Page 11 of Enemy Wolf

“I was just about to say,” she chuckled, stacking clean glasses in their designated areas. “He doesn’t seem like the type. Every time Sawyer and I are at the lodge, he’s always hidden away on a computer.”

Sure enough, Orson had pulled a slim laptop and small wireless mouse from his backpack and set up shop on the table. His face was aglow from the screen as he sipped his drink.

I hadn’t expected to see him again, much less as a customer. If he were to come back here at all, I’d figured it would be to apologize for acting like an absolute dick.

But time ticked by and of course, that didn’t happen. Orson just continued working alone while nursing his drink. Whatever. He had a right to be here, just like anyone else in Vargmore. A couple more Howling Death werewolves came in, and they spoke to Orson briefly but didn’t join him at his table.

“He’s really kind of a loner, huh?” I was filling a flat of glassware for the dishwasher and hoped my staring wasn’t too obvious. “Even for being in the pack.”

“Yeah, Orson kind of keeps to himself.” Riley was studying my beer sheet again. “I think he’s just really introverted. Sawyer says he gets really uncomfortable when he has to talk to people for an extended period of time. He’s always been really polite to me though.”

“If only we all could be so lucky,” I muttered, pushing the back door open with a pop of my hip.

“Oh, let me get that!” Riley rushed over to hold the door for me.

“Thanks. Can you tell I’m not used to having help?”

“It’s what I’m here for,” she said cheerily.

Again, impossible to hate such a sweet girl.

At closing time, Orson had just finished nursing his first and only beer. Once he set down the empty glass, he closed his laptop and began putting things away. Moments later, he came up to the bar with his empty glass in hand.

“I’ll get you closed out right here, Orson.” Riley went to the register in front of him, fingers flying over the screen, when her mate came through the door. “Oh hey, babe! One sec.”

“Take your time,” Sawyer drawled. He clapped Orson on the back as he approached, and Orson gave him a curt nod in return.

I didn’t know what propelled my feet forward, or what prompted the words to come out of my mouth, but I came up next to Riley and said, “I’ll close him out. You two lovebirds get going.”

Riley hesitated, even though she clearly wanted nothing more than to be on her mate’s motorcycle, wrapped around his broad body and heading home. “Are you sure? It’ll only take a second.”

“Yeah, I got it.” I gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “You did great today. Thanks for all your help.”

“Thanks, Shiloh! I had fun.” Riley shouldered her purse and gave me a quick hug on her way out. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. It’ll probably be busier, but you’ll have no problems.”

“Can’t wait.”

Sawyer rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Thanks for taking care of my girl, Shiloh.” The gratitude in his expression spoke volumes, way more than his words did. Riley had been through an unimaginable amount of trauma before she and Sawyer could settle into their lives as mates. The whole territory was glad to see her thriving. And I was more than happy to add a sense of normalcy to her life with a job and friendship.

For the second time, I was relieved to feel nothing but a warm glow when Sawyer spoke to me. I truly was over him, thank the moon. And the happiness I felt for him and his mate was genuine.

“Anytime,” I told him. “Besides, she’s kind of my girl now too.”

The werewolf enforcer’s laugh was tinged with a low growl as he tucked his mate against his side, his arm resting over her shoulders. “I’ll fight you for her, witch.”

“No fighting.” Riley slapped a palm to his chest. “Or I’ll have you banned from the bar.”

I cackled. “See? My girl.”

They turned to leave, Sawyer playfully grumbling while Riley continued to tease him. And then it was just me and Orson, who waited with a blank expression on the other side of the register.

“Sorry for the wait.” I pulled up his tab and printed out the receipt in a moment’s work.

“Not a problem,” he muttered, accepting a pen as he pulled out his wallet and stared down at the bill for his one beer.

He seemed to be taking some time with it, thumbing through his wallet and scribbling on the receipt. A lot of work to pay for a single drink, but whatever. I busied myself with taking another flat of glassware to the dishwasher. In the few seconds I spent in the back room, loading the machine, starting another cycle, and then re-emerging behind the bar, Orson had left.

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