Page 26 of Wolf Found

“And I didn’t know you either,” Graham agreed, nodding along. “I thought I did then, but I was a kid. Mostly, I knew you were beautiful and nice to me.”

Ash hated that among his childhood pack, that was an anomaly. A future high-ranking member of the pack being nice to an omega child. He pulled Graham in tight. “I should have been nicer. You were pretty awesome.”

Graham gave him a patient—if disbelieving—expression, but pushed into him, almost like a playful shoulder-shove. Then he put his head on Ash’s shoulder and left it.

Something uncoiled in Ash’s belly that he hadn’t even realized was there. Had he always carried that tension, and Graham had taken it away? Either way, it was nice. He let his hand fall from Graham’s shoulder to his waist and left it there all the way to his car.

* * *

It wasn’t toohard to pick out the problem when Ash pulled into the shop’s parking area and almost couldn’t get into a parking space because of the two tour buses. No wonder they were busy; Gavin must be going nuts, not able to serve everyone as fast as he’d like.

Gavin didn’t like lines at all. It was why Sawyer usually scheduled him for afternoon and evening shifts—so he wouldn’t get stressed not being able to please everyone. Usually, he was good at making everyone happy. With food-service customers, it wasn’t always an option. There was always gonna be that one guy angry his mocha tasted like chocolate.

Sure enough, when they went in, there was a line all the way to the door. Gavin glanced up at the door with an “oh ancestors, not someone else” expression, and the relief when he realized it was Ash and Graham was palpable. He went back to working on whatever drink he was making as the people waiting on it chatted away obliviously.

Like most tour groups, they didn’t actually care that much that there was a line. They spent all day with the same people, sometimes multiple days, and they got used to it.

Well, most of them. Again, always that one guy. Most groups learned quickly to shove him to the front of the line and get him out of the way.

Unfortunately, the side effect Ash hadn’t considered was that they were busy, so there was nowhere for Graham to sit. “You can wait in the kitchen if you want,” he whispered as he rounded the counter. He pointed at the swinging door into the kitchen and turned to the sink to wash up and get to work.

A few moments later, he was ringing up customers and chatting away with them. It usually helped distract them from how long the lines were, which in turn gave Gavin a chance to calm down and go at his own pace.

He was taking an elderly woman’s order of a latte “just so she could say she was drinking coffee, when she only wanted the milk,” when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and got a glimpse of a wide-eyed Graham.

“You okay?”

“Something’s burning in the oven,” Graham whispered back. “And there’s nobody in there.”

Ash frowned, checking his watch. Barely one. He turned to Gavin, who didn’t even look up from the espresso machine. “Waylon’s gone. He complained about being asked to make an extra batch of muffins, and I reminded him he knew where the door was.”

Gavin? Gavin had basically told him to leave? He must have been especially insufferable, not just “complained.”

“Okay then.” Ash glanced at the bakery case and frowned. No muffins at all. No wonder Gavin had asked.

Behind Ash, Graham cleared his throat. “I could... um, if you need muffins?”

Ash turned and flashed him a bright smile. “Would you mind? I didn’t mean to put you to work, but—”

Graham nodded repeatedly. “I want to. Just blueberry?”

“Any muffins you want to make are the best muffins possible,” Gavin answered for Ash.

“You should make them with bacon and maple syrup,” the old lady at the counter told him. “Everyone loves that.”

Graham nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, ma’am.” And he marched into the kitchen with a determined look on his face.

15

Hero

Graham rushed back into the kitchen and opened the oven to find not only a pan of... well, he didn’t know what it was supposed to have been, but it looked as though someone had stuffed their oven mitts on top of the pan. He glanced around the kitchen and didn’t see any others.

Huh. Apparently, whoever Waylon was, he was kind of a jerk.

It didn’t take long for him to locate where they kept the kitchen towels, and layer a few of those to keep from burning his hands while taking the tray out of the oven. He set it aside to cool, and left the stack of towels there, readily available for when he’d need them.

Bacon and maple syrup, the woman had said. Muffins weren’t something he had a lot of experience with yet, but he’d made similar quick breads for special occasions before. Muffins were just made in those special tins.

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