Page 7 of Jesse
I passed a few elders sipping tea near the porch, nodded at them, then took the familiar path to Cooper’s office. My boots echoed faintly against the floor as I moved.
I took a steadying breath and knocked.
“Come in,” Cooper’s voice called from inside.
I opened the door and stepped in, doing a quick read of his expression. Solid, calm, no glower. Good. I counted that as a win.
“Jesse,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him, “have a seat.”
I sat, careful not to slump like a teenager getting scolded.
“Colton said you needed me right away?” I asked.
Cooper gave me a once-over, frowning slightly as his eyes caught on the flour dusted down my apron. “Did you come straight from the festival?”
“Sure did,” I said. “Didn’t even get to finish my shift. Thought this was urgent.”
“I should’ve told Colton you could come after your shift. I know how important the event is for the truck, and for you,” he said.
My brows lifted a little. Was that… support I heard?
“But since you’re here…” he trailed off, and just like that, my stomach twisted. That tone never meant good things.
He leaned forward, folding his hands over the desk. “You’re aware Maurice and Ralph are retiring soon?”
I blinked. “Yeah, of course. They’ve been with the pack forever. Maurice taught me how to gut a fish. I’m still emotionally scarred.”
Cooper didn’t smile. Not even a twitch. Okay then. Serious serious.
“They’re our longest-serving enforcers. Their retirement leaves a big gap to fill,” he said.
And suddenly, I could see exactly where this conversation was heading, and I did not like it.
“…If I recall correctly, your uncle George and grandfather Peter were also enforcers.”
I leaned back in my chair like I’d been slapped. “Alpha, I need to stop you right there.”
Cooper raised an eyebrow and waited.
“I mean this with all the love and respect in the world,” I said, hand on my chest. “But being an enforcer doesn’t run in thegenes. That line skipped me entirely. I’m the family glitch. You know, the burnt-out lightbulb in the warrior bloodline.”
“Jesse,” he said, voice calm, “Sawyer and I have been evaluating potential candidates. You’re on the list.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. My brain scrambled for reasons, excuses, arguments.
The fact that I hadn’t punched anyone in months. That my last ‘official’ fight ended with me apologizing because the guy started crying.
“Look,” I said, leaning forward. “I’m not your guy. My whole focus has been the food truck. I’ve been building the menu, getting feedback, prepping for the festival like crazy. I’m not looking to trade my spatula for anything else.”
“I understand,” he said evenly.
But before I could exhale in relief, his phone buzzed.
Cooper checked the screen. His face tightened immediately. “One moment.”
I nodded, slumping back again, heart still hammering from that left-field job proposal. Enforcer. Seriously?
I zoned out for a second, tuning into the soft murmur of the call. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, okay, I was, but I wasn’t being creepy about it.
