notepad and pen on the seat next to him. “Do you mind telling me your name, sir?”
The man’s wizened face darkened. “Don’t see why I should.”
“For the record,” Bodie said. “If I’m going to close out the incident report, I need to know who provided the information.”
“Henry Coots.” The man exhaled heavily. “Most people call me Cooter.”
Bodie jotted down the name. “Who are the juveniles involved?”
“I don’t think their names are necessary. They got a good scolding from the sentinels. It won’t happen again.”
“The sentinels?” The she-wolf had mentioned them, too.
“The Co-op’s security force.” Cooter nodded. “Put down in your book that they handled the situation. There’s nothing more to it.”
Oh, there was a hell of a lot more to it. “Thank you for your time, Cooter.”
“Next time, before you stick your nose into the Co-op’s matters, you should talk to Tristan Durrance. He’s been in charge of security since I retired.”
“Yes, sir.” Bodie had left a message for Tristan but hadn’t received a call back yet. Having first met while working the fires in the Chattahoochee National Forest a few years ago, they had reconnected when Bodie moved to Maico.
Cooter returned to his truck and drove around Bodie’s vehicle toward the house. Bodie checked the rearview mirror.
At least no more Co-opers were driving up to tell him not to stick his beak where it didn’t belong.
Thankfully Willow was having a better time integrating with the locals than her father. She loved her new classmates. Had to be a first. Quiet and heartbreakingly shy, Willow had hated every school she’d attended. Bodie suspected bullying though she never admitted it.
But on her first day at Maico High, she had come home all smiles and talking more than she had the entire summer before they’d moved. Coming out of her shell, she had made friends and was growing more confident in herself every day. Perhaps it had something to do with the nearing of her first transformation, but he hoped that it was because she was happy.
The gnawing in his belly turned into an obnoxious rumble. He’d missed lunch and now his stomach was trying to devour itself. He lifted the phone from its holder on the dashboard and called the local diner.
“Mabel’s,” a woman answered.
“I need to place an order.”
“Bodie?” She drew out his name with her Southern drawl. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, hey, cutie pie. I wondered if you were comin’ by today to see me.”
Bodie had no idea which server was talking to him.
Being a new face in a small town always made one stand out. Being a new single face was like wearing a neon sign. But after Willow and Bodie’s mother had joined him in Maico, the neon sign went nova.
“I’m running late and need to pick up something to go.”
“Want the usual?”
“That’ll be fine.” Bodie glanced at the clock. “I might not get there until after the diner closes.”
“I’ll keep it warming in the window. You drive safe, now. See you soon.”
Bodie backed out of the driveway onto the road. Heading into town, he passed the KOA campground and the weight on his shoulders increased. Living in the camper had been a temporary plan when he’d arrived in Maico, alone. He’d expected to have time to find a place before bringing up his daughter and mother.
However, plans changed after two Tlanuhwas had unexpectedly approached Bodie, hoping to recruit him into a small faction wanting him to pick up the mantle of modernization among their kind that had gotten his forward-thinking father killed. Not knowing if they were sincere or informants for the Tribunal—the Tlanuhwas’ governing council—Bodie had adamantly declined.
Still, if something was going on among his clansmen, he wanted his family close. Of course, his mother had squawked about the move. But she didn’t know about the incident and he wasn’t inclined to worry her over something that might not come to fruition.
Clipped to the dashboard, his phone chirped. He tapped the speaker button. “Gryffon.”
“Hey.” Tristan sounded like his usual friendly self. “Just got your message. Nel turned my phone off so I could get some sleep.”
“Nel is in town?”
“Yeah.” Tristan’s voice faded into a contented sigh. “This time, she’s staying.”
“That’s great,” Bodie said, now making sense of how devastated his staunch bachelor friend had been by the break-up with his summer fling. Wolves mated for life; apparently wolf-shifters did, too, when they fell in love.
Not that Bodie was looking for love, but maybe Tristan could help him connect with the she-wolf. Never far from his mind, she captivated him in a way no woman had. He needed to meet her in person, gauge her reaction to his human form. Find out if the strong attraction he felt was mutual.
“About the gunshots last night,” Bodie began before his thoughts continued to lead him elsewhere.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling.” Tristan paused. “Can you meet me at the Walker’s Run Resort? We need to discuss a few things.”
Oh, yes, we do.
The gray gloom in the early afternoon sky matched Ronni’s mood and she barely felt the nip in the light autumn breeze. Strolling past Wyatt’s Automotive Service, she gave a finger wave to Rafe inside the garage and then crossed the side street to Mabel’s Diner.
After an explosion at Rafe’s business last year had caused damage to the diner, the aging owner, Mabel Whitcomb, had considered retiring instead of reopening. She—like most humans—was unaware of the existence of wolf shifters and was not a member of the Walker’s Run Cooperative. But, because she was a pillar in the community and a friend to many Co-op members, Gavin Walker—the pack’s Alpha—had directed funds from the Co-op’s reserves to finance the diner’s remodeling project.
On the outside, the town landmark still looked the same with its bright yellow walls and white trim. The interior, however, had been given a significant overhaul. Gone was the faded eighties decor, the stained and threadbare commercial carpet, the ripped vinyl booths, the wobbly aluminum tables and a lunch counter with a large, face-like coffee stain the servers had named Fred.
Now the palette matched the cozy feel that Mabel’s always generated. The walls were creamy yellow with white accents, though some rich wood paneling kept customers from feeling like they’d been swallowed by a lemon meringue pie. Instead of carpet, the floor was now wood laminate.
