Chapter Nine
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That weekend, Ben walked into his office in the octagonal tower. His feet dragged as if his father—Arnold—had sent him to cut a switch to be punished. Damned if he wouldn’t rather be whipped than have to fill out invoices.
Ignoring the piles of paperwork, he stood in the center of the octagonal room and took in the view. The tall windows on the four front-facing sides looked out toward the white-topped western mountains. The descending sun had silhouetted the peaks in gold.
By the God, what he’d give to be roaming the forest now. The cool evening wind would sweep off the glaciers and carry a brisk hint of snow. Birds would be chirping sleepily, and pixies would retire to their hollows…before the owls came out to hunt. Before bedding down for the night, deer and elk would visit their favorite watering holes.
Ben agreed. An hour sipping an icy brew and shooting the bull with friends at the tavern made the day’s labors worthwhile.
Eventide was a special time.
Unfortunately, rather than a wilderness run or a trip to the tavern, he’d be doing paperwork. Fuck.
He heard the thud of Ryder’s boots in the great room and heading closer. The thumps stopped, and from the doorway, his brother regarded the room silently.
Paperwork buried the heavy walnut desk, drafting table, and bookshelves. Piles of bills were mixed with invoices, forms, requisitions, and payroll statements. “There’s a mess.”
“You got a talent for stating the obvious,” Ben countered sourly. He leafed through the papers on the desk, hoping to find the school addition specs.
“You used to have a talent for staying on top of things.”
Yeah, well, back then, Ryder’d been around to help out.
But blaming his brother for the mess wasn’t…completely…fair. “The business doubled over the past couple of years. You know those customizations I’d started putting into shifters’ houses?”
Ryder nodded.
“Got real popular. The local shifters alone keep me swamped with jobs.” Ben found a bill he’d forgotten to send out and set it on another pile. “The number of hellhounds has increased in the territory, which means more patrolling for cahirs. In addition, out-of-territory cahirs are coming here to learn from Shay and Zeb how to kill hellhounds. I help with the training.”
“And now the Cosantir’s dumped an injured female in your house.”
“Yep. I don’t have enough hours in the day. Paperwork is low priority.”
“Got it.” Ryder leaned against the doorframe. “Want help?”
“From you?” The memory of long-held pain edged Ben’s voice. “Seriously? Haven’t we wandered this trail before?” The rancor in his kneejerk response was a surprise.
Ryder stiffened as if he’d been knifed, then his expression changed to resignation. And guilt.
Ben opened and closed his hands as if the gesture would release the bitterness accrued over the years. Dammit, he’d missed his brother. What was he doing?
It’d been bad when they were separated at five. Reuniting at twenty, they’d traveled the country, brawling, mating the females, and learning about each other.
In Siskiyou Territory, Ben turned contractor and started a construction business. Building and remodeling houses fulfilled his dreams.
Ryder preferred smaller projects—the woodworking inside a home, building furniture, fireplace mantels, railings. He’d apprenticed with a master craftsman—and added on accounting classes for fun. By the God, fun?
But they’d both been happy…or so Ben had thought.
However, the discovery he’d killed his mother in childbirth knocked him sideways. And then Ryder’d abandoned everything and left with Genevieve. Hurting and alone, Ben’d torn up roots and wandered north to start over in Cold Creek.
He’d been more resentful than he’d realized.
Ben shook his head. By Herne’s hide and hooves, he was an idiot, clinging to old pain like a child. “Sorry, bro.” He scratched his shoulders on the rough doormat he’d nailed to one wall. “I’ll take you up on your offer. Thank you.”
Ryder closed his eyes for a second, pulling in a breath. His cave-deep voice emerged uneven. “I’m sorry, too. When you said you wouldn’t lifemate, I couldn’t see how a male could live without a female. But leaving—I hurt you in a way I never intended.”
Yeah, he had. But the lines on Ryder’s face exposed an equal amount of pain. And Ben’s decision about never lifemating affected them both. Should have been discussed. “We both fucked up.”
A corner of Ryder’s mouth tipped up. “I missed working with you.”
“Me, too.” Ben asked the question they’d been dancing around. “Is this temporary or are you going to stay?”
Ryder met his eyes. “I want to stay. I want Minette to have a family.”
Well. Family was a good word. A fine word. “I want that, too.” He paused. “And Genevieve?”
Ryder hesitated. “She obviously didn’t care for the cub. But…she kept Minette. I don’t know why or what she’ll do now.”
Ben wasn’t surprised Genevieve was a crappy mother. Caring for a cub would take time from herself. Hopefully, she’d count Minette’s loss as a win, because he found the thought of losing the cub intolerable. “With the Mother’s grace, she’ll stay away.”
“Aye.” Ryder rubbed his jaw with his knuckles—a typical feline quirk. Did all cats groom themselves when discomfited?
Ben smothered a smile. Felt like old times.
After studying the room, Ryder straightened. “There’s not enough space for both of us in here. Got anywhere else? You also need a hell of a lot bigger filing cabinet.” His gaze lingered on the ancient computer, the very one he’d bought for Ben six years before. He gave a snort of disbelief. “And equipment upgrades.”
“I can see you’re going to be a pain in the tail.” Ben didn’t even try to conceal his grin.