Midlife Wolf Pack Book 2

Rage-painting should be an Olympic sport.

If it was, I’d be crowned Queen, for sure.

I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and keep going. Come hell or high-water my bedroom will be painted tonight. But so help me, if I catch wind of another anxious thought from someone in the pack about how long it’s taking me to pick my Beta, I’m gonna lose my mind.

It’s not as if stepping into the role of Alpha for a freakin’ werewolf pack is all easy breezy, Covergirl shit.

I mean, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know werewolves were a thing.

Color me mind-blown.

In fact, back then, my biggest concern was whether or not moving to Oregon was far enough from the ex. Or if I could keep my two kids from slapping each other silly.

Now, all eyes are on me as the first female Alpha in generations and it’s like they’re expecting me to be their goddamn messiah. Well, either that or mess things up royally. Evidently, werewolves can be as sexist as the rest of the world.

I have no idea how to live up to the expectations swirling around me and I’m beginning to think this whole thing was a ridiculously bad idea. Not that I had much choice in the matter.

I wonder if she’ll announce her choice by the full moon.

The thought barrels at me from Seth and I ground my teeth together.

Damn, this is getting old.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I could get control of my mind and learn to filter how much of their thoughts I allow to flow to me. So far, that’s proven difficult.

Which basically means, I’m gonna be driven mad as a hatter—and no one is gonna like that version of me. It’s like when the kids were little and they thought they could wear me down by asking for something over and over and over. They learned very quickly that kind of thing had the opposite effect on me.

The difference here is that the pack members aren’t actually asking me their questions. They’re asking them of each other—or in their own minds.

But lord, they have loud minds.

I feel their apprehension like it’s my own and it’s putting me on edge. Not to mention, making me question myself.

It’s not a fun feeling.

Sighing, I dunk my paint roller into the tray and make a mental note to pour more in soon. I slap the roller to the wall, continuing to rage-roll the dark lavender paint across the final beige surface left in our new home.

It’s taken me two weeks of unpacking, painting, and all-around set-up to make it to the final room—my bedroom. It feels good to transform my personal space into something I resonate with.

God knows the ex would never have let me paint the bedroom walls purple. He would have laughed in my face and proceeded to paint it another shade of white because he was boring and lacked any kind of imagination.

Oh, if he could see me now.

“Mom, we’re out of milk,” Asher says, standing in the doorway. He leans against the frame, taking in the color of the room. Then, without a word, he nods in approval.

Smart kid.

“Wanna take my keys and run to the store?” I ask, returning my gaze to the wall and continuing on my mission.

At least the repetitive motion is keeping my hands busy.

“Not overly,” he mutters. The glance I throw over my shoulder must clue him into my mood because he shifts upright and stares at me with wide brown eyes. “I mean, I guess I can.”

“Excellent,” I say, continuing to spread happy purple across the wall.

“Need anything else?”

“Just peace and quiet,” I sigh.

It’s more about the voices in my head than the kids at this point, but a little less bickering and YouTube videos being played at max volume wouldn’t go amiss.

“What’s going on?” Avery asks.

She steps up beside her brother as I turn around with the paint roller raised in my hand like a torch.

“Your brother is going to the grocery store. Evidently, we’re out of milk.”

Avery slides her gaze to her brother and her eyebrows skirt her hairline. She lowers her voice conspiratorially and says, “She’s letting you take the Highlander?”

Asher shrugs. “I guess?”

Avery grabs him by the shoulders and half-pushes him into the landing area outside of my bedroom door.

“Dude, don’t stand around looking like you don’t know where the door is. Take those keys and run, man. What’s wrong with you?” she hisses.

I shake my head and return to painting. Of course, half of me has tuned into their conversation with rapt attention.

Thank you, super-sensitive werewolf hearing.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I get to go anywhere fun. It’s the grocery store,” he retorts, mimicking the same level of a rushed whisper as his sister.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t go other places. It’s a vehicle, Asher. It goes where you make it to go,” Avery says.

My expression deadpans but I keep painting.

She’s not wrong and I guess, when I was a kid, any chance to get out of the house was a chance to stretch my wings of independence. I typically found myself at the mall or the bookstore, though.

Maybe a boyfriend’s house or two…but we won’t talk about that.

“Have you seen the size of this town? Where would I even go?” Asher snorts.

“Who cares? Anywhere,” Avery says. “If I was old enough to drive, I’d go exploring.”

I set the paint roller down and walk to the doorway, planting a hand on my hip.

The two of them glance in my direction like they were in the middle of planning a heist.

“If you’re going to make plans to go all wild child on me, can you at least not do it right outside my door? I’ve got enough to worry about right now between the pack’s craziness and the full moon coming up…” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “I gotta figure out a way to rein it all in.”

“We should host a party,” Asher announces.

Surprised, I glance at him through my splayed fingers. “Excuse me?”

“We’re new in town and you’ve got this different…”—Asher narrows his eyes—“job thing.”

“Is there a point buried in there?” I ask, dropping my hand and slowly arching an eyebrow.

“I just thought it would help you relax and maybe connect with your, uh, team. I mean, it’s almost the Fourth of July…” Asher mutters, running his hand across the back of his neck. “Forget it.”

I hold a hand out. “No, maybe you’re on to something, kid.”

“He is?” Avery says, shock reverberating in her tone.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get to know everyone and help them get to know us. I mean, it’s weird—” I say, letting my words peter out. I haven’t really talked a whole lot about my transition to the kids because I want their life to stay as normal as possible. But it’s pretty hard not to notice the gigantic pink elephant in the room when it’s stomping all over your living room.

