Page 40 of Cold Moon

I pulled a ten out of my wallet, dropped it on the table next to my half-eaten breakfast, and left.

Linden didn’t say a word about my clear distraction when I got to the clinic, or how I had to smell like anger and who knew what else, just smiled at me and got to work for the day.

When Skip showed up at noon and wordlessly handed me a bag with my usual salad in it before slipping out as quietly as he’d come, the alpha raised a brow, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Finally, I broke. “So where’s Dante?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Not Skip?”

“Gross, no.”

“He’s still at the farm. They’re trying to set him up with some lab space, but we don’t really have anything like that lying around, so we’re making do.” He pulled up the extra chair and dropped his own lunch on the desk across from me, sitting down and leaning back. “Three people asked me this morning, between Grove House and here, if it’s true that ‘that Reid boy’ was trying to stop the pack war, and not fighting us.”

That was impressive, since the clinic and Grove House were literally right next to each other. Still, I shrugged. “He was.”

“He was,” Linden agreed as he pulled a sandwich out of his reusable silicone container, setting both halves on top of it. “So I told them as much. At least one of them seemed a little put out about it, but they didn’t question whether it was true or not.”

“Good. Maybe they’ll stop harassing him.” I continued to glare at my food. It really was a good salad, though, so I couldn’t be too mad at it.

“Maybe so.” We ate in silence for a few minutes until Linden added, “I suspect he’ll be more excited about the other thing you’re planning, though. He’ll probably be over at the farm until after dinner, if you want me to drive you over.”

And darn him, I did. I sighed and nodded. “If you don’t need me this afternoon.”

“I think I can manage one afternoon on my own.”

And that was how, half an hour later, salad rolling around in my stomach, I found myself getting out of Linden’s SUV just outside the Hill farm. I took a deep breath, and behind me, Linden said, “It’ll be fine, Skye. It’s a formality. You already know the answer.”

Well, I hoped I did. What if he’d changed his mind? What if the dramatic omega was just too much work?

Nope. Not focusing on that.

Instead, I nodded, and marched up the porch stairs to knock on the door. Barbara Hill answered with a great big smile, never quite as serious about her competition with my mother as Mom was. “Hello, Skye. How are you this afternoon?”

“Fine, ma’am. I um. I was wondering if Dante is here?”

“He sure is. He’s set up out in the barn.” She started to point, then paused, frowning. “Let me bring him to you.”

“Oh I don’t want to interrupt him—”

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart,” she chided, opening the door wide. “I’ll get you some tea, and then he can come in and talk to you. It’s high time he took a break anyway, and I’m sure he doesn’t want you out there with”—a dozen horrific images went through my head about what he might be doing. Kissing someone else? Going feral? Fighting with someone? Dismembering bodies?—“the Sterling cabbages.”

Cabbages. Naturally.

Still, I didn’t want to be anywhere near possibly poisoned vegetables, so I let her lead me to the kitchen, pour me a glass of tea, and go out to get Dante. It was sweet tea, which my own mother had raised me to despise, so I cringed a little at the taste, but I sure wasn’t going to tell her that. It wasn’t that bad. It was just... a lot.

She wouldn’t be using Sterling food, would she? Not knowing what everybody thought was going on.

I didn’t have much time to think about it, because it only took her a few minutes to come back, leading a confused Dante. He saw me sitting in the kitchen and froze. He didn’t curl into himself like he did sometimes, so I decided that was a good sign. Even nervous, even after I’d been kind of a jerk, he wasn’t scared of me.

My courage wasn’t going to hold out, though, so I hopped up as they approached, wiping my palms on the sides of my jeans and taking a deep breath. “Hey, Dante.”

“Hey, Skye. How are you?”

“Terrible,” I admitted.

Barbara Hill’s concerned eyes flicked over me, likely searching for symptoms of the Condition, but Dante’s gaze didn’t stray from mine for a second. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

I almost grinned in triumph. It was perfect. “Yes. There definitely is. You can pretend that the other day never happened. I mean, except for the flowers. Those were pretty great.”

---