Page 7 of Auditing the Alpha

I laughed out loud at my own absurdity. Clearly, the small-town atmosphere was getting to me. Next, I’d be believing in Santa Claus.

Still chuckling, I entered my room and prepared for bed, determinedly ignoring the part of me that was already half-convinced.

Because werewolves weren’t real.

But Klaus Wolff’s interest in me definitely was.

Chapter 4

The weather report was already calling for snow by the time I woke up the next morning. Not just a light dusting, but an actual blizzard rolling in from the northwest. I stared at the forecast on my phone, debating whether to call Klaus and postpone, but my professional pride wouldn’t let me. A little snow wasn’t going to derail my audit schedule.

I dressed warmly—or what passed for warmly in my limited cold-weather wardrobe—and headed downstairs. Martha was at the front desk, frowning at her own weather app.

“You heading out to the Wolffs’ today?” she asked.

I nodded, pouring myself coffee from the pot on the sideboard. “Need to see the operation in action.”

“Mmm.” She glanced pointedly at my footwear. “In those?”

I followed her gaze to my leather ankle boots. “What’s wrong with these?”

She sighed like I’d deeply disappointed her. “Snow’s coming in fast. You’ll want something waterproof with actual tread.” She disappeared into a back room and returned with a pair of heavy boots. “My son’s. Should fit you.”

I started to protest, but she cut me off. “Either wear these or call Klaus to cancel. I’m not having some city boy freeze to death on my property because he was too stubborn to dress properly.”

I took the boots.

Klaus arrived precisely at nine, his truck rumbling to a stop outside the inn. Today he wore a thick cable-knit sweaterthat hugged his broad chest, jeans that had seen better days, and a knit cap that somehow made his beard look even more appealing.

His eyes dropped to my borrowed boots and he raised an eyebrow. “Martha get to you?”

“She can be persuasive,” I admitted.

He grinned, the expression transforming his usually serious face. “She’s been managing this town since before I was born.”

The sky was heavy with gray clouds as we drove to the tree farm, and the first flakes began to fall about halfway there. By the time we arrived, the snow was coming down steadily.

“Weather’s moving in faster than predicted,” Klaus noted, peering at the sky. “We’ll keep this tour short.”

The operation was impressive—acres of carefully managed trees at various stages of growth, a processing area where harvested trees were prepared for shipping, and a gift shop selling wreaths, garlands, and pine-scented everything. Klaus knew every detail, from growth cycles to profit margins.

“Most of our revenue comes from wholesale contracts with big retailers,” he explained as we walked between rows of trees. Snow accumulated on his shoulders and in his beard, but he seemed oblivious to the cold. “But the cut-your-own business brings in the families. It’s tradition.”

I nodded, taking notes on my tablet, trying to ignore how the falling snow caught in his eyelashes. “And the seasonal nature of the business explains the income fluctuations that flagged your account.”

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked, holding a branch aside for me to pass. “Seasonal income?”

“Partially,” I admitted. “That and some large cash deposits around the winter solstice each year.”

Something flickered across his face. “Ah. That’s the… family gathering. Everyone contributes to a communal fund. For the year ahead.”

“In cash?”

He shrugged those massive shoulders. “Old traditions. Some of the family don’t trust banks.”

I made another note, aware of how the snow was falling heavier now, the wind picking up. A violent shiver ran through me despite my layers.

Klaus noticed immediately. “You’re freezing. We should head back.”