“You’re telling us,” Avery whispers under her breath.

She hasn’t been thrilled with things since I wolfed out and the last thing I want to do is kick her anxiety into high gear.

“I think it’s cool. I mean, Mom’s basically a badass,” Asher says, pride riding his words.

Despite the swell of appreciation, I fire back, “Language.”

He zips his mouth tight and holds his hands up. “Well, you are.”

“Regardless,” I say, shooting him a knowing look.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms rise and a thrill races through my entire being. I turn to face my front door.

Stone’s on his way here.

“Oh man, she’s doing it again,” Avery grumbles.

I glance back at her. “Doing what?”

She rolls her eyes like a true teen. “You’re making a goofy face and reacting to stuff we can’t even—”

The doorbell rings and she presses her lips tight, raising her arms as if she rests her case.

“It’s just Stone,” I say, walking around them and hitting the stairs.

“Asher, take me with you. I don’t wanna be home if they’re giving each other the oogly eyes,” Avery declares.

“Yeah, me either,” Asher says, following behind me. “Come on.”

My midsection flutters and I inhale sharply. I’m not so sure being alone in the house with Stone is such a good idea.

I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.

By the time I open the front door, Asher has already grabbed the keys to the SUV.

“Hey, Stone,” he says, stepping sideways as he exits the open door and continues onward.

Avery follows after him, waving awkwardly as she goes by.

“Be careful,” I call out after them. Sighing, I wave Stone in. “Kids.”

The smile that creeps across Stone’s face is the stuff that makes my heart skip beats and my legs turn into jelly. Even after the past few weeks, I have to pinch myself when I think about this guy somehow finding himself in my bizarre orbit. Or maybe it’s more accurate that I’ve found myself in his…

He laughs, glancing over his shoulder. “Where are those two off to so fast?”

“Grocery store, supposedly. But I have a feeling the majority of it will be joy riding,” I mutter, trying to ignore the panic those words invoke. “They better at least fill up the gas tank on their way home.”

Stone nods, clasping his hands behind his back. His light gray button-down shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing the tattoos on his forearms in a way that stirs my insides. It also fits snugly across his broad shoulders and chest, and tapering nicely as it tucks into his dark denim jeans.

I sigh contently. He’s a beauty to behold, that’s for sure.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Swiping a stray hair out of my face with the back of my hand, I realize I must be a hot mess. I have paint clothes on, which consists of old sweats and a tattered t-shirt that says, “And she said ‘fuck this shit,’ then lived happily ever after.” To top it off, purple paint is splattered across my fingertips and goodness knows where else.

Stone’s emerald gaze sweeps from the top of my wild hair to my toes. Then, he steps forward, rubbing his thumb across my cheek. “You have a little paint…”

“Yeah, I’ve been finishing up my bedroom,” I explain, trying not to feel disappointed when his hand leaves my face.

We’ve been keeping things between us on a simmer but there’s some red-hot magma burning under the surface and every time we’re in the same room, it threatens to boil over. I keep trying to rationalize that now’s not the time to dive headlong into a full-blown relationship but the rest of me isn’t always in agreement on that matter.

Stone steps around me, taking in the rest of the house. It’s been a few of days since he was here and the last of the boxes were unpacked in that span.

“The house is looking great. You sure work fast when you want to,” he says with a hint of sarcasm as he returns his gaze to me.

I cross my arms. “Was that a dig at my decision-making skills on the Beta position, Mr. Lachlan? Please tell me you’re not going to join in on that bandwagon.”

Even as the words escape my lips, in the back of my mind, I hope it wasn’t actually a dig at the progression of our relationship.

A broad grin creeps across his features and he huffs a laugh. “Maybe a little. I can’t help it. You’ve been ruminating so loudly about it, I had to poke fun.”

Despite the relief that washes over me, my face crumples. “I’ve been that loud?”

“Well, I don’t know if everyone is picking up on it, but I certainly have,” he whispers, taking a step toward me. “What’s bothering you so much?”

I drop my head back and groan. “Everything.”

“You’ll need to be more specific.” He chuckles.

Lifting my head, I stare into his eyes for the longest time, wishing I could find the right words to relay all the worries I’ve been fending off.

Finally, I sigh. “I don’t want the pack to think my feelings for you will influence my decision. I want to make a good impression and—”

Surprise flashes through those green eyes of his. “If you’re worried about that, don’t pick me.”

“But you were the last Beta. Well, the last non-homicidal Beta. Wouldn’t that make you the best, er—person for the job?”

Stone places his warm hands on my shoulders. “Only the Alpha can decide who the best person for the job is. You have a different energy than Doug and your leadership should reflect that. If you’re hesitating, it means you need to stop letting others influence your decision and trust your own.”

I narrow my gaze. “See, isn’t that the sort of thing a Beta would say?”

Again, he chuckles. “Perhaps. But so would a good friend. Or…”

“Or…?” I hold my breath, watching his every move.

“Whatever it is we are,” he finishes softly. His words are thoughtful but they hold the same silent question that’s been lingering in my mind.

My breath hitches and my mouth goes dry. “What do you think we are?”

His lashes flutter across his cheeks. Then he slides his hands down to my upper arms. Creases form across his forehead and I lean in, trying desperately to tune into his thoughts. However, he has them locked up far better than I can seem to be able to do.

Finally, he says, “I’m not sure what we are just yet, Ella. But I’m looking forward to seeing where things lead.”