not an art teacher, per se.”
“According to your résumé, you are an elementary school teacher, and in our phone interview you mentioned that you are an artist.”
“I said I like to paint.” Having never shown her work to anyone, Penelope wasn’t sure she could claim to be an artist. “I may not have the right skill set, since I’ve never taught an art class.”
“I have faith in you,” Cassie said. “We aren’t asking you to turn these kids into prodigies. Simply help them have fun creating handmade souvenirs.”
“Is there a curriculum?”
“Here’s what Linda had planned.” Cassie handed Penelope a three-ring binder.
She flipped through the pages of activities, supplies needed and the link information to online how-to videos.
“The hours are the same, seven-thirty to noon, Monday through Friday. And, instead of a suite inside the resort, we can offer you a cabin on the property. I thought you might like the extra space and solitude to paint in your spare time.”
“I like how you think.”
“Is that a yes?” Cassie rested her folded hands on her desk.
“Yes.”
“Fantastic!” Cassie picked up the clipboard. “I need your signature on these forms, then I’ll show you the activities room.”
Penelope reviewed the documents and signed in the appropriate places. Handing the clipboard back, she knocked over the silver frame on Cassie’s desk. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She picked up the picture of a striking black wolf. “This is a great picture. Do you know the photographer who took it?”
“I did.” Cassie reached for the framed photo and smiled lovingly at the picture before placing it back on her desk. “The Walker’s Run Cooperative, of which the resort is a subsidiary, runs a wolf sanctuary. That’s my husband’s wolf in the picture.”
“Your husband owns a wolf?”
“No one owns the wolves. Brice is his wolf’s handler. Co-op members are tasked with safeguarding the health and well-being of individual wolves.”
“Is his wolf tame or did you use a telephoto lens?”
“The Co-op wolves aren’t tame, but they aren’t dangerous, either. Unless you threaten their families.”
“Could I go into the sanctuary to take some pictures? I’d love to expand my portfolio to include wildlife.” So what if she didn’t exactly have a professional portfolio. Never even considered one, since showing her work to anyone had been something she hadn’t dared.
Only learning to paint after her parents’ deaths, Penelope had received art therapy as part of her own recovery. She fell in love with turning swipes of color into pictures and dreamed of being a professional artist. But Penelope’s aunt and uncle had convinced her of the impossibility of such a foolish notion when she was without a modicum of talent.
“For the safety of the wolf pack, only Co-op members are allowed access.”
“How does someone become a member?”
“One is either born into the Co-op or marries into it.”
“That exclusive, huh?”
Cassie offered a sympathetic smile. “There are great scenic views in the area and your cabin is up the mountain near a river. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of inspiration.” She flipped through the signed papers. “Everything looks good, but I’ll need a copy of your identification.”
As Cassie turned away to scan Penelope’s driver’s license and social security card on the printer behind her desk, Penelope used her phone to capture a snapshot of the wolf photo. If she couldn’t get into the sanctuary to photograph the animals herself, at least she could use the one in Cassie’s picture for inspiration.
“I heard Tristan call you Nel. Would you prefer that on your name tag?”
“Sure.” Why not? It would be easier for the kids to say and remember.
“Welcome to the Walker’s Run Resort family, Nel.” Cassie returned the identification cards to Penelope. “I hope your time with us will be memorable.”
Considering that, in her first few hours in the area, she’d met a naked man with the face and body of a Greek god, Walker’s Run already had the memorable part down pat.
* * *
“I wanted to be the first to tell you.” Behind the large mahogany desk, Gavin Walker leaned back in his leather chair and stroked the short-cropped white beard framing the unhappy curl of his mouth. His dark brows, a contrast to his snow-white hair, frowned.
Tristan’s stomach instinctively clenched and the feel-good high the encounter with Nel had given him plummeted.
“Jaxen’s release from Woelfesguarde is being finalized this week. I’m granting your father’s petition for Jaxen’s reinstatement into the pack.” Gavin paused, as if expecting Tristan to respond.
At the moment, it wasn’t possible. Tristan’s brain was emulating a train wreck. With the jumble of thoughts and emotions crashing and exploding in his head, coherent words weren’t possible.
Jaxen Pyke was a criminally minded, narcissistic bully. He was also Tristan’s blood-kin. A cousin. The only one on his father’s side. Both Tristan and the majority of the Walker’s Run pack had heaved a good-riddance sigh when Jaxen was eventually booted from the pack. The time on his own apparently hadn’t fostered any remorse or a need for reconciliation, because Jax eventually took up with a rogue pack and continued his merry criminal path. Until three years ago when an assault charge landed him in Woelfesguarde, a wolfan-owned-and-operated penitentiary.
“Do you understand?” Gavin continued. “Jaxen is coming home.”
“When?” The single word sounded clipped and tight and full of hostility to Tristan’s ears. No doubt the Alpha heard it, as well.
“Saturday.” Gavin’s calculating gaze seemed to target every twitch Tristan’s jaw made as he ground his teeth. “I am allowing him to reenter the territory, but he’ll need to earn back his place in the pack.”
“Does Aunt Ruby know?” Tristan rubbed the furrow between brows. Of course she didn’t know. Ruby’s first call would’ve been to Tristan. His ears would still be ringing from the tongue-lashing she served every time something happened concerning Jaxen.
Gavin affirmed with a shake of his head. “I wanted to tell you before Cooter and I pay her a visit this afternoon. I’ve asked your father meet us there.”
The Alpha and the pack’s chief sentinel delivering the news would leave Tristan with one less worry on his mind. He eased into his next breath, thankful he’d have time to psych himself up before dealing with Jaxen’s arrival.
“If that’s all.” Tristan stood.
“There’s something else.” Gavin leaned forward,
