Page 26 of Pack to the Wall

"Exactly like that secret," Zev said pointedly, his eyes narrowing at the little boy. "Which we're very careful about who we tell, aren't we, Lucas?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Oops," he whispered, glancing nervously at Chrissy.

"It's okay," Chrissy whispered back, crouching to his level. "I already know. And I'm very good at keeping secrets. I won't tell anyone about your wolves, and you won't tell anyone I'm here. Deal?"

Lucas stuck out his tiny hand solemnly. "Deal."

As Chrissy shook on it, she felt Zev's presence like a physical touch against her back. Heat radiated from him, making her acutely aware of how thin her tank top was, and how her cutoffs exposed the length of her tanned legs.

She could feel his gaze appreciatively admiring her body in this very exposed outfit. When she glanced at him, his eyes had darkened with desire to a stormy blue.

Heat rushed up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. For once, the attention didn't feel invasive or objectifying—it felt like a caress, a private conversation between their bodies.

"So, um," she stammered, searching for a distraction before she did something impulsive like press herself against him right in front of these children. "Zev, didn't you mention you havesome professional guitars here at the resort? Maybe we could show these guys?"

The children erupted in squeals and excited chatter.

"Yeah! Can we see them?"

"Do you play too, Alpha Zev?"

"I bet Chrissy is better!"

Zev's expression shifted from smoldering to amused. "This way, then."

He led their small entourage across the resort grounds to the main lodge. Chrissy was intensely aware of how her shorts rode up with each step. She caught Zev's eyes dropping to her backside more than once, his hands flexing at his sides as if physically restraining himself from touching her.

God, she liked that look on him—hungry but controlled.

Inside the main lodge, Zev guided them to a smaller room. Sunlight spilled through panoramic windows, illuminating two beautiful acoustic guitars displayed prominently on stands.

"Whoa," Chrissy breathed, approaching one reverently. "A Martin D-28? These cost more than my first car."

Zev chuckled. "We spare no expense for our guests."

As she admired the high-end instruments, Chrissy's attention caught on an older guitar tucked into the corner. It wasn't flashy or expensive-looking, but something about it called to her. The worn wood had a patina that spoke of years of being played and loved.

"What about that one?" she asked, pointing to it. "Why's it tucked away like that?"

Zev's expression softened. "That was my grandfather's. He taught me to play on it."

"Can I use it?" The request slipped out before she could think better of it. "I mean, to play a few songs for the kids?"

The look he gave her made her stomach flip—something tender and wistful and possessive all wrapped into one intense gaze. Nobody had ever looked at her quite that way before.

"Nobody's touched it since he passed," Zev said quietly. Then with deliberate care, he lifted the guitar and extended it to her. "But I think he'd approve of you being the first."

The weight of trust in that gesture wasn't lost on Chrissy. She accepted the guitar with reverence, brushing her fingers over the worn strings.

"Miss Chrissy." The little girl with pigtails tugged at her cutoffs, "Will you please sing 'Daddy's Girl'? Pretty please?"

Chrissy smiled down at her. "Only if you guys sing with me. Think you can handle that?"

The children nodded eagerly. Chrissy perched on the edge of a nearby armchair, adjusting the old guitar on her lap. It felt different than her custom instruments, but somehow right—solid and honest.

She strummed a few experimental chords, surprised at how well-maintained the guitar was despite its age. The notes rang clear and true.

"Okay, here we go," she said, beginning the familiar opening chords of the song that had changed her life.

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