Page 3 of Wolf Found

If they were going to hire someone who didn’t know how to bake, Ash ought to do it himself, even if he ended up buying baking mixes and cookie dough in bulk. He’d been taking classes and trying to learn, but as it turned out, baking as a skill took more than a few months to perfect.

“We could always post a job opening online,” Sawyer suggested, dodging Gavin’s question.

Ash frowned at the idea and shook his head. It wouldn’t work. “And have Waylon find it and quit because we’re looking for someone to replace him? There’s a better than average chance if we list the job, he’ll see. Let’s be honest, we know he’s looking for another job. He wants to work at a resort, and we’re not that.”

“So, what, we’re not allowed to look for something better, but he is?” Uh oh. Sawyer was offended, and that was no good. The last thing they needed was an offended Sawyer. He was the official pack ray of sunshine, and if he wasn’t happy, no one was happy.

Ash threw up his hands defensively. “I’m not saying that! Just, we’re in a more tenuous position than he is, since we can’t prove he’s looking, but if we put up an ad, it’d be right there in black and white.”

There was a knock on the front door, and Sawyer rolled his eyes and pushed off Dez’s lap. “I’ll go point out the closed sign. Some people have no common sense.”

They were sitting in a circle of overstuffed chairs toward the back of the shop where they often held meetings after they closed in the evening. It was convenient and allowed them to avoid taking their daily annoyances home.

So mostly, Waylon. Or whoever was baking at the time, since he wasn’t even the worst of the lot.

They’d hired a bunch of young baristas, mostly late teens and early twenty-somethings who were attending the Kismet branch of Colorado Mountain College. It specialized in all things hospitality, from cooking to hotel management. The resort was the perfect place for that, and they teamed with the college to give the students experience, but college students could always use extra income.

Ash had expected nineteen-year-old baristas would be more trouble than forty- and fifty-something bakers, but he’d been woefully naive about that.

“We’re closed,” Sawyer said, tapping the sign and looking at whoever was outside.

All four of them clearly heard the snide response. “Open the door, omega. Now.” There was something familiar about the voice, but Ash dismissed it. It was probably the traditionalist tone, which Ash was all too familiar with.

They all turned to look at Sawyer, whose lips were pursed, eyes gone hard and flat.

Dez grinned, and he looked downright charmed. “He’s gonna open the door just so he can kick their asses.”

Gavin sighed, pushed out of his chair, and went over to where Sawyer stood. They spoke quietly to each other for a moment, too low for even Ash to hear, and then Sawyer shrugged. Gavin nodded and turned to the door. “You can apologize to my packmate for your attitude, or you can come back during business hours, like anyone else.”

There was silence for a long, tense moment before Gavin shrugged and turned away. Dez held a hand out to Sawyer, who started toward him before there was a deep sighing groan, more dramatic than real.

“I’m sorry for my attitude, alpha.”

“Omega,” Gavin corrected. “You’re apologizing to Sawyer, and he’s an omega.”

Ash literally heard the grinding of teeth from all the way outside the building. “I’m sorry, omega,” came out stilted, through clenched teeth, no doubt.

Gavin turned to Sawyer. “Your call. I’m not impressed, but it wasn’t for me.”

Sawyer, who’d resumed his position on Dez’s lap, leaned over and looked to the door. Then he shrugged. “Might as well let him in and get it over with, so he doesn’t stink up the shop during business hours.” He gave Gavin a wicked grin. “You have my permission to open the door, Gavin, dear.”

With a lavish, overdone bow to Sawyer, Gavin turned and flipped the latch. “Come in—I’d say gentlemen, but clearly that would be incorrect.”

Two betas came in, looking disgruntled, glaring at Gavin and then glancing over to the area where Ash sat next to Dez and Sawyer.

The bottom dropped out of Ash’s universe at the sight of them.

One of them ignored him completely, going to sit, uninvited, in the chair across from Dez. It was Gavin’s chair, probably still warm from his ass having been planted there a moment earlier. The other glanced guiltily at Ash, then away, lowering his eyes and moving to stand behind the seated man, gaze trained on the floor. Ash knew the posture well; he’d spent two thirds of his life in it.

In the Martingale pack, every beta—and alpha—was apprenticed to someone above them. They were assigned to follow them around, watch their every move, and learn their jobs so that someday, they could take their place in the pack. Ash had never imagined seeing these two men again in his life, let alone in an apprenticed pair.

One, the arrogant man who’d taken Gavin’s seat, was Asher’s father. The other was the man Ash had once believed to be the love of his life.

He decided, very strongly, that he’d prefer to go back to discussing Waylon and how difficult it was to hire a good pastry chef in a very small resort town.

“Alpha,” Ash’s father started, inclining his head to Dez.

It was a common enough mistake. Ash, Dez, and Gavin were all alphas. Alphas were rare, and three in a single pack was unheard of. The three of them had formed their group dynamic before Dez and Gavin had become wolves, and while they acted as equals in most situations, Gavin was unquestionably the alpha of them all. He’d been their commanding officer, and he always would be.

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