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“Hey, Tanner, it’s—”
“I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now—”Fuck. Voicemail. “—as I’m away for a week at a conference. If you need assistance before I return, please call the Portland Howling Residence at this number”—he rattled off the digits and Finn scrabbled a pencil stub out of his pocket to jot them on a napkin—“and someone will help you right away. If you can wait, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you at my first opportunity. Thank you.”
Finn disconnected before the beep, because fuck if he was going to beg over voicemail. But now what?
While he could probably last another week spending his nights as a wolf and showering at the Y, he really couldn’t facehuntingas a wolf, and after today’s tea, he wouldn’t have money for anything else.
Maybe he should bypass the tea this morning. Not that three bucks would get him very far anywhere else, but at least his wallet wouldn’t be totally empty.
He glanced down at the napkin. The pencil had torn it in two places when he’d scribbled the number, but it was still legible.There goes another excuse.
The Portland Howling Residence—aka, the Doghouse. Would someone there be able to help him? The other guys from Tanner’s Howling knew a little too much about Finn’s dad, not to mention Finn himself. Tanner didn’t live at the Doghouse anymore, though, so maybe the guys who knew him would have graduated too. Besides what other option did he have?
So he dialed the number. The call connected right away, but instead of a greeting, there was a clatter and a muffledwoof. Then the sound of unmistakable fumbling, followed by a very young-sounding voice.
“Hello, this is the Doghouse and I’m Noah—”
“Noah,” said another, older voice, “what have we said about answering the phone?”
“But it wasringing, Jordan, and you were in thebathroom.”
“It rang one time, and I was already— Oh, crap.” More fumbling. “Hello?”
“Sorry,” Finn mumbled. “Wrong number.”
He hung up.Jordan. He was one of Tanner’s friends. He’dbeen therethat day at Wildwood, when Finn’s father had shot him and tried to kill Tanner. That was a little too close to the bone for Finn to handle. But again, what other option did he have? He had no room for stupid pride anymore.
He sighed, letting his forehead drop against the cracked screen in his hand. Maybe if he—
“Here you go. Your usual.”
Finn startled, breath catching, rearing back in his chair as an enameled tray complete with teapot and cupthlicked onto the table in front of him.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Gary gazed down at him from those dark, dark eyes, his teeth denting his full lower lip and his black curls tumbled across his forehead. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Oh shit. Now he didn’t have a choice but to pay, anddouble shit—there was a cinnamon twist on the little tray too. He definitely didn’t have the cash to pay forthat.
Despite alarm rolling around his middle like a tumbleweed, though, his heart warmed.Gary knows my usual. Unless it was Melina, since she was the one who usually took his order. But he’d never ordered a pastry so—
“Are you okay?” Gary sank down in the chair opposite him. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re looking a little rough.”
Finn chuckled weakly and ran his hands through his too-shaggy hair. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I don’t mean to bring down the ambiance around here.”
Gary frowned, and eventhatwas beautiful. “That’s not what I mean by rough. I mean, you look a little upset.”
In the face of Gary’s obvious concern, the last remnants of Finn’s pride crumbled. “I, um, got a disappointing email this morning. It’s… not good.”
“You’re not the only one. Nothing like starting the morning with crummy news to really set the tone for the day, right?” Gary glanced down at the tea tray. “Shoot, I shouldn’t have assumed. Maybe you were going to order something different today.”
Fuck it. “Actually, I’m not in a position to order anything.” He tapped his back pocket. “I can’t pay. I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have come in at all. I should go.”
He struggled to rise, his chair screeching against the tiles as he pushed it back.
“No. Please.” Gary reached across the table and grasped Finn’s forearm. “Don’t go.” He nodded at the tray. “This is on the house.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Not like I can serve it to anybody else. If you don’t accept it, I’ll have to toss it.” He widened his eyes in total faux innocence. “That’s the finest Assam and one of my signature pastries. You wouldn’t want towastethem, would you?”
