Captivated By The She-Wolf. Kristal Hollis

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      “Everything you do is either for Alex or the store. Once in a while, it’s okay to do something just for you. Besides.” Nel made an exaggerated pouty face. “It’s unlucky to make a pregnant woman sad.”

      Ronni didn’t need any more bad luck. “What time?”

      Surprise lit Nel’s face. “Ten o’clock. We do a leisurely brunch in the resort’s restaurant, then a full massage, followed by a manicure and pedicure which is a-mazing.”

      “Sounds nice.” Ronni’s voice fell unintentionally flat.

      “Don’t tell me you’re coming and then skip out,” Nel said. “It’ll hurt my feelings.”

      “I’ll be there.”

      “Good.” Nel slipped the straps to her bag onto her shoulder. “We’ll see you Sunday at ten.”

      After Nel left, Ronni pulled the laptop from beneath the counter. As her nails clicked the keyboard, Ronni silently admitted it was time for a good manicure and decided she was actually looking forward to spa day.

      By the time the chimes above the door jingled, Ronni realized she’d spent nearly two hours searching online fabric wholesalers for Nel’s project.

      “Welcome to The Stitchery,” she greeted the newcomers, an older Native American woman and a teenager.

      “You’re Alex’s mom, right?”

      “Yes. You must be Willow.” The girl’s long, black straight hair fell midway down her back and her flawless skin was a shade lighter than her father’s.

      The teenager’s eyes, a light brown with golden flecks just like her father’s, widened. “I am.”

      “I met your dad yesterday. He said you would come by today.” Ronni walked from behind the counter toward the older woman. “I’m Ronni.” She extended her hand as human custom dictated. “You must be Bodie’s mother.”

      “Mary.” The woman accepted the greeting but there was no warmth in it. She had the same sharp angles in her face as Bodie, but her eyes were an espresso color and the black hair pulled back in a severe bun was laced with threads of silver.

      “I have the list of supplies you need,” Ronni said to Willow. “What are you making?”

      “A study pillow.” Willow took her phone from her book bag. “Like this, but cuter.”

      The photo was a basic blue rectangle throw pillow with a small red pocket in the top left corner to hold pens and pencils and a gray pocket on the right side large enough to tuck a small book and homework papers inside it.

      “Pick out the fabrics you like.” Ronni pointed to the upright bolts of material loaded on standing shelves and stacked on wall racks. “I suggest a neutral main color, such as something in a gray or taupe pattern. Brighter colors will fade with use.”

      “Gray and taupe aren’t cute,” Willow said.

      “No, but they are a good balance if you’re using fun, colorful fabric for the pockets.”

      “Okay.” Willow strolled through the aisles, running her fingers over the bolts of material.

      “Please, have a seat, Mary.” Ronni motioned to the table and chairs in the corner. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

      “Black coffee.”

      Ronni went into the small kitchenette in the back, filled a medium-size disposal cup with hot coffee and gave it to Mary.

      “You shouldn’t have given Willow so many choices.” Mary waved her hand. “She’ll take forever.”

      “I don’t mind,” Ronni replied mildly, joining her at the table. “If Willow takes her time, she’ll be happier with her selections.”

      “It’s just a school project. As long as she gets a good grade, what difference does the material choices make?”

      “Kids should be happy as much as possible. When they become adults, those moments may become few and far between.”

      “You sound like my son,” Mary said. “Willow is his whole world.”

      “My son, Alex, is mine.”

      “Oh, yes. Alex.” The flat corners of Mary’s mouth dipped. “Willow talks a lot about him and a boy named Lucas. She wanted to go to the football game with them Friday night but Bodie decided to take her himself.”

      Ronni’s heart flip-flopped. “Bodie is going to the game?”

      “Apparently.” Mary’s frown deepened.

      With the situation with Jeb looming, this was not the time for Ronni to feel all giddy and such. Still, her hormones switched on and she had a difficult time containing her smile.

      As long as Friday morning’s video conference with the Woelfesenat went well, then Ronni would be more than ready to explore the spark between her and Bodie.

      * * *

      “This space is a temporary location.” Tristan chowed down on the burger delivered by room service to his office, a small conference room on the second floor of the resort. “We have plans to build an actual emergency services building to house the Co-op’s LEO, EMTs and fire rescuers.”

      “Your Co-op really is becoming its own city.” Bodie swiped a paper napkin across his mouth, greasy from his burger.

      So far, he’d learned the Co-op was an entirely member-supported entity. They prided themselves not only on their thriving wolf population but also on taking care of their own. From education to healthcare to homes and business start-ups, the Co-op made sure no member was left struggling.

      To Bodie, whose own people were few and scattered, the Walker’s Run Cooperative’s close-knit, family-style operation sounded like paradise.

      “Yes and no,” Tristan said. “We still rely on water and power from Maico’s public utility services. And all Co-op businesses are in and around Maico.”

      “Is The Stitchery one of those businesses?”

      Nodding, Tristan swallowed another bite of his food, confirming what Bodie had suspected. “Why do you ask?”

      “I met Ronni at Mabel’s the other day. I figured if she was a Co-op member, you would know her.”

      “I know pretty much everyone in these parts. Co-op or not.”

      Bodie wasn’t surprised. When he’d worked with Tristan during the fires, the man never seemed to meet a stranger.

      “Word of advice,” Tristan said. “Since she’s been here, Ronni has shot down all suitors. Don’t take it personally if she gives you the cold shoulder.”

      “Does she usually give out her number?”

      Tristan looked up from his food. His СКАЧАТЬ