Willow
“I can’t believe he’s keeping him around.”
She carefully remained hunched over her desk, pen scribbling across her notebook. To all outward appearances she was focused on her work, effectively invisible to the chauvinist assholes that her father seemed to prefer.
He’s not like that himself, so why does he insist on keeping these loathsome, antiquated, and reviled pigs around?
Long ago Willow had taught herself to stop asking question. It was just easier for her sanity that way. There was a lot she’d learned about werewolves growing up around them. But there was just as much that was coded into their DNA that she just couldn’t understand. Like their constant need to fight each other to prove who was stronger. Because that was something that could change in three days’ time. Idiots.
But from what she could hear two of the more senior members of her father’s pack discussing, it sounded like Aiden had actually made enough of an impression to spare his life. Neither Orren, the pack number three, nor Langdon, his immediate junior, sounded happy about it, but she knew that neither of them would question her father once he’d made a decision.
They had come out from the back and were headed toward the lunchroom, talking in hushed whispers she was sure they didn’t intend her to hear. But as a consequence of growing up around werewolves, her hearing was more acute than many would suspect. After all, when they spent years trying to talk quietly so that she wouldn’t hear, Willow had been forced to grow very adept at understanding even the faintest murmurs.
Eventually the pair moved out of her hearing range, but she’d heard enough to allow a quick smile, before clamping down on her emotions. Willow wasn’t entirely sure why she was so happy that this newcomer had survived, but the elation wasn’t fake. She was genuinely happy.
Odd.
The chime went off to indicate the front door had opened. Sparked from her daydream by the harsh sound, Willow glanced at the clock. It was almost noon.
“Hey Rachelle!” she said, getting up and going to greet the mail carrier. “Anything besides junk mail today?”
“Nothing fun, but I think there might be an envelope or two in there.”
The pair giggled as Willow grabbed the thick stack of mail that was always there. Her father refused to get with the times and do things such as electronic billing. Which meant she was forced to deal with piles upon piles of paper ones. Life was just fantastic sometimes.
“See you tomorrow,” Rachelle said as she departed with a wave.
“I hope not!” Willow called back in their familiar routine. The door chimed again while she went back to her desk.
“Bill, bill, bill, junk mail, bill. Credit card offer. Bill.”
The offer went straight into the shredder before her father saw it. He also didn’t grasp the concept of credit cards, and thought of them as free money. Her father, for being so smart, was rather naïve when it came to money.
“Huh.” Willow stopped sorting mail. There was an envelope, hand-written and addressed to her father. That was odd. He almost never got personalized mail at work. It all went to the pack house. He refused to conduct pack business while at work, and vice versa. He was very strict about his employees enjoying personal time and not having to worry about their jobs while off the clock, and he lived by that formula as well.
There was no return address. The inside didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cash, which had happened a time or two. She could feel the card, but there didn’t seem to be a whole lot else. Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe a check? It wasn’t his birthday or any other occasion, and to her knowledge, he didn’t have anybody who would send him such things in the first place.
Willow could just leave it in his mail slot and let him grab it the next time he came through reception. Or, she thought, getting up from her chair, I could go take it to him. A walk through the back was just what was called for she decided. And if I happen to catch a look at the new guy, who can blame me for being curious, right?
Decision made, she snatched up the letter and started walking into the back. The big doors opened under her push. They were heavy to keep the sound out, but her father insisted on ensuring everything was well oiled and maintained, so they swung open easily. The sound of the working floor washed over her, but after having been there for so many years, she was used to it.
Her father’s office was off to the right, giving him a full view of the sorting and storage area. Her heels clicked off the floor, announcing her presence before she could knock on the open door.
“Willow? What brings you back here?” He set his pen down and gave her his attention.
“You got a letter in the mail today. It doesn’t have a return address and it’s handwritten.” She tossed him a wink. “Too skinny to be a bribe unless it’s a check, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Stephen smiled at her as she held out the baby-blue envelope to him. “It’s not my birthday, is it?”
“The only person who gets you a card for that is me, Father, and I send it to the house, remember?”
“Of course.”
She shook her head. He didn’t remember. His mind was all work and nothing else. “No, it’s not your birthday or any other special occasion that I’m aware of. Which is why I figured I would bring it to you instead of just leave it for you to grab.”
While she was talking, Willow had turned so she could lean against the inside of the door frame. Arms crossed, trying to affect an air of disinterest, she surveyed the floor. The new guy, Aiden, stood out like a sore thumb. Not because he was doing something wrong, though she could tell from his movements he wasn’t entirely sure of everything he was doing. No, it was the way he simply captured her attention without doing a single thing. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t even noticed her yet, but somehow she was drawn to him like a magnet.
