Page 6 of Jesse
“What—”
“Where’s Jesse? Where’s that heartless, no-good piece of—” the angry voice snarled from the other side of the truck.
Colton turned around without missing a beat. “Jesse’s not working today,” he said, flat and emotionless like he was reading a grocery list.
“That can’t be right! A friend of mine said she saw him!”
Colton sighed, and I could hear the quiet sound of him wiping his hands on a towel. “You know how rumors are at festivals. People see what they want to see.”
It took him five full minutes to convince the other shifter I was some kind of festival ghost who never existed.
When he finally stomped off, nearly tripping over a kid’s stroller, I stood back up, brushing off my jeans like nothing had happened.
Colton didn’t even blink. “Another angry hook-up you left high and dry?”
I shrugged, grabbing the last bit of brisket from my tray and popping it in my mouth.
“I always tell them the rules. No commitment, no expectations. They agree to it. Usually,” I said.
“Usually,” Colton repeated, deadpan.
“Why are you even here, cousin? I thought I was in charge of the truck today,” I said, leveling a look at him.
“I was getting to that,” he said, pulling a towel over his shoulder. “Before one of your jilted lovers stomped up demanding blood.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Cooper was looking for you,” he added. “Said it’s important. I’ll take over for the rest of the day. You should see him first.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Seriously? Today was supposed to be mine. My shot to show everyone I wasn’t just the charming troublemaker with no direction.
I had plans. I had flavors. I wanted to make my mark, and this food truck was my first real chance to do that. But of course, pack business always came first.
“Alright,” I muttered, wiping my hands clean and heading toward the parking lot.
The sun was bright, the festival crowd louder than ever, but all I could think about was how fast my day had turned.
I climbed into my car, slammed the door shut, and started the engine. The road back to the pack compound stretched out in front of me.
Whatever Cooper wanted… it better be worth it.
By the time I rolled into the pack compound, I was still licking salt off my fingers.
Okay, yeah, I probably shouldn’t have been snacking on festival fries on the way here, but in my defense, they were freakin’ phenomenal.
Crispy, golden, piping hot and seasoned with something magical I hadn’t cracked yet. Whoever ran that truck deserved a medal. Or a menu collab.
I parked my car, popped the last fry into my mouth, and brushed my hands on my apron, because, of course, I hadn’t changed.
There was still a smudge of flour on my chest and probably a streak of grease somewhere I couldn’t see, but hey, I’d left in a rush.
Not my fault Colton made it sound like Cooper needed me immediately.
I jogged up the steps to the pack house, half expecting someone to stop me and say it was a false alarm. Maybe Cooper just wanted to compliment my new brisket rub.
That’d be a first.
The place was calm, like any regular weekend afternoon when half the pack was off having fun.
