Page 15 of Strawberry Moon

Ford

Working through all those scents was... clarifying.

No, not because any of them smelled good or gave me that soothing rush of calming pheromones I’d get from a mate.

It was just something to focus on, some kind of work that I could do. And I was protecting Cliff, protecting pack.

Didn’t hurt that I didn’t give much of a damn if this stuff killed me or not. It’d reveal Sterling as a threat, and that was the best thing I could do for the pack.

None of them seemed toxic. Well, some of themsmelledtoxic, and none terribly appetizing. But none of them made me sick, and other than the Condition, most anything that could take a werewolf out had to work quickly.

The whole time I sniffed, Archer was looking down at his phone, his thumbs flying over the keys.

“Are you seriously texting right now?” The guy was younger than me, sure, but he didn’t seem like the sort to be glued to his phone all the time.

He glared at me. “No. I’m taking notes. No way I’m going to remember how you felt about number seven once I get back to the lab.”

“Oh. Well, good.” I’d never used my phone like that before, but I guess it made sense. Phones nowadays were more powerful than most computers I was used to.

“Yup. Flipping great,” he muttered, glaring down at his screen again.

I didn’t know if he understood that werewolves could hear everything around them, or if he just didn’t care if I heard him mouthing off. I’d never met anewwolf—one who wasn’t born but made.

By the time I stoppered the last vial, Archer slid his phone into his pocket.

I could have offered to let Cliff try the samples right then, but I didn’t. Truth was, I was satisfied that nothing in them were fast or toxic enough to kill an alpha wolf. And frankly, fast and hard was about the only way to kill an alpha.

But maybe Archer was just trying to get our guard down. Or maybe I wanted to be the one at the center of this, the one he went to for this sort of thing.

My wolf didn’t like the idea of pointing him back to Cliff.

“So you need these back.”

“Yeah.” He took the bag and crossed his arms. “Your notes helped. I can take this. Work with it. Would you be willing to try some other samples once I refine them?”

“Sure would.” I grinned at him. It felt sharp and vicious on my face. A strange feeling worked through my marrow, and I shut my lips. “But I’m pretty busy. Can you come out to the farm?”

“That’s fine.” Archer had shifted the bag around. He wasn’t looking directly at me, and I knew—Iknew—he wasn’t baring his neck to me, but I saw the edge of his jaw, his full, soft, copper stubble over his pale skin. My wolf perked up with interest at that tempting swath of skin.

I should have known which car was his—it was a deep charcoal gray, sleek and beautiful. The kind of car I’d have fantasized about when I was a boy, before I’d realized the damn things cost more than any house I’d ever live in.

Archer opened the back door.

“That fancy car of yours rated for dirt roads?” I asked.

With a jerk backward, he narrowed his eyes my way again. “Rated? That’s... not a thing.”

I cocked a brow at him.

“It’ll be fine,” he insisted, dropping his satchel of suspect scent vials into the back seat before slamming the door and moving to the front. “And if it’s not? I can fix it.”

I sat forward, gripping the edge of the tailgate. “That what you do, huh? You fix things?”

He looked square at me. “Yeah, Ford. That is what I do. I fix things.”

He slid into the front seat, and I was still staring after him even as he slammed the door without another word. A couple seconds later, his car sped out of sight.

For a little while, I sat there in the middle of town, staring at the road that went straight out of it. I couldn’t place the rumbling, pleased feeling in my chest. It wasn’t that I liked Archer Sterling. I couldn’t imagine that—cozying up to someone tied all up in Sterling’s crimes.

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