Page 22 of Talk About… Trouble

“Traitor,” I teased. Braxton just hugged the dog and blinked up at me like they were both the picture of innocence. “Maybe trouble would be more fitting.”

“True,” Brax laughed as he released my dog and stood, looking at the poor calf who still hadn’t moved.

To our surprise, Pretzel hopped right in and approached the cow. I tensed, ready to save his ass if I needed to, but instead he just tucked himself right under her big head and closed his eyes for a nap.

“I guess you’re staying for dinner while they get acquainted,” I said, shaking my head as I pulled out my phone and hit the button to close the main gate so she wouldn’t wander off if curiosity won out.

“What are we having?” Braxton grinned. The brat knew damn well if he came around this time I’d feed him.

“You’re helpless in the kitchen, aren’t you?” I shot back, kicking my boots off on the porch of the main house and heading in. This old place belonged to my grandfather once upon a time. He passed away when I was fifteen and it sat in disrepair until I turned eighteen.

My dads told me leading up to that birthday that I’d be on my own the day I became an adult. Lucky for me they’d forced me to grow up far too fast and be as independent as I could. I’d worked as a farmhand on local ranches enough that I claimed my inheritance and carved out a name for myself.

The last time I saw them was nearly six years ago. For two men that had to work hard to have a baby, you’d think that family would be a little more important.

Braxton was just as comfortable in my big, empty farmhouse as I was. Then again, it wasn’t empty with a few dogs and cats wandering in and out of the doggy doors. Thankfully most of them preferred to hang in the barns at night or this place would smell like the inside of a horse stall.

I just couldn’t turn Pretzel and Lancelot away when they wanted to stay here… every single night.

Speaking of, the squeak of wheels announced the other dog’s arrival.

“Hey, Sir Lancelot,” Braxton greeted the chihuahua with a dignified voice. It kind of fit with his tuxedo colors, though the tongue lolling out of his mouth at all times didn’t fit the bill. He was a goofy little guy and was one of my first I couldn’t say no to.

Though, he had his own yard he used that had mesh over the top so the hawks didn’t get him. I had a feeling the wheels would protect him, but it wasn’t a risk worth taking.

“You hungry, buddy?” I asked as I pulled down his bowl and filled it up, giving Pretzel a treat since he already had his dinner in the barn. He wasn’t going to get away with a second one when he was already a few pounds over the vet recommendation.

Though the vet in question was the worst at sneaking them treats.

“I put chili in the crockpot. Let me whip up some cornbread and we can eat,” I said. Braxton grabbed out the shredded cheese he liked, bowls, and spoons while I started mixing.

“Sounds perfect,” Braxton offered. “Any progress on that grant?”

Every time we met it turned into conversations about funding. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the beta’s help, it was just that it felt like I was disappointing him directly every time we weren’t chosen.

Grants for sanctuaries like mine were in short supply, and that meant there wasn’t enough funds to get around to all of us.

We got one five years ago, and nothing since. I didn’t have high hopes and he shouldn’t, either. Not that he’d accept that answer.

“I sent in what they asked for,” I said simply as I poured the cornbread mix into my buttered cast iron and popped it into the oven.

He started to say something but my phone ringing cut through the silence. I gave him a shrug as I plucked it out of my pocket and glanced down, surprised to see my contact from The Omega Network calling me. I’d put in a request with her for a vet tech since they had connections with not just the omegas, but most of the packs around here. It was a last ditch effort after my job listings went largely unanswered.

After the last disastrous interview I wasn’t exactly hopeful. My animals were like family to me and when that bratty beta showed up and curled her lips up and refused straight out to do the basic cleaning and care for the animals, the interview was over.

I paid as well as I could manage, dipping into our meager funds and adding a few extra family days to the calendar to make up for it. I wasn’t going to waste precious money on someone who was going to be on her phone more than actually caring for the animals.

Maybe I was picky. The last helper I had was an alpha with a heart of gold. He loved this place like I did until he found his omega and moved away.

It turns out, finding good caretakers wasn’t an easy task.

“Hello?” I answered, voice guarded.

“Hey, Holt! It’s Hailey. I actually just had an omega move to town with a great resume and plenty of experience. Now, she’s been through a lot so she’s going to be quiet and probably a little timid, but I think that farm of yours might be really good for her.”

“I’m not a therapist,” I said, even more worried than I was before I answered. The last thing we needed was a girl too afraid of her shadow to connect with the animals. Something about her tone had me more than a little worried.

“She doesn’t need you to be one,” Hailey said, voice sharp. “Don’t underestimate her because of her past or I’ll send this perfectly qualified vet tech on to someone else.”

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