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“Tori, I didn’t suspect that at all, but now I’m beginning to wonder because you seem a little too defensive.” Margo kept laughing as she tried to get herself under control.
Apparently, my craziness amused her. I scanned the crowds, realizing I’d shouted a little loud and could very well have incited a new piece of gossip about myself all on my own. Who needed the Magpies?
Crossing my arms to disguise my discomfort, I said, “I’m only this defensive because Mateo had to ask with a crowd of people around us if I had a pup in the oven.”
I was also appalled that he would call my fictional baby a pup. I wasn’t pregnant, but calling the baby a pup was rude because I was a shifter. The baby was still a baby.
“Don’t worry about it. If you did have a pup, it wouldn’t matter. We don’t pay attention to those sorts of conventions. It’s fun to see you riled up, though.”
I cocked my head at Margo. I couldn’t believe she’d also used the term “pup” when speaking about a baby. Was that a shifter thing?
Too embarrassed to ask Margo, I filed that question away. I’d ask Ridge when we were alone. There was still so much about the shifter world I didn’t know, and it was very much a baptism-by-fire kind of learning for me.
Shaking her head, Margo continued serving up pies. “Do you want a break from being the mayor’s sought-after fiancée to help me cut up more pies so Mom can hand out slices?” She waved her knife in the air. “You get a sharp, pointy knife. People won’t dare ask about shotgun weddings with that in your hand.” She tried to hide a grin.
“Give me the knife.”
Laughing, she handed it to me and pointed me toward the pies.
Silent in our tasks, I took moments between slicing and dishing up to people-watch. Hidden as I was in the back of the booth, I could do it without being disturbed. The sights were sweet to watch, and I admired how cozy and charming this small town was once again. The strong sense of community wasn’t a game here. Neighbors were always helping neighbors. Residents did their best to shop locally. They had this annual fundraiser to raise money for town projects, or any citizen who needed a helping hand.
Margo had once mentioned that when a house burned down due to faulty wiring, the town used funds raised at this event to help pay for the family to stay at the Bogford B&B, and for any amenities they needed until they could get back on their feet and the insurance paid out. That family wouldn’t have recovered the way they did if the community hadn’t stepped up.
The funds also assisted with school programs, books, and childcare for working parents.Whether shifters resided there or not, this town was magical in its own right.
Returning to the business of dishing up several pies, I started noticing that there were many more unfamiliar faces than I’d expected. I hadn’t lived in Blackwood Creek for long, but between working at the café, attending town meetings, and visiting the shops and The Tipsy Tavern, I knew more of the residents. If not by name, then at least by their faces. It helped that this was a small town and a tight-knit community, but it was distracting to see so many new faces.
“Hey, Margo?”
“Yeah?”
I gestured to the crowd gathered around various food and gaming booths. “Who are those people? I don’t remember seeing them around before.”
Putting her knife down, Margo studied the crowd, frowning as she sniffed the air and looked at me. “I don’t know, but they’re shifters. Whatever pack they are, I hope their alpha had the good sense to give Ridge a heads-up.”
Could that have been what Ridge was worried about? Had he sensed strange shifters in his territory?
“We’ve only had a few lone wolves or small nomadic packs pass through town a couple of times since he became alpha,” Margo said. “That’s probably a good thing, given that he’s extremely protective of us and goes a little overboard.”
Watching the unfamiliar wolves, I silently agreed that was probably a good thing.
Margo continued, “Since Ridge is encouraging other shifters and packs to settle down in Blackwood Creek, we obviously don’t want to deal with trouble-causing wolves. Or, goddess forbid, feral wolves.”
Guilt and shame instantly ate at me. I was sort of both those things. I wasn’t here to cause trouble, but trouble inevitably followed me. I started to believe that was my real curse because I didn’t view myself as a monster anymore.
I managed to push down the self-loathing, but nerves started taking over me. I couldn’t recall Ridge mentioning anything about speaking with other alphas. I wondered if he would’ve even told me if he had. It wasn’t like he had any obligations to inform me about situations involving the town as mayor or alpha. But since I wanted to help, I figured he would have told me.
Children’s laughter brought me out of my thoughts, and then I remembered what Margo had said about Ridge becoming an alpha. Suddenly, I realized I knew nothing about how that had happened. I hadn’t even bothered to ask.
I hesitated to ask Margo for that story. Playing Ridge’s fiancée meant I should have known about that. Asking her would make me look like a bad partner, but my curiosity got the better of me. I had to know.
“How did Ridge become the alpha of the Blackwood Pack?”
Margo didn’t seem appalled by my question as she wiped down the knife and returned to slicing pies. I followed suit, letting the other wolves around us drop from my view because I didn’t want them to think I was spying on them. I didn’t want any problems if I could avoid them.
“We’re actually called the Northeast Pack, and Ridge didn’t become alpha in the traditional way. Normally, alphas who are newly accepted into a pack are allowed to challenge the current alpha to a fight. Whoever’s wolf is most powerful becomes the alpha.”
Surprised, I couldn’t help but let out, “That’s archaic, isn’t it?”
