her a flirtatious grin. “Hey, I’m Dominic.”
Makenna nodded. “Ah, the enforcer who sends Zac dirty jokes.”
“Actually, I’m a freelance gynecologist. When was your last checkup?”
“Dominic,” chastised Grace.
Makenna’s chuckle cut off as the door again opened and Taryn, Jaime, and Ryan entered. The very second Ryan’s eyes found hers, a tingle of pleasure shot down her spine. The raw need building inside her was live and electric. In spite of herself, she wondered how it would feel to have him in her, over her, taking her. She would bet all his natural intensity translated into hard, rough, demanding sex—the best kind, in her opinion.
“I brought some clothes to donate,” said Hope. “They’re from everyone in the pack. Some of them don’t quite realize yet that they’ve donated, but I’m sure they’ll notice soon.”
Trick’s brow furrowed. “What exactly have I donated?”
“We had some extra food,” Grace told Makenna.
She called those three boxes extra? Like the stuff had just been lying around? “Extra food,” repeated Makenna. “Right.”
Nostrils flaring, Dominic sidled up to Madisyn with a frown. “What are you?”
The feline got that a lot. Most shifters didn’t sense what breed she was. And Madisyn kind of liked it that way. She very rarely revealed the truth, since she found joy in dicking with people. “A woman,” Madisyn replied.
Dominic rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but what type of shifter are you?”
“A cat.”
“What kind of cat shifter?” he pressed, impatient.
“A rare one.”
Lydia did a little clap, overriding Dominic’s growl. “Well, let’s get to work.”
It quickly became clear to Makenna that Lydia was quite artistic and had a flair for interior design. She recruited some of the shelter’s volunteers and residents, even the children, to help with improvements. Paintings were hung up, potted plants were brought in, colorful blackout blinds replaced outdated curtains, and stylish light fixtures were added.
The common room was completely transformed. The old carpet was replaced by laminate flooring and then covered with a beautiful, coffee-colored rug the same shade as the blinds. The upholstery was changed with matching sofas and cushions, and white faux-leather covers were added to the plastic chairs.
The children painted pictures on the walls of the outdoor playground, which was further improved by a playhouse, sandpit, basketball net, and trampoline that the Phoenix wolves had brought with them. Apparently, they were the things the Alpha pair’s son was no longer amused by, but Makenna wasn’t so sure she believed it was old stuff.
Madisyn, too, had her suspicions. Dawn . . . well, Makenna hadn’t seen her that happy in a long time. The woman was thrilled with all the other things the wolves had donated: bedding, clothing, footwear, sleeping bags, hygiene supplies, books, toys, towels, a microwave, a toaster, and a kettle.
The wolves claimed the stuff had been just “lying around.” But as Makenna gazed at something hanging on the common room wall, she said to Ryan, who had rarely left her side, “I refuse to believe you had a wide-screen TV just lying around.”
“You’d be surprised. We have a lot of guest rooms, but they’re rarely used.”
“Guest rooms?” She would have thought he’d say “guest cabins.” “Does that mean you guys all live in one big pack house?” Picking up some of the garbage bags at her feet, she headed toward the side exit; Ryan did the same.
“In a sense,” he replied as they stepped outside into the side alley. Like Makenna, he slung the garbage bags into the trash. “Who is Colton to you?” Ryan blurted out, unintentionally abrupt. He inwardly winced. By nature, he was curt and straight to the point. Which meant he often came across as rude and intolerant.
“He’s a volunteer and a friend.” She was panting with exertion after all the hours of hard work, but Ryan hadn’t even broken a sweat. She’d resent him for it if it hadn’t been so pleasurable watching all those muscles bunch and flex.
“Friend? He walks into your personal space like it’s his right.”
“So do you.”
Yeah, well, they weren’t talking about him. “Are you two dating?”
“Why? Are you interested in him? Because I don’t think he swings that way.” She grimaced as a crow landed nearby. “Well, that’s not good.”
Blinking at the sudden change of subject, Ryan glanced at the bird. “What?”
“Seeing one crow on its own is bad luck.” She didn’t add obviously, but it was in her tone.
Ryan looked from her to the bird, feeling compelled to point out, “It’s just a crow.”
“Come on, you’ve heard the rhyme. ‘One for sorrow, two for mirth, etc. .