Page 21 of Pack Favero

“You’re up early, love. Everything alright?” I ask quietly, pulling down another mug to make him a cuppa, too.

Barnes yawns, his dark hair a disarray on his head that indicates he might not have had the most restful sleep, and leans against the kitchen counter beside me. “Had the worst dream.”

“Want to talk about it?” I offer, sliding over his cup as soon as it’s made the good ol’ British way. The last time I had to watch one of my pack mates try their hand at making a cup of tea, I almost had a bloody conniption. Since then, not one of them will dare make a tea for themselves or others for fear of receiving an English verbal tongue lashing.

Barnes rubs at his face with a muttered form of gratitude before he says, “Apparently, Zira sneaking off has affected me more than I thought it could. I kept dreaming that she was taken and hurt and I couldn’t save her because I didn’t know where she was.”

Ah. I see.

“Not too dissimilar to my dreams, then. At least we know she’s safe and sound, and she received the phone without the same amount of fuss as she’s put up with us paying Shannan’s medical bills,” I offer, lips twitching when Barnes snorts his tea when he tries to laugh.

He wipes his face and shakes his head. “Too true. I don’t know how those bastards did it, but apparently, she accepted the phone with little more than a glare.”

“It was the pasta, I’ll put my money on it. After seeing the difference in her after two of your cinnamon rolls? Yeah, no doubt those pricks suckered her into accepting their lavish gift after feeding her enough carbs to send her to sleep for a week,” I snicker, gesturing my head to the front porch and taking my tea with me.

Barnes follows behind, dressed in his comfy sleeptrousers and a shirt tight enough that his nipples are visible, and I roll my eyes as I take a seat. Although my body is nothing to turn one’s nose up at, my abs still intact despite me sitting two years under forty and a decade older than the youngest of our pack that takes a seat beside me, I’m not one to show it off with tight clothing like my younger counterparts. Not that I don’t applaud them for their confidence and comfort. I’m simply happier in comfortable sweaters, loose trousers, and just general cozy clothes. Well, unless I’m forced into a suit or tuxedo, that is. Then I’ll rock one of those like the professional businessman I am.

Propping one ankle on top of my opposite knee, I take a sip of my drink, enjoying the crisp air of early morning and the pace and tranquillity of the world here, surrounded by trees and nature and all things calming.

“Think we could convince her to give us a chance if we fed her?” Barnes wonders, sounding part amused and part serious, as though he’s actually giving the idea some thought.

I shrug. “I can’t say it could hurt our cause. She did seem to enjoy the rolls yesterday morning.”

“Not enough, apparently, or she wouldn’t have snuck out while we were on the back porch talking,” Barnes argues, and I shut my mouth at that, because it’s a fair statement to make.

Just as I open my mouth to change the topic to work to distract him, Barnes and I being partners in investments and stocks when he’s not working as an art professor at the university, I hear the faint crunch of gravel. I pause and listen, the telltale sound of a car rolling down our gravel driveway, and I announce, “Looks like we have an early morning visitor.”

Barnes swallows a large mouthful of tea as he frowns, pulling the mug away in time to ask, “Who would be visiting at this hour? It’s barely eight in the morning.”

“Suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” I say, finishing mytea despite it being still too hot to consume at such a rapid pace, and placing the empty mug on the table between Barnes and me.

Propping my hand on my fist as I rest my elbow on the arm of my chair, I wait patiently for the visitor to roll down the driveway and park, the older car idling for a long moment before the ignition turns off and the door opens, revealing a sight sent from the angels above.

With her hair piled in a messy knot of ginger waves, a few pieces loose around her face to frame it to perfection, and dressed in nothing more than the tightest fucking clothing I’ve ever seen gracing a woman’s body, I watch like a hawk as Zira reaches into the car to retrieve a tote bag filled to the brim, hooking it over her shoulder before bumping her door with her hip to close it.

As soon as she’s standing upright and walking slowly toward the wooden steps that will bring her to the porch where we’re seated, I roam my eyes over every inch of her in quick succession. Her pale-green gym wear, clothing that is literally suctioned to her body and leaves no curve to the imagination, matches her eye colour, a pretty mint shade several hues lighter than my own. Creamy pale skin flashes between her sports bra that covers her perky bust and the waist band over her leggings that outline the perfect swoop of her waist and hips, and I can’t help but watch as she shivers against the chill in the air that always comes in the mornings.

I’m still watching as her sneaker-covered feet trudge up the steps and her closed fist reaches for the door, though she doesn’t knock. She pauses, and I fight the smile on my face as I watch with absolute fascination as she mentally gives herself a pep talk before finally knocking.

“You’re up early, sweetheart,” I quietly voice, not wanting to disturb the peace around us but wanting to point out that she isn’t alone on the porch.

Apparently, I’m not quiet enough, because Zira startles hard enough that she jerks back from the door and wide, green eyes snap in our direction in alarm. Slapping her hand over her chest, she sighs with relief when she finds only Barnes and me, and my smile finally breaks free when she breathes, “You scared valuable years off my life, damn it. What are you two doing skulking around out here?”

“Enjoying the view, darling,” I answer easily, eyes still on the beauty that she is and not the beauty of nature that surrounds us.

Before she can utter another word, Barnes stands and discards his tea, tucking his hands in his pocket awkwardly as he asks, “Is everything okay?”

Dropping her hand, Zira shrugs before she straightens her spine and blurts, “Well, I was only stopping by because I wanted to speak with you both. I hope it’s alright that I came by without calling. I don’t have your numbers anymore since Ford murdered my old one.”

I frown then. “I’ve added our numbers to your contacts, sweetheart. You didn’t look through your new phone yet?”

A sweet little blush stains her cheeks suddenly, and I get my answer before she utters a word. “Uh, not really? I mean, I crawled to the couch by the time the twins dropped me home and I fell asleep before I could explore the very expensive phone they replaced my old one with.”

“Ah. That’s fair. I’ll let you off just this once,” I tease, and the blush deepens enough that my grin appears once more. “Come inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can share what it is you’ve come to speak with us about.”

Zira nods, the bun atop of her head bobbling adorably before she backs up enough to let Barnes and me pass. As I do, I catch a heady hit of her scent, and my mouth instantly waters with a need to take a bite of dessert I’m not welcome to.She smells divine, of cream and banana, caramel and sugar. It’s undoubtedly my favourite fragrance in the entire world.

Swallowing hard, I follow after Barnes as we enter the house, and Barnes leads Zira to the living room while I head back to the kitchen to make another cup of tea. While I’m brewing and concocting her beverage, I hear Barnes ask Zira, “So, you’re alright? There’s nothing wrong?”

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