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“Only by etiquette,” I said. “Not magic.”
Inside, the decor was simple, a mix of vintage outdoor prints and gear and North Woods kitsch. The wooden walls gleamed golden beneath brassy light fixtures. There was a couch in front of a fireplace and a dining table in front of a small kitchen. Thetable was small and forest green with matching ladder-back chairs, all of it well-worn, the corners rubbed down to pale wood from hands and feet and legs, the corners softened by others’ lives.
It smelled of woodsmoke and cinnamon and, beneath that, wolf. Magic and pine resin and loamy soil. The scents of wilderness and wild.
“Why did the resort fail?” I wondered, putting my backpack on the small kitchen island.
“They built the divided highway we came down,” Connor said, dropping his duffel onto the floor. “That pushed traffic off the scenic route, and hotels that weren’t close enough to the highway failed. The clan took advantage.” He looked up, gestured toward the hallway. “The bedroom’s down there. You can take that, and I’ll take the couch.”
I hadn’t been sure how we’d handle the sleeping arrangements, and appreciated that he was willing to make the sacrifice. But I didn’t need to be coddled. “We can flip for it.”
He pointed to the sliding-glass patio door. “That doesn’t have shutters, but the bedroom does. So this isn’t chivalry. Or not just.”
“In that case, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He smiled at me, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that we were alone together in a cabin in the woods of Minnesota.
“You want something to drink?” Connor asked.
I grinned at him. “Is it last night’s beer, or...?”
Connor grinned. “Local. Much paler than the Pack’s version.”
“Then I’ll take one.”
While he checked the refrigerator, I walked outside the small porch. Firepits along the curving lakeshore winked like jewels among tall and stately evergreens. And beyond them, the sound of soft waves filled the air.
I walked toward the lake, footsteps crunching over a mulchpath that ribboned along the shore. Water lapped, slowly and steadily, against the rocks, and crickets chirped in the grass nearby.
“It’s peaceful out here,” I said quietly when Connor moved behind me. “And shifters really like fires,” I said, gesturing toward the closest firepit, where Adirondack chairs circled licking flames.
“It’s part of lake life,” he said. He handed me a bottle, then clinked his against mine. “Fire keeps away the chill, smoke keeps away the bugs, and it’s a chance to connect with friends, especially when you’re preparing for a long winter indoors.”
I sipped the beer, liked it immensely. It was lighter and crisper and went down a lot easier than the Pack’s brew.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do with an entire growler,” I muttered, and caught his soft laugh.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I said. “But we aren’t craft beer aficionados. We drink cheap pink wine out of plastic cups.” I looked at him. “Did you know they make chocolate wine?”
His lip curled in distaste. “That’s disgusting.”
I laughed knowingly. “Oh, but it’s not. It’s delicious. At least until the second bottle.”
Connor offered a long-suffering sigh. “I’m going to have to learn you about good alcohol.” He shook his head. “Back to the point—if she didn’t like the beer, why did she take a growler?”
“Because she loves you guys. Generally,” I added. “Not you specifically. You drive her crazy.”
“Mutual.”
I smiled. “The Pack hired her for the mural, let her show it off at their party. She’s never had an easy time fitting with humans or Sups. The Pack gave her space to be herself, probably more than she even knows. I think that’s been good for her.”
“I think it’s been good for the Pack,” he said. “She’s a pain in the ass, but manageable.”
I chuckled, sipped.
