No Way (Claws Clause 1.75)

He only hoped Mad had better luck. To his frustration, Colt hadn’t been able to pick it up since the first time he had all those weeks ago.

Stumbling on Evangeline was an accident, too. With Grayson being the nearest big city to his Bumptown, he would sometimes take the ride out and drop off a couple of fliers advertising his business. To drum up some commissions… that was really one of the only reasons why he’d ever willingly go out among the Ants.

It was his personal biz, too. Colt’s day job was as an architect for his father’s construction company. His duty was to the pack. His passion, though? That was building furniture by hand and selling it for a shit ton of money.

Grayson was a mixed town: both humans and Paras lived there. When it came to charging exorbitant prices to anyone interested in his work, he had no problem upping the price for anyone who wasn’t Pack.

His furniture pieces were certainly worth it. Colt would spend weeks at a time on an individual piece, building it, carving it, staining it to a client’s specifications. He’d work late into the night in his shed out back, earning every dime with his anal-retentive attention to detail, plus his unparalleled craftsmanship.

Apart from fattening his bank account, it also helped him focus. His dedication to his “hobby” was a way for him to work through some of his wolf’s more violent urges. Colt had a temper. He wouldn’t deny that. When he was a pup, he spent more time in his fur than out of it; as an adult, he channeled his beast’s rage, teaching himself control as he hammered away in his work shed.

Which was where he wished he was right now…

If there was a downside to working so hard on a piece, it was that

eventually he finished it and then, gulp, the client actually wanted to own it.

So he had to let them have it.

Right now, it was early. June could could be brutal and, as an arctic wolf shifter, Colt didn’t want to be out longer than he had to. So he was currently in his delivery van—and not because he planned on offering his truck up to Mad when the Cage guards finally sprung him from his cell. Before he got roped into helping his brother acclimate to life on the outside again, Colt decided to risk taking a few hours for himself to make a very important delivery.

That just so happened to be in Grayson.

In between attending hearings, consulting the pack’s lawyers, and working his tail off to track down Evangeline again to save his brother some trouble, Colt had a secret of his own. And today, delivering the dresser he’d poured his heart and soul into creating these last few weeks, was the moment of truth.

Today, he discovered if there was a reason he had felt compelled to do just that.

2

There was a spot in front of the shop in downtown Grayson, almost as if she was waiting for him. Which was probably the case, since he’d promised to have the dresser delivered that morning.

Just a routine delivery, Colt told himself as he slid into the spot and killed the engine. That’s all. A routine delivery, he repeated, throwing open the van’s back doors and grabbing the dolly stowed inside effortlessly with one hand.

Grayson might bill itself as a mixed town. Tolerance and acceptance and all that kumbaya crap.

Yeah, right.

Colt had spent enough time roaming the streets to know by now that not only did the population lean heavily toward humans, but most of them were pretty anti-Para. No point taking chances.

He snagged the dolly because he didn’t need some trumped-up Ant giving him shit for being a shifter. After carefully easing the dresser onto the dolly, he used it to ferry the piece of furniture toward the shop’s back entrance instead of just using his brute strength to carry it himself like he normally would.

As soon as he reached the shipment door, Colt was about to knock and announce his presence when a soft female voice reached his sensitive hearing.

It was his client, and she was talking to someone. A customer? Couldn’t be, he decided, after a couple of exchanges made him realize she wasn’t just talking—she was arguing. Not angrily, more resigned, and since he couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, he assumed she was on the phone.

He had just lifted his fist again when her voice raised enough to steal the rest of his attention.

“Hudson, you were supposed to help me move the dresser across the store. The delivery guy’s here—” A pause. “How do I know? I saw the van pull up. Where are you?” She paused again, obviously listening to this Hudson guy on the other end, then let out a soft sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve— right. Later on. Okay. Bye.”

Colt waited until he thought he picked up on a small, nearly indiscernible, definitely defeated sigh before he propped the dolly and the dresser on the ground, gritted his teeth, and pounded on the shipment door.

A surprised squeak, followed by footsteps dashing across the floor.

“Hang on! I’ll be right there!”

This was the moment of truth.

Over the last month, between helping Maddox with his appeal and his determined search for his brother’s mate, Colt had wondered if his strange attraction to the faceless proprietor of this shop was anything more than a weird quirk of his instincts.