Page 3 of Because You Rejected Me

And, every week, I took a few crates of veggies over to the hotel as well. No matter how many times Sam offered to pay for them, I turned him down. When I’d shown up in Shifter Grove all those years ago with no pack, no family, and nowhere to go, he took me in without question. He was a werewolf like me, and both of us rogue Alphas. The bond of friendship grew quickly between us, and even after all my time in Shifter Grove, he was really my only friend.

Sure, I was nice to everyone. I had to be if I wanted to keep my customers. But I liked to keep to myself. I still remember what it was like being part of a pack and having a big family way back when. And how they all turned on me the moment I told them I was different. I just never had a reason to trust anyone again after that, except Sam, of course.

But I tried not to think about all that. I loved my life in Shifter Grove. It was quiet, peaceful, and I could just do my own thing. I had my own house, my garden, my coffee, and no neighbors to see my dick flopping in the wind every morning. It was sheer bliss. And that’s how it was going to stay if I had anything to say about it. While the world outside my property got more complicated, my world did not. I was just a simple wolf living off the land. What more could a guy ask for?

After five minutes of wandering around the garden and taking stock of everything, I inevitably found some weeds that needed to be pulled. Crouching down, I sat my mug in the grass and began to work. Before I knew it, I’d worked my way down the entire path, checking on things and harvesting as I went, my coffee abandoned and cold at the other end of the garden. After a quick trip to the shed for a crate, I collected my harvest for the day along with my coffee mug and headed back to the house. There, I sprayed them all down, getting off as much of the soil as I could. Of course, by then, I was completely covered in dirt, sweat, and mud myself. Gardening naked came with the understanding that showering was a frequent experience.

Instead of going inside and tracking mud through the house, I just stood out on the small porch and sprayed myself down with the hose. I kept a spare bar of soap out there for just such occasions. The water from the hose was freezing cold, but after the heat of the sun on my skin all morning, I relished the sudden shock that caused goosebumps to break out over my body. I soaped myself up and rinsed myself off once more before grabbing my hat and taking a seat in the single lawn chair I had.

Stretching out on it, I let the sun dry me off, turning myself over halfway through. By the time I’d finished with all of that, it was getting close to noon, and I figured I should probably get moving. Sam liked to have enough food in the hotel for his guests, and dinner was the meal they usually requested. Besides, I could chat with him a while and maybe grab lunch in town. I had a hankering for french fries that I just couldn’t shake.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the lawn chair. Putting clothing on was the worst part of the day, but necessary if I wanted to go into town. Sam was a good friend, but we weren’t that close. And I doubted he wanted my balls all over his furniture anyway.

Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into the rear entrance of the hotel in my rusty old pickup. The back entrance went directly into the kitchens, where the walk-in cooler was. I had a key to the place, thanks to Sam, so I grabbed a crate and headed inside. Before I’d even made it back to fetch the second, Sam appeared.

“There you are!” he smiled, pulling me into a quick hug. He nearly knocked my hat off but reached up and put it back in place. “Took your time this morning, huh? I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up today.”

“I’m here every Tuesday,” I replied. “You know that.”

“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time.” He gave me a nudge. “Want some help?”

“Sure.”

Sam followed me out of the truck, the pair of us making three more trips to bring all the produce into the cooler. Once we had it in there, I helped him put everything in its proper place. After delivering for years, I knew where he kept each little thing. It was ten minutes of comfortable silence. Sam, thankfully, understood I wasn’t much of a talker.

“Well,” he said, helping me carry the empty crates back to my truck. “I suppose you’ll be wanting lunch.”

“I can grab something on the way home,” I replied. “I know it’s late.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.” Sam was always happy to feed just about anybody. The man loved to cook. “What have you got the taste for?”

“Fries,” I said simply.

He rolled his eyes. “You and your french fries. I swear. You’d think a werewolf would say something like steak or burgers. But not you.” He clapped me on the back, leading me back inside. “One day, you’re gonna wake up and find that you are made of nothing but potato.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“If that’s what your heart desires,” he sighed. “I guess it’s fine.”

We stepped into the kitchen, Sam directing me to a seat at one end of a long stainless steel prepping bench. He went into the cooler and came back with all the fixings for a decent lunch. There were potatoes, to be sure, but also some greens, tomatoes, onions, two small chicken breasts, and a bucket of ranch dressing.

“You know me too well,” I said, looking at the ranch.

“I’ve fed you every week for the past five years,” he replied. “And more often before that. I ought to know what you like by now.”

“Are you eating too?” I asked, looking at the extra chicken breast.

“No, I already had lunch. But I had a new wolf wander in pretty late last night.” He sighed, pushing the potatoes toward me. “Cut these up while I prep everything else.”

That piqued my curiosity. It wasn’t very often that a new wolf wandered into town. Back when Sam first started the hotel, there was a bit of a glut. But as the world slowly began to accept more types of people, so too did the wolf packs. They had no other choice. I had a cousin in the Allard pack on the other side of the state whose pack nearly disintegrated due to stodgy traditional pack laws. The younger generation just didn’t put up with that sort of thing anymore.

“What’s the new guy like?” I asked, pulling out a knife and cutting board. Sam would kill me if I used a knife directly on the steel table.

“It’s not like you to be nosy,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow in my direction.

“Just curious,” I said with a shrug. “Not a lot of excitement at my place.”

“If you’d try to find a boyfriend, I bet that would be different.”

---