Page 35 of The Alpha's Arranged Bride

Prairie Rose spun around to face him and her bright, trusting smile assuaged his fears somewhat.

“Alright,” he told the boys. “But make sure you’re out of the way. Listen to Rome, please. Remember, it’s an auto repair shop with tools, dangerous and heavy equipment, and people working who might not even see you to know you’re there.”

“We’ll be careful,” Blake promised. He took Levi’s hand and his little brother nodded with his straw still in his mouth, the juice box bobbing up and down.

“Tadpole?” Levi asked, slurping up the juice that dribbled down his chin. “Isn’t that a baby frog?”

“It is.” The lanky blond man grinned like he didn’t mind being asked rude questions by complete strangers. He seemed to get that kids didn’t have much of a filter, especially not young boys. “It’s because the guys say that I can’t sit still. I’m always jumping from one thing to another, job to job, in here, out there, running errands, driving around.”

“I can show you some of Tadpole’s work,” Rome offered, and the boys nodded. They were fascinated and under the spell of the garage before they were even through the door that led them to where the real magic happened.

Connor took his chair back up at the desk, leaning back so far it seemed the thing would break under his weight.

Tadpole made a motion that said they should follow him down the hall. Prairie Rose went first, and it was instinctive for him to trail behind, watching her back when she couldn’t. He wasn’t going to let down his guard no matter where he was. They walked past a series of offices with the doors open and the lights off.

Tadpole stopped at one halfway down and flicked the switch. He had a huge desk in there and it was full of drawings, papers spread all over. Decals and drafts of his work hung all over the walls. Sketchbooks, pencils, pens, markers, and three different laptops as well as two tablets littered the remaining space on the curved white desk. There were a few chairs in there, all pushed up against the wall. It was probably supposed to look like a professional office, but it looked more like a storm had blown through the place.

“Sorry, it’s a mess,” Tadpole apologized, sweeping papers and debris to one side. He grabbed one of his laptops and cracked the lid. “I know it probably looks like I’m the last person who could help you, but I promise, I’m good with my hands. I can make anything. Fabrication, decals, artwork of any sort, I’m your guy. I was drawing for as long as I can remember, painting, welding, carving wood, even sewing.” He lifted his hands. “If it can be done with these, then I’m down for it. I’m good with technology too, so all those fab machines and 3D printing, I got interested in that early on and I’ve been at it for years now. The guys call me a prodigy, but I’m a little old for that. I always wanted to be a graphic designer but…” He shrugged and a shadow passed over his face before he chased it away with a genuine smile. “Things happened and I ended up here instead. I like it a lot more than sitting behind some desk working for some big company. I can do so much more where I am now, and I didn’t have to spend a dime on college tuition. Everyone says if you’re a good artist, skip the college education. They’re only going to teach you how to hate what you thought you loved.”

“Oh?” Prairie Rose grabbed one of the hard black plastic chairs. She sat down, but backwards, straddling the seat and clutching the back.

“Do you mind if I have a look at what I’m working with?” Tadpole eyed Agnar’s hands.

He had the childish urge to thrust them behind his back, but he’d only hurt Prairie Rose by acting ashamed. He could pretend for five minutes that he wasn’t.

He held them out in front of him, ignoring the way they wanted to tremble. He forced them open as far as they would give, fingers up as high as he could raise them, even the ones that wanted to curl inwards. He raised them in the air like an absolute imbecile. He wanted to snort and wave Tadpole off, grab Prairie Rose, and tell everyone this was a mistake, and it wasn’t going to work. Instead, he forced his mind to what the boys were doing and seeing. They’d think it was some kind of magic being worked in there. It probably was. Mechanics was something he’d never had a talent for. He was good at working with his hands, like Tadpole, but it was a different kind of working. His pen was an axe and his artform was blood.

Was. Had been. Not. Anymore.

Before he could curl his hands into pathetic fists, Tadpole shot across the room, just about literally bouncing. Prairie Rose bit down on her lower lip, stifling a laugh. Her eyes were still shining. It was good to see her happy.

“May I?” Tadpole tried to take his hands, but stopped, looking up at Agnar for permission. He was suddenly very grave, and it made Agnar feel strangely comforted. Tadpole was going to take this seriously and he very clearly wanted to help.

Agnar nodded.

He managed not to pull away, even as Tadpole bent his blond head over him, clearly frowning. He studied the palms for a long time before he finally moved his fingers over them and spread out, analyzing and learning by touch.

Prairie Rose shot out of the chair suddenly. Tadpole froze, and so did Agnar, at the fiercely protective expression she couldn’t control. She froze too and tried to laugh it off, realizing that she’d just reacted like a mate protecting another who was in danger of being hurt.

She grabbed a sketchbook off the corner of the desk. “Can I look through this?”

“Sure. I make art because I can’t not make art, but it’s nice when it gets appreciated. Not that you have to appreciate it.”

She flipped the cover and immediately sighed. “Wow.” The pages flicked past carefully. Sometimes she’d pause and look at one of the sketches for a long while. Some of them were colored and others pencil or black pen. “I like that you don’t really have a style. Or maybe that is your style. It’s incredible that you can do all of these, and they all look like they’re done by different people.”

Agnar watched as Tadpole’s face got pink. He tried to hide it by ducking further over his hands. “You know they make casts out of stuff like this now, instead of fiberglass?”

“I didn’t. This is already healed, though.”

The other man’s fingers pressed over every angle of his hands, turning them over to explore the knuckles. Oddly, it didn’t feel invasive. “There’s no making corrections without further surgery, but I could make the braces for you. I’d need you to come to my house later. It’s private. More private than here, even, so I can measure the wolf and do some tracings. I have the printer there, so I could send you with them if you’re willing to wait a little.”

Prairie Rose looked up, her eyes shooting directly to him. Whatever she felt, he felt it too. It wasn’t an emotion. It was… something else. They way that two things pair together to create something astonishingly new.

“I’ll be there.”

He’d leave Prairie Rose and the boys with her brother, even if it killed him to have to put his trust in someone like that. Someone full of shadows and dark menace. Then again, wasn’t Prairie Rose putting her trust in him? He was far worse than Rome and he’d been far more dangerous. Prairie Rose looked at him with grace. She’d put her hand in his when they’d done their mating ceremony, trusting him to take her to a brand-new life. He could put his faith in her and her family. Her brother was now raising a little girl and Prairie Rose was his sister. He’d no doubt keep her and the children safe, whatever the cost. He’d only be gone for a few hours.

It hit hard, as Tadpole let go of his hands, where his thoughts had just cycled to.

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