I mean, I was an asshole earlier today—but right now, what did I do?
Is it illegal to pretend to be a firefighter?
I mean, strippers do it.
Then Sam’s there with Gabe, who looks mad enough to have steam coming out of his ears. Sam picks me up off the ground, checking me over, and hissing at the scrapes across the palms of my hands from where I hit the ground. His reaction is confusing at best, more so when he moves me over to sit me down on a running board of the truck.
He stalks over to where his brother is laying on the ground looking dazed, and before anyone can react, he grabs the guy’s jacket, pulls him off the ground and knocks the everloving shit out of him.
Everyone reacts. Gabe and Xan go to restrain Sam, Leo picks Joseph up off the ground. The tall alpha’s mouth is set in a tight line as he looks over the asshole with the now busted lip. I have no idea what the hell I landed in the middle of, as I sit here in the dark, freezing my ass off, watching this fucking circus. Thankfully the fire is finally out, but these poor people don’t need all this shit in their goddamned front yard while they’re trying to deal with everything else.
Looking over at the family in question, they seem less bothered than the situation calls for. Maybe random street brawling is common in this area, but they look like they’d be set if they just had a blanket and a bucket of popcorn. What a fucking shitshow. I walk over to where Sam's sandwiched between Xan and Gabe, there’s quiet talking between the three and Sam’s knuckles look a bit worse for wear. I open my mouth to ask what happened. “Hey, um…if you have a first aid kit around here, I can patch your knuckles up, that’s gotta sting like crazy in this cold.”
I am an idiot.
Fucking certifiable.
Why did I just offer to do that?
All three of them are now staring at me, their faces ranging from disbelief to laughter. Xan is the first to react, doubling over in a fit of giggles. At least he finds the situation amusing. Gabe grumbles something low and growly, the only part I manage to catch is, “missing our fucking honeymoon for this shit,” before he stomps over to where Leo and the police officer are talking to Joseph. I should probably learn more about the guy who wants to beat the shit out of me for unknown reasons.
I’ve had plenty of guys that want to beat the shit out of me before, but there’s usually some sort of antecedent…I’ve never even met this asshole before tonight, at least not that I can remember. Finally, Xan straightens up, wiping a tear from hiseye and grinning like a lunatic. “Shit, Sam, looks like you better take junior here home, it’s after his bedtime. Let’s go see if Paul can give you two a ride back to the station while we finish up here, yeah? Oh, and tell Kelly we’re not open tomorrow, nobody in their right mind is gonna be out in this shit.” He walks away, still laughing quietly, while I try to figure out how to apologize for whatever I did to piss people off today.
“Listen, Sam, I don’t know what I did. Seriously, I was just sitting in the truck, trying to stay out of everybody’s way since I wasn’t needed. There was yelling and banging and when I stuck my head out the door your brother started yelling at me. I don’t know who pissed in his cornflakes this morning, but—no offense—the man’s got issues.”
Sam lets out a loud bark of laughter. “Yeah. Yeah, he does kid. Listen, you didn’t do shit. Like I was saying in the truck on the way over, he’s pissed off that I formed a pack with Teddy and Kelly. Teddy’s his omega’s baby cousin, and well…I’m not exactly a spring chicken. Apparently, it’s embarrassing to him, and you showing up with me put you in his crosshairs.”
My thoughts go red at the thought of someone disrespecting Kelly. I totally did it earlier, but we’ve already established that I’m an asshole, and I’m trying to apologize. Would it make me a stalker if I said I was just going to keep apologizing until she accepts it. Yeah, that probably sounds more than a little creepy.
Also, it’s a bit more information that he gave me on the drive, especially about Teddy being related to his brother’s omega. Maybe that’s why Joseph looks so damned familiar. Maybe I met him with Teddy when we were younger.
Sam seems to be waiting for an answer—possibly some judgment on his pack’s relationship—he looks like he’s braced, ready for me to be disgusted by him, but I’m going to have to disappoint him. Shit, I love Kelly, and my brother loves Teddy, it’s not like I don’t understand his reasoning. As for being old…“Wait, how old are you, Sam? I would have pegged you for mid-thirties, maybe late thirties going by the gray.” Now I’m just being an ass on purpose to get him out of his head. He looks good—if I was into men, I could see the appeal of the rugged lumberjack vibe he has going on.
He lets out a low chuckle. “Let’s go see if Xan sorted a ride for us, and get back to our beta and omega?” I almost trip over my own feet at what he just said, calling them ours instead of his. We aren’t a pack, but maybe since Joseph lumped us in together, he feels like we need to present some sort of united front. I don’t understand it, but I’ll take the amiable Sam over the pissed off angry Sam any day of the week.
Chapter 37
Aloudly whispered argument wakes me up. Teddy’s voice sounds angry, and the other one is whining enough to make me want to kick him off the bed and snuggle back up to the warm. But there isn't any warm. My head pops out from under the blankets, and I stare blearily around the slowly lightning room. Teddy's standing in the open bathroom door. His arms gesture angrily as he whisper-shouts at someone on the other side. No one else is visible, and I slide out of my pocket of coziness and pad in the opposite direction, towards the door to the hallway.
There’s no telling what those two are arguing about. But an irate Teddy is better than a crying Teddy, and if he’s dealing with Steve then the guy deserves to get some anger thrown his way. Jake’s laying outside the door, and I almost trip over him in my attempt to sneak out. He hops up clumsily and presses his whole body into my legs, his big brown eyes looking up at me longingly. Before I’ve had a chance to give him any sort of ear scratches, his head cocks and he bolts down the stairs, his tail doing its best impression of a helicopter.
The front door opens just before we reach it, and Sam and Garret trudge in looking disheveled. Garret’s almost knocked over in Jake’s need to get outside. Both men have snowflakes in their hair, andnota light dusting. How did they get that much just coming from the truck? I catch the door before Garret can close it and look outside. There are huge white flakes still coming down, and the front porch has mostly disappeared under a drift. Two trenches are made though leading from the truck, which is already collecting a new layer.
Shivering, I close the door and turn to see if there is any way I can help. “Would you like me to fix you some coffee or tea? Something to help you warm up?” They’ve both taken off their coats, and Sam is hanging them up in the closet by the door to the basement. He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, hot tea sounds good. Let me go let Jake in the back, then I’ll get cleaned up and start breakfast. Sound good?” The man offers to cook for me and take care of me and wants to know if that’s ok? Of course that’s ok!
I’m still gonna get the tea pot started while he’s getting cleaned up though. Maybe I’ll make pancakes if he takes long enough…and has buttermilk. You can make pancakes without it, but why would you want to?
It still feels like intruding when I go through Sam’s pantry looking for ingredients. Pretty sure I’m officially moving in, but it’s so well organized and I feel like I’m rifling through some sort of pretty show house that no one actually lives in because it’s too clean.
Of course, the problem with making pancakes is everybody likes them differently. Mom makes hers super fluffy, which is good, but I can’t eat more than four ’cause they’re so big. Dad makes his really flat, but they have an amazing tangy flavor that he says comes from adding yogurt. The ones I’ve gotten a few times at the diner are pretty standard, not great, but not bad.They have a tiny hint of vanilla, but I think they use a mix, so that’s off the table. Sam doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who keeps pancake mix in his house. He said he doesn’t like to cook for himself, plus it seems to be against his fancy cooking to keep something “ready to make”.
Maybe I should call Dad and ask for his recipe.
Nah, he’s either getting ready for work, or sleeping in with the snow.
I could look one up on my phone.
Those are always a crapshoot.
