Page 12 of Scent of Home

“Keep that cabin empty!”

Locke turns, and I see Shane’s eyes land on him, and the huge, grumpy man stops in his tracks. He looks like he’s been pole-axed. I have never seen him ever look like that. Like Locke is something to be feared, but he wants to drown in him.

Locke drifts towards him, reluctantly, as if he can’t help himself. His eyes take in all of Shane from the top of his long brown hair with its blond streaks, to the thick beard, down the flannel to the jeans, and finally, back up. Shane is huge, bigger even than Bray, he’s not got the chiseled muscles, but his body is thick, and even with the layer of padding, he is still unbelievably strong.

He also permanently rents cabin seven. A long-term tenant who is out here building his own home. He’s antisocial and barely speaks in words and still manages to offend everyone. But he’s my friend.

“I can’t. It’s for a week. I need the money,” I say flatly. It’s not true, I have enough money, but dammit, I’m sick of Shane putting limitations on how I do my business.

It’s tiring and chafes.

“Locke,” the female alpha’s warning halts the young man in his tracks.

He glances back, throws a cocky smile, and veers away from Shane like he was never going that way to begin with.

That doesn’t stop Shane from turning to keep him in view as he wanders to the bar.

Erin clears her throat. Twice.

Only then does Shane turn and spot her. I frown at the complete stupefied expression that crawls across his face. He almost looks scared.

But Erin swans past me and holds out a hand with purple nails.

“Hello, I’m Erin.”

Shane looks down at her hand and then back up at her face. He doesn’t reach out and take her hand.

“Shane, this is Erin. Erin, this is Shane. Please, forgive his rudeness, he doesn’t people much.” My ire must show in my voice because he glances at me and finally clears his throat.

He reluctantly holds out his hand and shakes Erin’s so quickly he may as well not have done it. When he’s done, he wipes his hands on his jeans.

I groan. Really? The man is the closest thing I have to a family anymore.

He grunts. I cock my head to the side, trying to fathom what thought process went through his head to come up with that as an answer.

I grind my teeth, frustrated all over again with the circumstances.

“Shane,” I warn.

His gaze flickers to me, and he turns on his heel and walks out. I watch him go with the same frustration I always feel.

But I’m not the only one. My two new guests watch him turn tail and run, too.

“Well, that went well,” I mutter. “Let me show you a couple of quick things, and I’ll take you to the cabin to relax.”

They follow me back into the main dining room. I lead them through to the reception.

I pass Erin and Locke a brochure for the resort that has a number of trails marked out with some history about the views.

“If you don’t want to attend the festivities, you can stay here or go to the lookout, the waterfalls, or just walk the trails. Here are the emergency numbers, safety instructions, how to use the heater and the fireplace. And my personal number you can ring day or night.”

I gesture to lead them onto the porch. My car’s gone, but Vance would have come and taken it to deliver their bags to the cabin.

I lead them into the woods, pointing out the markers.

“Each trail has its own colour and number. The main house is always the number one on all start points. All trails will lead you back here if you get lost. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are provided, but the booze is not included.”

The roar of the river is loud, as it always is. But it gets even more so as we follow the trail around a curve and spot the small cabin. It sits on the river’s edge, the balcony over the water. It’s my favourite cabin, and I quite often come down here to spend a few days alone.

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