His face turned in her direction and she saw his lips quirk. He had seen her! Not only that, he’d noticed she was staring at him. And if he could notice, so could others. Willow quickly focused her attention back on her father.
“So, who is it?” she asked as he pulled out the folded paper from within.
But before her father could reply she found her eyes pulling her head around to look for Aiden once more. Damn, what was it with that man that made her unable to look away while he was around? She saw him lift a box, and after setting it down atop a conveyor, hold his side briefly. An injury from that morning, perhaps? Or had he just hurt himself then and there? Did he need help? First aid? Before Willow realized it she was ready to go over to him and see what she could do to help.
“It’s from the drivers’ union.”
She looked back at her father, who was frowning at the paper.
“What do they want? And why a hand-signed hard?”
“I guess they’re appreciative of the boost in business we’ve been giving them the past six months,” he said carefully, folding the paper up and stuffing it back into the envelope.
Willow frowned, but didn’t say anything. As the main receptionist and administrator she knew all of the goings-on, and she’d noticed the uptick in shipments for the past half year. It wasn’t a growth spurt she’d been expecting based on their normal annual growth, but nobody was complaining about it on either side. Sometimes these things just happened.
“Well, that’s nice of them. You should write back and ask them to send Joe more often. I like him.”
Her father laughed and tucked the envelope into a drawer. “You just missed him actually.”
“What? Why did nobody tell me!” she complained, stomping her foot like a petulant child.
Joe was her favorite werebear driver. He was one of the senior drivers for Gear-Shift Cartage, the company that they outsourced the actual deliveries to, and just a general all-around great person. He was a redneck shifter, which sounded like it should have been at odds with itself, but in reality it wasn’t. Willow just loved it when he came by.
“He was here and gone. His truck was unloaded and he pulled out.”
Willow knew her father wasn’t nearly as fond of Joe as she was. Although all of the drivers were shifters, many of them were werebears and other types who preferred a solitary living, for whatever reason, he’d never come around on Joe. Which was a shame.
“So rude,” she said lightly. “I’m going to have to give him grief about that when he comes back.”
“Indeed.”
“So, you kept him?” she asked, pointing to where Aiden was moving up to a loading dock with a pallet jack as one of the others guided another truck in. “I hadn’t expected to see him around again.”
It was a struggle to keep her voice from betraying her interest in him, especially from her father, who probably knew her vocal mannerisms better than anyone else. The distant, annoyed expression that replaced the neutral look on his face made it fairly clear she’d succeeded. If he was irritated, his mind would be elsewhere, and not on what she was saying.
“Yeah. He bested Patrice and Deckard in quick order. Rokk beat him of course, but he’s got some potential. If he hates Mack as much as I do, then maybe I can bring him around. I could do with an extra hand here.”
“That’s very generous of you, Father,” she said, mildly surprised at his calm dissection of the situation.
“Oh, if he messes up or tries anything stupid it’ll be the final straw. Fuck Mack for thinking he can saddle me with his problem children, that uppity bastard.”
Willow just smiled, looking out at the work floor. Aiden had just emerged from the back of the truck, and as he wheeled the pallet around she saw him glancing up in her direction. Trying not to blush, she smiled back at him briefly.
“Now now, Father. We all know your dislike for Mack. No need to go on a rant about it.”
Her tone was gentle and chiding, but she was deadly serious. His hysterics about the regional Alpha had gotten worse and worse over the past few years, and lately they’d become tirades to the point that she feared being in the same room as him if he went off. It wasn’t good.
Not that he would ever challenge Mack either. Stephen didn’t want the position and responsibilities Mack had. Yes, it was a status increase, but she knew the workload the other Alpha shouldered, and it was immense. Her father would crack under the pressure, she was certain of it. Willow didn’t want to see that, and so she did her best to try and keep him calm when discussing Mack.
It seemed to work this time, but she knew that was far from an everyday victory on her part.
Flint went by, wheeling a pallet of white boxes out of sight into a side room. Willow had seen those sorts of things before, but she’d never asked what they were. To see Flint handling them was odd, considering the fact that as the pack Second he was usually in charge of supervising everything, leaving the manual labor up to others. She wondered what it was all about, but couldn’t be bothered to ask. Her father knew how to handle stuff back here, and she could deal with paperwork. They made a good team.
On the floor two of the shifters, neither of them Aiden, suddenly snarled and sprang at each other, a brown box tumbling to the ground forgotten. Willow winced as something broke inside of it. The sound of clothing ripping was unmistakable. Neither were the barks and yips that followed.
“For fuck’s sake.” Her father stood up and rushed for the door. “Not again, dammit.”
Willow just sighed. She was going to have to order some more overalls after this. They could never keep enough of them in stock.