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“Well, I didn’t wanttoomuch peace.” Reardon glanced at Brandy. “Too much peace would be boring.”
Brandy’s cheeks colored nicely, and Reardon got the impression her mind was following his down a possible path for them both that would definitely not be boring.
“I hate being bored,” Dylan said.
“So do I,” Chella added, sounding like a person Dylan’s age rather than Parker’s.
“Fortunately, you have me, my dear,” Parker said, nuzzling Chella’s cheek with his nose. “I am anti-boredom.”
“Humble too.” Brandy winked at him, and again, Reardon wanted that attention directed toward him.
“You never would have made it through college without my anti-boredom strategies,” Parker said. “I should write a book.”
“Yeah, a coloring book,” Brandy shot back, earning a laugh from the group.
“Coloring books are popular right now,” Chella said. “I bought three of them online yesterday.”
Brandy regarded Chella then slid her gaze to Parker. Her eyebrow slowly rose above her right eye. Reardon got the impression she was communicating with Parker without words.
What message is she sending?He would have loved to know because he definitely sensed some tension along with the message.
Parker narrowed his eyes at Brandy then turned his attention back to his plate. “So Dylan, I was up at Mrs. Rangeley’s farm yesterday and she has five more dwarf goats that need naming. She wanted to know if you have any suggestions.”
“Do you have any pictures of them? I need to see them to name them.”
Parker nodded. “They are on my phone. I’ll show you later and we can text her some options.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the meal passed with what Reardon assumed was normal family conversation. Topics like the high summer temperatures expected next week, when Dylan was going to camp, new books Meredith ordered for the library, and how Parker planned to do the wolves’ annual physicals were discussed. Reardon listened mostly, not loving that last topic much, considering he was technically one of Silver Moon’s wolves. He’d have to think of a way to get out of that experience if he could. It was one thing to have Parker tend to him when his leg had been broken. It was another to have the thorough veterinarian poking around his body.
Everyone pitched in to clean up then Brandy served something delicious calledbrownies. The group had moved to the patio behind Brandy’s cabin and Parker lit a fire in a small stone pit. Cricket song mixed with the hiss, crack, and pop of the flames. Shadows danced all around everyone. Moonlight filtered through the trees.
Reardon couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening. He didn’t want it to end, but soon Parker and Chella were saying their goodbyes. Meredith was ushering Dylan inside to pack up some of his things to stay with her for the night.
Brandy hadn’t moved from her position across from Reardon, flames still flickering in the fire pit between them. Did she want him to go? Did she want him to stay? He had no idea what current etiquette called for in this situation. Was it rude of him to linger?
Did he care if he were rude? He definitely didn’t want to leave. Not yet.
“Do you like whiskey, Reardon?” Brandy leaned forward, the firelight making her hair glow. She looked even more like a fairy lass now.
“Aye.” In fact, he’d been tempted to bring that instead of wine, but the storeowner convinced him wine was a better selection for a dinner event.
Brandy got to her feet and walked around the fire pit, stopping to stand in front of him.
He made a move to get to his feet, but she gently touched his shoulder and nudged him to stay in his seat.
“You don’t have to rush off anywhere, do you?” she asked.
“Not unless you wish me to.”
A slow smile turned up her lips. “I don’t wish you to. I’ll be right back.”
He looked over his shoulder as she slithered through the darkness and disappeared into the house. Anticipation ran wild throughout his body. He wanted to howl at the moon, but contained the urge. Instead, he got up, walked to the small wood pile beside the patio, and added a few logs to the fire. In a couple of moments, the flames reached high again, pouring an orange glow over everything. He poked the fire, adjusting the logs and it climbed a little higher.
Reardon was reminded of all the fires he’d built with his men as they camped under the stars dotting the skies over Ireland—and how Erik Rheagan stomped them out with his bare feet when they were done. The lad had feet of iron, and remembering the man made an ache pulse in Reardon’s chest. How were all his men faring? Where were they? Flidae had hinted that some of them hadn’t landed in a comfortable situation as he had.
He looked up at the night sky and focused on dark treetops. He’d never minded being outside. Being part wolf gave him a connection to the outdoors—a connection he’d never fully enjoyed. Silver Moon Sanctuary was changing that for him.
