Page 24 of Possessive Alpha

Before I can follow Regan into the kitchen to help her with the baking she’d planned on doing, Jackson sticks his head out of his office.

His eyes lock on me and he waves me over. “Ah, I thought I heard your voice. I need to speak to you.”

My eyes bounce between Jackson and Regan as I mentally run through everything I’ve said and done over the last couple of days. “Because I’m in trouble?”

It feels like I’m in trouble.

He flashes me a grin. “Nothing like that. Can I borrow her for a minute, baby?” he asks Regan.

“Five minutes, and don’t give her another job,” Regan warns him. “She’s one of the hardest workers here already.”

“I am?”

Regan flashes me a grin. “Don’t look at me like that. I’d have killed every living thing in that kitchen garden months ago if you hadn’t stepped in. And you’re always helping someone. You do plenty.”

“She does,” Jackson says, making space in the doorway for me to enter. “Which is what this talk is about.”

Still confused, I follow Jackson into his office.

It’s my first time in his domain, and I do a quick sweep on my way to taking a seat on one of two wooden chairs in front of his desk in the center of the room.

There’s not much to capture my attention. Masses of papers cover the surface of his desk. A large window overlooks the side of the house, and most surprising of all is a big, pale pink loveseat tucked in the corner. Not what I’d expected to find in such a masculine space or an alpha’s office.

Jackson spots me staring at the cozy, fuzzy-looking seat and snorts as he drops into his office chair. “Regan’s idea. She thought I’d need somewhere soft to take a break.”

“That’s sweet of her.” I smile.

He grins at me. “I think it was less about my comfort and more about hers. You have no idea how many times we’ve taken a nap right there in the middle of the day.”

All his love for her is right there in his whiskey-brown eyes and it makes me think of Ty and of how much I want to enjoy naps with him in the middle of the day.

Jackson sweeps papers aside, revealing a cell phone he buried beneath. “I wondered what had happened to that.” And before I can ask him what exactly he wanted to talk to me about, he reaches into a drawer beside him, pulls something out and places a card on the table, sliding it toward me. “Here.”

I look at the credit card, and I make no move to take it. “I can’t accept that.”

“You,” he pushes the card closer to my side of the table, “are pack. And you do too much around here for us not to trust you with this.”

“I don’t want your money, Jackson.”

“Good, because I’m not giving you my money. This is pack money, and you are pack.” I’m complaining when he keeps talking. “Regan and I know you’ve been buying seeds for the garden and anything else we need when you go into town. We also know that despite us saying you should come to us so we can reimburse you, you keep doing it.”

He’s right.

It was okay when I was working, but here, I’m not working.

It seemed silly to drive into town and not pick up groceries I knew we’d run out of while I was there. I’d tell myself I’d get the money back from Regan or Jackson, but I never did. Sometimes I forgot. Other times, it was only a few bucks, so I kept quiet because they gave so much to Clara and me for free.

But slowly, five dollars here and ten dollars there have been eating away at all my savings.

And even knowing that, I still don’t pick up the card.

“I could just borrow the card when I need it,” I tell him, “so there’s no reason to give it to me.”

“There will be times I’ll be in a meeting and Regan will be busy. This way, you don’t have to ask for permission. You can just grab whatever we need.”

“I could leave with the card. Maybe splurge on a new car,” I warn him.

The new car is only a joke, but the leaving is entirely too possible.

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