Page 8 of Found Objects

“Ohmygod.”

“Crystal said Jimmy showed up at eight this morning, ran his truck up into the shelter driveway, and took out the mailbox.”

That mailbox needed to be on a reinforced pole with how many times angry husbands had annihilated it.

“Diane went out and yelled at him when he got out with his rifle.”

Which she shouldn’t have done. I really liked Diane Gershin, the nurse at the shelter who checked injuries and gave out much-needed hugs and medicine. The doctor who came once a week from Lewisburg always tried to steal her for his own practice. She was apparently radically competent as well as fearless. I didn’t want her to ever get hurt.

“What happened?” Paris asked Lupe.

“He was still drunk, can you believe it? He passed out on the grass in front of the shelter. He was still sawing logs when White Sulphur Springs PD came to pick him up.”

“That’s insane.” Paris sounded disgusted.

“I heard he was yellin’ that he wasn’t drunk when they were loading him into the back of their cruiser,” Lupe told her.

“Yeah, but he was passed out in the grass, wasn’t he?”

“Exactly. Like the cops couldn’t tell he was wasted. Diane said the sprinklers were going and everything. He can’t really argue with that.”

“Absolutely not,” Paris said, smiling at Lupe before she turned to me. “You’ve had your coffee, now it’s time to talk.”

Lupe gasped. “You haven’t talked to them yet?”

“I needed coffee,” I whined, sad to see that mine was gone.

“Your manners are terrible.” Lupe frowned at me.

Paris nodded in agreement. “And look at the blond one smiling at you.”

“Oh, muy hermoso,” Lupe said, leaning into me. “Time to show him those beautiful green eyes of yours.”

“You two are gonna make me throw up.”

Lupe took the empty mug from me, Paris shoved me forward, and then I was off, crossing the courtyard, touching the ancient limestone wall, feeling it vibrate under my hand, and trying to smile as I approached the three men. It probably looked more like a grimace.

“Morning,” I greeted them.

“Are you Merritt Baker?” the tall black-haired, blue-eyed man asked me.

“I am.”

Immediately, he offered me his hand. I was surprised by the strength of his grip, and the calluses. Even though he was trying to develop forest land and turn it into gods knew what, he clearly didn’t simply sit in an office all day, in charge of planning.

“I’m Reggie Cunningham from the Swann Group,” he said. “This is Fletcher Beauden—” He indicated the brown-haired man with freckles beside him. “—and this is our boss, Justin Wentworth. We just bought Bill Rader’s thirty acres, as well as Desmond Laramie’s piece so we’ll have access to this same road you have here, and we would love to talk to you about your piece there to the south.”

Something about Reggie and Fletcher was different. I just couldn’t tell what.

“My land is not for sale.”

“Oh no, that’s not what he meant,” Mr. Wentworth chimed in, smiling at me, reaching for my hand. “We just wanted permission to cross it if needed.”

The second I touched his hand, I realized what had confused me about Cunningham. I was more tired than I thought or it would have hit me quicker. He was a shifter; probably wolf, as most shifters I’d come across over the years were. Clearly, Mr. Wentworth was more powerful than Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Beauden, as neither of the other two men had registered as shifters with me. But even though Mr. Wentworth was more powerful than the other two, he wasn’t an alpha. That kind of power was easy to discern, and while Mr. Wentworth was a handsome man, perhaps even beautiful, the most enticing thing about him was his scent. What lingered on him was petrichor and slow-burning fire, a hint of pipe tobacco, a trace of gasoline, and that deep scent of the forest. I could breathe that into my lungs all day.

“We know you’re a lone wolf without a pack,” Fletcher Beauden said gruffly, taking a step toward me. He didn’t sound mean, and the move wasn’t threatening, not yet, but he was being clear. “We’ve been here a couple weeks already getting the lay of the land. But so you know, we have ten families along with fifteen unmated wolves we’re bringing here, and when we have our hunts once a month, we would like to be able to run freely.”

I nodded, looking at Mr. Wentworth. “You’re the most powerful, but you let them both speak while you stay silent. Why is that?”