She looked at him now with such curiosity that he matched her gaze with an intense stare. What? he implored.
I was just thinking there are probably icebergs in the Arctic the same color as your eyes.
Wow. Look who just got their flirt on.
I wasntuh...
He waited for her to realize that she had indeed been flirting. Didnt take her long. She busied herself with the ends of her hair. Ha! She liked him.
So what do you do, Daisy Blu with the kitty ears who wanders about with her nose in a book?
You mean like work? I am a budding journalist.
Is that so?
Im competing for a freelance position with the Tangle Lake Tattler. Ive always wanted to be a writer, but Im not so good at making up stories. I like digging for facts, learning the truth.
A noble pursuit. So what truths have you dug up lately?
Well, Mrs. Olafson, who lives at the corner across from the courthouse? Shes growing marijuana in her backyard shed.
Beck faked a shocked openmouthed gape. Could he touch that pink hair? Just a careful slide of his fingers over it without her noticing? Because if she wanted to flirt...
Thing is, she has no clue what it is. I couldnt bring myself to actually write about it. Besides, Ive got a bigger, better story Im working on that I know will win me the job.
Much luck to you. Isnt often you hear of pack princesses working.
No one calls me princess unless they want a black eye.
Duly noted. So youre the modern working-class priner, wolf chick, eh?
Im half faery.
Is that why your hair is pink?
No one will ever pull one over your eyes.
A faery wolf. I like it.
So what do you do? You said youre not from Tangle Lake?
No, Im up in Burnham. I have a garage just off the highway. Its not open to the public yet. Im working on some friends cars right now. Want everything to be perfect and have a career plan in place before I put up signs. I get a lot of business just by word of mouth anyway.
If I drove more than once every few weeks, Id bring my car to you just because you were so nice to share your last sip of cider. She handed him the cup, empty, and served him a wide grin that teased him for a kiss.
But that would be too risky. Her father was a pack leader. And princess or not, Beck knew she wore a flashing no touch sign as a tiara.
I should have bought two cups. He snickered and leaned his head back against the trunk. So journalism is a full-time job?
Hardly. Only a few hours here and there. When Im not pursuing a career, Im also a sculptor.
Thats cool. You enter the ice sculpture contest?
Next year. Thatll give me the winter to learn how to use a chain saw.
It wasnt difficult to imagine her wielding a chain saw. Not after that powerful right hook shed served him in the field. She was petite but packed a punch. What do you sculpt?
Anything with recycled metal. My dads a blacksmith. I used to watch him forge swords when I was a little girl. Always wanted to be able to manipulate metal the way he did. One day when he was welding on his old truck, I asked to help, and Ive been welding my designs ever since.
Welding? That sounds macho.
Yeah? Daisy bent up her arm, making a fist. An impressive bicep bulged beneath the sleek white winter coat. I grew up with four brothers. I dont think I could do feminine if I tried.
Youre doing it right now. Beck traced a strand of her hair back over her ear. Score! It felt as soft as it looked. She flinched and gave him the curious eye. Sorry, just wanted to touch it.
Its hair, dude.
And youre kind of defensive, you know that? Is it because of the you shouldnt talk to an unaligned wolf thing? Or is it that I just dont appeal to you?
You appeal to me, she said quickly. She sat up, tilting her head down and closing her eyes. Shaking her head, she said, I didnt mean to say that. It just came out.
You like me, Beck teased. He dipped his head to catch her straying gaze. Its because I seduced you with brownies, right?
She punched him playfully on the biceps. Beck winced. It hadnt been quite as gentle as she may have intended it to be. So he fell over to his side and moaned.
Yeah, and dont you forget it, Daisy said.
The sass that ran through her veins just needed a little prodding to rise above what he suspected was a bit of a shy streak. He hadnt seen her talking to anyone here at the festival. And if she had a boyfriend, she wouldnt be talking to him right now.
So what do you sculpt? he asked, moving closer so their shoulders touched.
Anything that Im feeling at the moment. Im working on a project for the wolf sanctuary up north. I use lots of abandoned scrap metal. Right now Im into recycling bicycle chains.
