Page 61 of All Packed Up

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Arlo admitted, lifting his hands in innocence.

Wendy shook her head and hooked the tape measure on the end of the wood before dragging it down. She made a mark at the correct measurement, and like the well-oiled machine they were, Arlo slid it off the table and carried it to Griffith, who would do his thing while she grabbed another piece of wood.

The whirr of the saw filled the chilly air, and she eyed Arlo as he made his way back to her.

Call her horny, but when she imagined this whole group build thing, she imagined being able to ogle all the men around her. But thanks to fucking winter, it was a different story. Everyone was in jackets and gloves. And even though seeing Arlo in a beanie was doing things to her, it was easier to pay attention to the tasks she helped with. So maybe it was for the best that they were all clothed properly anyway.

Sigh.

Wendy had spent all morning ogling Tate in those goddamned leggings, and after their yoga session was over, she had raced upstairs to take a cold shower.

And now she wanted a hot shower, because the cold was gross. She was sporting a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket she’d borrowed from Nic. It was way too large, but he’d rolled the sleeves back for her, and it kept her warm from shoulder to fucking knee, it was so long. So what if she also caught whiffs of Nic’s scent throughout the evening?

The others joined them shortly and were dressed in variations of hoodies and jeans, which was boring, but understandable. It wouldn’t be very fair for them to work shirtless in thirty-five-degree weather, would it?

Sigh.

“Nic, do you wanna help me lay out the pieces we have?” Griffith questioned. “Tate, can you use a saw?”

“Yeah, totally,” the alpha answered, happy to step forward. “I helped build a lot of the cat stands at the rescue and adoption place.”

“Oh, is that where you work?” Griffith asked, small talk for the win.

“Yeah—”

“He owns it,” Wendy and Arlo called out. Tate glanced over at them with a chagrined expression.

“You’re learning,” Arlo murmured for her ears only.

Wendy felt like floating. What was it about these two that gave her butterflies and turned her blood to bubbles?

Tate took Griffith’s place, and Wendy watched as Nic gathered the cut pieces and carried them off, leaving Arlo behind to look over her shoulder.

Wendy listened to them talk as she made more measurements, turning the wood from side to side and making sure to mark each one.

“Your cuts are straighter than mine.” Tate’s voice broke in right after the saw began to whirr, a pout in his tone as he studied the cut he’d made by himself.

He held it up to the light.

Wendy snickered at the crooked piece before meeting Tate’s gaze.

“What do you mean? It looks great!” she lied, waving a hand at his work. Wendy paused, then offered Tate a mischievous grin. “Your wood looks just fine.”

Arlo snorted and dropped off the next piece to be cut while glancing over the work himself. “Can confirm,” he added.

Tate groaned, palming his face with one hand. “Why are you two like this?”

But when he lowered his hand, his pink lips were curled in a smile.

“What are you guys talking about?” Griffith asked, wandering over to scan his progress. He’d definitely taken the lead on the construction of everything, and even while it kind of irritated her to look to yet another alpha for guidance, she would be lost otherwise. Who the hell just knew how to build a bedframe?

Apparently, Griffith did.

“This crooked ass piece of wood,” Tate complained.

“It looks like you’re handling your wood just fine,” Griffith teased, joining in on the fun.

Tate’s cheeks were growing redder and redder, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the breeze.