Page 23 of Blue Moon Mistress

Less than thirty seconds later, the blender has buzzed a handful of times, and he takes the pitcher to the stove, pulling out a cast iron pan that had been warming in the oven. The entirety of the batter goes in and I watch it start to bubble immediately as he puts the pitcher in the sink with the water on.

“That’s a big pancake.”

“Only way I know how to make them,” he says with a chuckle a moment before squirting dish soap into the blender and setting it back on the base. “I’ll deal with that later.”

Snatching the honey bear from the island beside my coffee, he squeezes out a pattern that I could have mistaken for a sigil, if I thought he’d put any thought into it.

He flips the pancake and it’s a gorgeous golden brown.

“Looks delicious.” I press a quick kiss to his cheek and he blushes.

He pretends to swat at me with the spatula. “Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”

Snatching my coffee, I step around the island and get another good look at the three men at the table.

No one in their right mind would mistake them for brothers, but they’re so used to each other that they’ve lost some of that stiffness…

Wolves are volatile creatures.

Packs are obsessed with power and control.

No one in this house is competing with anyone else. It hasn’t entered their mind.

Maybe getting my werewolf facts from witches isn’t a reliable source.

Joshua stands and nods for me to sit. “The table’s only big enough for four and you did most of the work last night.”

There’s an empty seat, but I have a feeling Chase hasn’t eaten yet. And Joshua’s the first one I’d expect to offer up his chair.

Joshua’s normal place is the side of the built-in bench with his back to the window, with Thomas on the other side of the built-in corner seat, Johnny on his right, and Chase across from him. Packs like this have routines—even if they don’t always notice them.

They fall into patterns that are easy for someone on the outside and in the know to see.

Chase opens the microwave, and when he comes to the table, it’s with my enormous pancake and his enormous steak.

“If it’s not perfectly crispy on the edges, I want you to tell me so I can get it right.”

That is not a promise I’m going to make.

Luckily, Joshua hands me a bottle of boysenberry syrup before I might have to. I thank them both and dig in as Thomas reminds Joshua that someone’s coming over this afternoon to look at their buggy water heater.

“Why can’t you meet him?”

“Practice,” he says with a shrug.

“On a Sunday?” I ask.

Thomas looks at me and shrugs. “It’s a small town. And as someone who grew up in a small town, I can tell you, the ‘football is everything’ mentality transcends all other regional and state quirks.”

I keep eating as Joshua grudgingly agrees—he and the plumber don’t get along, as far as I can tell. Chase has to work later, slinging drinks at one of the two places that stay open after nine pm on the weeknights and are open Sundays. And Johnny…

“I’m off for two more days.” Something in the way he says it, tells me he’s not on vacation. But I don’t ask. I just push my plate forward stuffed full and let Thomas pull me along the bench seat until I’m pressed up against him.

“What about you?” Johnny asks. “What do you have to get done today?”

“Another day, another cemetery.” I drop my head against Thomas’ shoulder. “This one is not going to be anywhere near as fun.”

“I’d hope not.” Thomas’ whole body vibrates beneath me.

---