Really? I have a whole box of bicycle chains at the shop. Theyre yours if you can use them.
Of course I can.
Stop by anytime and pick them up. Im at the shop most of the day, and if not, Ill let Sunday know theyre yours.
Sunday? You mean Dean Mavericks wife?
Yep. Sunday used to have a shop when she lived in North Dakota. Shes a gearhead like me. My shop is the only place shes got to get her grease on.
And her husband doesnt mind?
Deans a cool guy. We chat when he stops by to pick up Sunday. Not all in the packs are against the lone wolves like me, you know.
Im not against you. I just dont understand why you dont feel the need for family that a pack offers.
I have family with my mom and my He hung his head. Now was no time to step into that bleak memory. You want another brownie?
No, thank you. I should get going. I promised my mom Id stop by with some treats from the picnic.
You going to the fireworks later? he asked.
Possibly. Will you be at your shop this afternoon? Maybe I could stop by for the bike chains?
Ill be there in a few hours. But this is the dealIll give you the chains if youll watch the fireworks with me tonight.
She crossed her arms and made a show of considering it. Her lips were the same shade as her hair. Beck bet if they kissed, shed taste cool like ice but would warm him up faster than smores melting over a bonfire. Would she really turn down his offer? She seemed independent, yet certainly she was shy.
I might have a brother along with me. Kelyn and I always watch the fireworks together. We usually find a quiet spot at the top of a hill.
Oh. Well, I wouldnt want to intrude. Nor did he want to bring the wrath of the Saint-Pierre family upon him for talking to their precious daughter.
Well play it by ear. Ill stop by your shop later, and then we can decide, yes?
Sure. Im north on 35.
Ive seen the shop. I know where it is.
She took off, tugging the book out of her back pocket as she skipped across the snowy field that hugged the rink where the men slapped the hockey puck back and forth.
Beck stood and brushed the snow from his jeans. First date with one of the brothers as chaperone? I dont know about that.
Beck stood and brushed the snow from his jeans. First date with one of the brothers as chaperone? I dont know about that.
Chapter 3
Becks shop was about ten miles out of city limits. The next town, Burnham, was four miles beyond his shop. Daisy knew the Darkwood was in the vicinity. Her brother Blade lived at the edge of the haunted forest that locals told tales about. Even the paranormal breeds avoided it for its fearsome reputation.
Though the road was hugged by tall birch trees interspersed with thick pines, Daisy found Becks shop easily and pulled in her Smart car before the shops opened garage doors. While most fix-it garages in the area featured random junkers parked here and there, tires stacked against walls and general disorder, this area was well-tended. The snow had been plowed and banked, and there was an orderly parking area with cars tagged on the license plates, likely for pickup.
Stepping out into the brisk air, Daisys breath fogged before her. Shed bundled up in cap, mittens and winter coat. Striding toward the opened doors, she scanned for signs of life inside and called out Becks name. Instead of a handsome werewolf popping his head up from behind the raised hood of a truck, the blond dreads of a very familiar familiar swung around the front quarter panel of a red F-150.
Sunday winked at Daisy. Hey there, sweetie!
Sunday! Beck told me you worked here, but I didnt expect to run into you. Daisy looked about the neat shop that featured four car bays. Tools hung neatly along the walls, and tires were stacked in a corner. There were even red-and-white-checked curtains on the door window that must lead to the office. Does Dean mind that you work here?
The self-confessed grease monkey laid a wrench on the engine and wandered around the side of the vehicle. Grease smeared Sundays pale check. Daisy had known her since shed been born because of the cat-shifting familiars friendship with her grandmother. She considered her an aunt, even. Of all the women in the family, she got along with Sunday best. Probably because they were a couple of tomboys.
Why should Dean mind? Sunday asked. I dont let my man tell me what to do. Unless its in bed. She winked.
Daisy fought against rolling her eyes.
So why are you here? Sunday asked. Shouldnt you be more respectful of your father and his very obvious dislike for an unaligned wolf?
My dad doesnt know Im here. And you wont say anything to him.
