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“You know what I mean. There’s no ‘I’ in ‘we.’ That sort of thing.”
“All this because I live alone? Sheesh.”
He wisely decided to switch back to the topic of the budget. “If you’re worried about money, maybe you should think about a part-time job.”
“I’m not worried,” I lied. “I’m trying to plan better. My old system isn’t working for me anymore.” In more ways than I cared to count.
He turned onto a dirt road.
“Your old system involved a job, didn’t it? Tracking lost heirs in London?”
“Yes.” I didn’t want to explain my reasons for avoiding the job market. They would only result in more questions. West wasn’t one to cut me any slack either. He’d made that clear. He sensed something was off with me, and he didn’t want my presence to stir up trouble. If it were up to him, I’d get a job far away and leave town. As much as I respected his devotion to his pack, I wasn’t going anywhere. Like he said earlier, Fairhaven was my home now.
The horseshoe-shaped trailer park was located on the wooded outskirts in the northwest corner of Fairhaven, south of the highway. There were about three dozen trailers total. He parked in the short driveway of his trailer, which looked identical to the others except for the looped iron symbol affixed to the front door that indicated his alpha status. Subtle, just like West.
I started toward the front door.
“Not there. We’re going to the meeting hall.” He pointed to a trailer at the end of the row where a small group had gathered outside. I recognized two of them: beefy Bert and Anna Dupree, a middle-aged brunette I’d first met at Monk’s, where I’d demonstrated just enough power to bring her to heel.
“This seems very official. I thought we were having an informal chat with the sleepy werewolves.”
“That’s not how we handle our internal affairs.” West cut through the visitors to open the door. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late.”
“Why’d you bring her?” a teenaged male asked. I didn’t miss the judgmental tone in his voice.
“Because she’s a problem solver,” West said.
“Last I checked, the pack solves its own problems,” he shot back.
“Haven’t I taught you better than that? It isn’t weak to ask for help when you need it, Xander,” West replied. “It’s a sign of strength.”
I looked at him askance. “Kane wasn’t kidding about you.”
“In what way?”
“When he called you a democratic leader.”
West examined me. “You and Kane were talking about me?”
“Do you care?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I was only curious.”
Everyone filed into the trailer. The only contents inside were a large, oblong table and twelve chairs. Not even a valance over the window, not that I should judge. My house was still more of a shell than a home, but at least I was working on improvements. I had a feeling this trailer was designed to be barebones on purpose. No distractions from the matter at hand. I bet West scowled at anybody who deviated from the designated topic until they stopped talking.
West indicated the chair next to his, and I took a seat.
“Can we get started?” an older woman asked. “I have a basket of vegetables that aren’t going to chop themselves and these arthritic hands aren’t as agile as they used to be.”
“It’s my day to cook,” West replied.
“And I’m on the roster for sous chef duties,” she said. “Didn’t you look?”
“We’ll keep this brief, Dottie. Promise.” West cleared his throat and addressed the other attendees. “As you can see, Lorelei Clay has joined us today to discuss the sleep issue.”
“If you’re going to bring in an outsider, why not ask a healer?” Anna piped up. No doubt she didn’t want me involved because she was afraid of me. Smart wolf.
West was oblivious to the real reason for her objection. “Because I don’t think a healer is what we need,” he said.
