ellis says, looking at me with big eyes. "I really need this extra food gold."

I lean my heavy shoulders against the side of the carriage, watching him. "You really think Frank is going to let you back after the last time he fired you from the feast hall?"

Ellis gives me a pointed look. "Tell him I will act right this time. He knew that outer-pack female wolf was trying me. Do not beg for my help outside just because your raw meat has wild pickles on it and then get your tail bitten. She should have just taken her bald-headed ass back to her own territory."

I laugh out loud, the sound booming in the cold morning. "You shouldn't have taken your crazy ass outside the kitchen."

Ellis waves his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't have touched her fur if she didn't point that tiny little claw right in my face. My wolf is not built for that kind of disrespect."

"Only you, Tan—only you," I say, shaking my head. "But I will ask him. Do not hold your breath, though. And thanks for bringing me to my shift."

"You better ask him, and you are welcome," Ellis replies, pouring the water into the tank and screwing the cap back down tight. "Good luck being honest with Ellis Boyd today, too."

"Who said I was saying anything to that male?"

"Brother, grow some balls and tell that wolf how you feel."

"I might," I mutter, looking away. "But it won't be today after knowing that boy just ran with Trudy Bennett last night."

"Well, you got a point there."

I roll my eyes but smile, waving my hand as I head inside the stone building.

The heavy smell of roasting meat and sweet frosted pastries greets me the second I walk into the Moonfang Harvest House. I mark my name on the log sheet, mentally preparing for a long day of serving hungry wolves. The iron bell above the door jingles, and I turn to see Frank Pratt walking in right behind me, looking freshly pressed in his black overseer tunic. At twenty-two winters old, he carries himself with an air of pure confidence that makes him seem like a seasoned warrior.

"Morning, Thorne," he says with a wide smile.

"Morning, Frank," I reply, busying myself with the wooden registers.

Frank leans his broad chest against the stone counter, his eyes lingering on my face. "I was hoping I would catch you before the lunchtime rush. You look good today."

My face burns hot, and I quickly focus on the ledger screen in front of me. "Thanks."

Frank’s smile gets even wider. "So, I have been thinking. Are you free tonight? We could go down to the Ironfang Feast Hall, grab something good to eat."

I hesitate, biting my bottom lip. "I don’t know. I will probably be completely exhausted after my shift."

"I will make it worth your while," he says, his tone playful but totally sincere.

"I will think about it," I respond, meeting his eyes for a split second before turning back to my work.

"Fair enough," Frank replies, stepping back toward the kitchens. "Let me know. Oh, and hey—Brenda Collins quit and Ellis Boyd will be leaving for the warrior capital soon, so if Ellis Johnson is still trying to get his job back, tell him he better promise not to punch any customers this time."

I laugh. "No promises, but I will let him know."

As he walks away, I cannot help but wonder if giving Frank a real chance might be exactly what I need to move forward from Ellis Boyd for real this time.

The soft hum of the large cooling boxes fills the air as I work the front counter, scooping sweet berry cream into a bowl for a little pup who can barely see over the top of the stone. The smell of sweet waffle dough lingers everywhere, sticking to my thick uniform fabric. The morning shift has been slow, and I do not mind at all. It gives my mind time to wander, though my thoughts are not much of an escape.

"Here you go," I say, handing the pup his bowl with a small smile. His mother nods at me before guiding him toward the heavy wooden door. I let out a long breath, pulling a damp cloth from under the counter to wipe down the wooden tables.

The dining area is nearly empty, except for an older wolf couple sharing a frozen treat at one of the corner booths.

While I am wiping down the wood, the iron bell jingles loud, announcing Ellis Boyd’s arrival. I glance up, and my stomach does that stupid, fluttery turning thing I absolutely hate. He walks into the hall like he owns the entire territory—tall, lean, and handsome as hell, filling out his overseer polo perfectly. And that smile—Goddess, that smile is so effortlessly beautiful.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Ellis Boyd says, his voice smooth as silk as he nods toward me, Frank, and Marielle Pratt, who is busy restocking the linen napkins.

Frank gives him a quick nod from where he is watching the chicken skewers fry in the back. Marielle perks up instantly, her lips curving into a massive grin. "Morning, Ellis Boyd!" she says, her voice dripping with sweet honey. She is always quick to try flirting with him, but Ellis Boyd never seems to notice, or maybe his wolf just does not care about her.

I mutter a quiet, "Wassup," and quickly look down at the table I just finished cleaning. My feelings for him have gotten so much stronger lately, and it annoys my wolf to no end. I hate how much I notice his scent, how much my heart beats when he is around, because I am pretty sure he does not see a heavy, thick male like me the same way.

As soon as the room feels safe, I grab my damp cloth and duck into the back storage room, my pulse racing way too fast. I hang the rag on the edge of the wash basin, grab my rolled herbal smokes from my leather pouch, and slip out the back exit.