Page 125 of All Packed Up

“What do you call that?” she asked, waiving a hand toward the yard. The chilly wind cut through the porch, bringing with it the omega’s scent mixed in a delicious cocktail of fruity blossoms and fading creamy smoke.

He hated how well Nic’s scent complimented the omega’s. And Tate’s blended right in to make it all an intoxicating concoction.

Shifting his attention to the yard, he eyed Daisy, who yipped as their gazes met.

“She’s just wearing a harness so the leash doesn’t choke her out,” he explained.

Wendy made a noise that was suspiciously like a laugh. “It’s got a bowtie on it.”

“So? It was on sale.” That was a lie. But the bow was pink and it stood out so cutely against her gray fur just like he thought it would. Dammit.

A hum sounded behind him, one that didn’t seem convinced. “Well, either way, she looks pretty damned cute. I buy bow ties for Knuckles, but any time I try to get a collar on him, he loses his mind. He’s not one to be trifled with.”

“With a name like Knuckles? Never would have guessed,” he drawled, words dripping in sarcasm.

“He’s a fighter, that’s for sure,” she murmured, voice distant.

Grif felt his shoulders tighten at her words. Was she fishing for a confession or something? How would she even know about hi—

Nic.

That damned beta must have opened his big mouth and told her about Griffith’s past.

His chest stung at the realization, and he turned up his mug for the last sip before standing. “I’m going to get to work and see what needs to be done,” he said.

Griffith had told Arlo. Confided in that alpha about his past. And don’t ask Griffith why, it had just… come out. And Arlo had taken it pretty well. He’d hardly blinked an eye. Even called him a softie.

Griffith scoffed.

The quiet, gentle, observational vibe he got from Arlo didn’t add up with an Arlo who would tell his late-night secrets to anyone.

Okay, chill out.

Wendy’s an omega. Nic probably had to tell her everything to get her here.

With a curse, Griffith put his hands on his hips and studied the mess of a yard.

He didn’t like that, and he didn’t know why. Wendy knowing something about him that he wasn’t prepared to share.

Maybe Arlo hadn’t been surprised because Nic had told them all. That was why he’d been so chill.

Stomach twisting, he gently set his mug on the banister before bidding Wendy a short goodbye. Adjusting his work appropriate coat, he slinked out into the cold in his boots, the wet ground squishy beneath his feet.

The chickens clucked angrily at him for disturbing them, and he cooed to them as he checked the heat lamps to make sure everyone was warm. He had them plugged up to their own generator, so even if he did have a power outage, they would be safe.

Chickens did not like the cold, and if it wasn’t for the intricately insulated chicken coop he’d put months into building, he wouldn’t be gathering eggs all winter.

“You guys wouldn’t ever tell my secrets,” he whispered. Darla squawked at him. “I wasn’t talking to you, Darla.” She’d sell him out in a heartbeat.

With a chuckle, he quit pestering the chickens and eyed the yard, making mental notes of everything he needed to do.

Pick up the debris from the storm, move that wheelbarrow back into the garage, replace the tarp that had blown off the stack of firewood and hope it was dry. Then he needed to really assess the fence and make a list of items he needed from town in order to fix it.

Shit. Tony was going to have a fit, seeing him twice in the same month. And damn, only days apart.

Griffith would make sure to get a final list from everyone of anything they might need until Wendy’s heat was over. He didn’t want for any of them to have to leave once it got started, some of them would be too vulnerable.

Rounding the corner, he froze, captured in place by the sight of Nic playing with Daisy. He had her off her leash, but he wasn’t leaving her side either. No, he was down on the ground, muddy paw prints on his low-slung pants as he scratched Daisy’s jowls until her back leg was kicking.