Page 124 of All Packed Up

“That sucks?” Grif questioned. “That’s the most chill response I’ve received.”

Arlo rolled over to face him. “You’ve already opened your house to us and literally made a complete stranger a bed frame from scratch. What response were you expecting?”

“She’s an omega though.”

“So? Nice try, big guy, but we already know you’re a softie. Your tough guy ruse isn’t fooling anyone.”

Griffith barked out a laugh before smacking a hand across his mouth. “Softie, huh?” he asked, rolling his head to see Arlo.

“Yeah. A big ole softie,” he repeated, digging through the covers and finding Grif’s phone. The damned thing was still lit up to one of the pictures Griffith had taken of the pets. Wow, what a phone battery. “Softie.” He held the phone up.

“Okay, okay, I get it, fine,” Grif finally conceded as he snatched the device from Arlo’s hand.

Arlo didn’t know what else to say, so the quiet lingered. It was stupidly romantic, the fire crackling in the background as they lay there. Maybe it wasn’t helping that Wendy’s pheromones still lingered from earlier. Was it the dark? The privacy?

Grif was really, really hot. Not only was he huge like Nic was, but he was built like someone… well, like a fighter turned farmer. He couldn’t help but chuckle and dipped his head at Grif’s curious look.

“Fighter turned farmer,” he murmured in explanation.

With a snort, Grif rolled his eyes, but the smile that glowed softly in the dark portrayed his amusement, and Arlo found himself wondering what his lips tasted like.

Clearing his throat, Arlo rolled to his back to stare at the ceiling.

Sure, Grif was dark and tall and had calloused hands that would probably feel great against his skin, but… there was something unexplored between him and Nic, and Arlo wasn’t trying to get in the way of that. At least… not yet.

“Goodnight, I guess… again,” Arlo offered into the quiet.

“I think you mean morning,” Grif responded, but his voice was heavy with oncoming sleep.

“Whatever,” Arlo murmured, rolling on his side away from the other alpha.

But it didn’t matter which way he rolled, because somehow Grif ended up next to him anyway.

Chapter 30

GRIFFITH

“I have never been so happy to see the sunshine,” Grif muttered as he stepped out onto the porch.

The cold was still brisk, his breath clouding the air, but it was… doable. The sun shone brightly from the east, casting long shadows across the porch for hours to come.

Griffith could only hope the sun would be warm enough to dry the ground a little so he could fix that fence.

Daisy yipped at him from the yard, and he smiled as her tail wagged, paws splayed wide and head lowered. She wanted to play.

“It’s way too muddy,” he called out, shaking his head. He stepped off the porch and took a seat on the bottom step. “You might not care about the mud, but I do,” he told the mutt as she bounded over to him with excited hops.

The leash caught her a couple feet back from the porch, tugging her to a stop by the chest harness. She huffed in the way only Daisy could and stared at him so pitifully.

“I know,” he groaned. But he couldn’t let her off the leash for fear she’d run away. That dog had been his only companion ever since he’d gotten out of prison, and he wasn’t letting her excitement for a squirrel get her lost in the forest and attacked by a pack of coyotes.

Daisy usually pranced alongside him, or at least nearby, but usually he had the damned fence to keep her in the yard. So he couldn’t take any chances, at least not this early. Not before he’d even had a full mug of caffeine.

He tipped said mug against his lips and let the hot espresso burst on his tongue. The sour mugged mutt eyed him, and a grin twitched against his lips. Daisy was just so damned cute.

“I didn’t take you for the type to dress your pet up,” a soft voice called, and Griffith turned to find Wendy with the door cracked open behind her.

He squinted. “I don’t dress Daisy up.”