Sunday quirked a brow, but her easy smile held the kind of knowing that all women shared when a man was the topic. Theres nothing to tell. Becks a good guy. Just because he doesnt feel comfortable joining a whole group of wolves after living in a small family his entire life shouldnt make him a pariah.
Exactly, Daisy said, relieved that Sunday had put into words what she should have said.
Behind the car bays, a big-screen TV flashed a news report that featured area gray wolves scampering across the screen.
Sunday noticed Daisys interest and turned up the volume with a remote she tugged out of her pocket. The report was on the local wolf hunt. It had only been a few years since the DNR had passed legislation to allow hunters free rein on the gray wolves that had been removed from the endangered species list.
Thing was, the mortals didnt care what happened to the environment when they reduced the wolf population. Not to mention the devastation to the wolf packs. They were killing wolves that belonged to families. Fathers, mothers and pups. And the loss to the pack was no less heartfelt than a loss to a mortal family. Of course, the hunters never looked at it that way.
It made Daisy think of Becks loss again. Poor guy.
So, having car trouble? Sunday prompted. I wouldnt be caught dead in one of those clown cars. I cant imagine it has traction on an icy road.
I try not to drive too much in the winter. But no trouble, as far as I know. I wish I was mechanically inclined like you. None of my brothers are, either.
Not like they need it, Sunday said. Those Saint-Pierre boys are too fine to get all greasy fixing engines.
Whatever. Im just here to pick something up, Daisy said, trying to ignore the news. Though she shouldnt. This was her story. But she was distracted by the obvious. Im not here for, you know, a date or anything.
Whats that about this not being a date? Beck rounded a yellow sports car (sans windshield) at the end of the shop. A large cardboard box was hoisted on top of his shoulder. I thought we were going to the iceworks tonight?
Sunday tilted another eyebrow quirk at Daisy, and it was accompanied by a knowing smile. So much said. Daisys neck flushed warmly.
We hadnt confirmed that. Are those the bicycle chains? she asked, to change the subject.
Beck set the box on the floor before the pickup, and both Daisy and Sunday bent to inspect the contents. Dozens of chains slicked with grease snaked within the box.
This is awesome, Daisy said. I can use these.
Best way to get the grease off is with Simple Green, Sunday said.
I know. Ive done it before.
Hows your art stuff coming anyway? the familiar asked.
My work in progress is turning out a lot cooler than Id hoped. I plan to donate the finished piece to the wolf sanctuary up in Ely.
Cool.
And now with these, Ill be able to finish it sooner than expected. Thanks, Beck.
Daisy swung around toward Beck, arms out as if to hug himher family hugged a lotthen she paused, and dropped her arms. Right. Not ready for that kind of contact. At least, not in front of the familiar.
Uh, how much do you want for them?
Ive already stated my price. Beck crossed his arms and peered down at her with his arctic-ice eyes.
He meant accompanying him to the fireworks tonight.
Daisy blew out a breath that fogged before her, even standing within the garage. Attending the midnight iceworks near the ice castle on the lake was a family tradition. And the only way to really enjoy it was to bundle up, snuggle next to another warm body and sip hot chocolate from a thermos. She could completely imagine doing that with Beck.
She glanced to Sunday, who put up her palms and strode around the front of the hood, disappearing from view. Not listening, the familiar called out. But check out the news.
Both swung their heads toward the TV, where the female newscaster was talking about the ghost wolf that had been scaring hunters witless. A pair of hunters had sworn off hunting for wolves and anything else, including deer.
The thing was big and nasty, one of the hunters said to the camera. He gestured widely with his red flannel-coated arms. And white and filmy like a freakin ghost.
Beck chuckled. Ghost wolf. Thats a good one.
Daisy wished she could have been the one to interview the hunters.
But it was solid! the other hunter chimed in on a shaky voice. It slapped the shotgun right out of my hand. I aint never hunting again.
Becks smile captured Daisys attention. He was proud of what the ghost wolf was doing. Either that or he was amused by the redneck hunters getting their justice and repenting. Both were good reasons to smile, in Daisys opinion.