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But I knew Briony wouldn’t have it any other way.
Her pupils are wide, and her mouth is rounded in an adorable little ‘o’ shape. I can see her breasts rising and falling under her t-shirt.
It takes actual effort to keep my gaze on hers.
The chainsaw rips again, and I look outside. The road crew is getting to work on the tree, chopping it into smaller pieces that I assume will become firewood.
Shit. We need to talk about that. We need to say something about the fact that we were almost kissing.
I gulp. “Briony…”
Her phone rings. With shaking hands, she picks it up. “Hello?”
She’s breathless.
Any trace of lust fades from her, though, when the person on the other end of the phone speaks.
Her eyes widen with shock, and her eyebrows pinch with worry. I can’t quite make out what the other person is saying, and then Briony nods. “We’re coming,” she says.
She cuts the call off and motions to the road. “We need to go.”
“Where, Briony?”
“The foxes. There’s a crowd of people out there harassing them.”
“What?”
She waves her hands at me. “Drive!”
I put the van into gear, and we roar out onto the dirt road. “What the hell is going on?”
Briony’s fingers run through her hair, her face pinched with worry. “I don’t know. Did Thorne clear this whole refugee thing with the pack council?”
I wince. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
“I mean, I’m not sure he took it to the council. He heard about the crisis, he accepted their bid for sanctuary, and we went straight to your house.”
Briony’s jaw drops. “Are you serious? He didn’t put it to a vote?”
“No, of course not. People were in trouble, Briony. Thorne’s too soft-hearted to just let them suffer.”
“I’m pretty darn soft-hearted too, but I know if I don’t go through the proper channels, people in our pack aren’t exactly going to welcome them with open arms!”
“Well, that’s what you were going to do!” I say, a little louder than I meant.
Briony blinks. “What?”
“You’re the social worker. You’re supposed to get them settled in!”
“Do you know what a social worker does?”
Oh no. I speed around a corner, and the van creaks. I have no idea what a social worker does, but when Thorne said he wanted someone to help the foxes socialize with our pack, my mind (and his, to be fair) had immediately gone to… our social worker.
“Yes?” I say hopefully.
Briony hisses. “I’m a social worker. I make sure people’s basic needs are met, and that they’re not suffering. I’m not a politician or a damn wizard!”
