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“I like to build things. I’m good with wood,” he mutters.

I intentionally pass up the perfect opening for a classic joke. “Do it.” Deep down, I want my new friend to be happy. He has too many shadows in his eyes.

“Maybe,” he repeats, turning back to stare into the woods.

We sit in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. One thing I have realized with Logan is that he needs it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live as he was forced to for so long. If it would have been me, I would have gone completely crazy.

“Do you want to shift and chase each other through the woods?” I suggest.

“No.”

“Do you want to shift and beat the shit out of each other in the woods?”

“No.” His lips curve.

“Do you want to go to the bar and pick a fight with a human?”

“Maybe,” he concedes.

“Cool. Let me change.” I stand.

“Why?” Logan frowns.

“Logan, these are my good jeans.” I motion down my body. “I don’t want to get blood on them.”

“Fuck, you're crazy,” he sighs.

“Well, yeah.” I down my beer as I go inside.

The cabin was a shithole when I moved in. I cleaned it and added another room. It’s still a shithole, but it's mine.

I left behind a ranch that buts up to Laken’s house that he left behind to come to Oregon. I was there for two years before he moved in. I had a good thing going. I had a few ranch hands working for me, a good business buying, selling, and training horses. It took some patience to get them to trust me, but they must have sensed my need to help them. I have been a wild animal most of my life—they could relate to me.

Real animals just instinctively know the bad from the good. They desire to be loved just as most of us do. Not me, but most people.

I left my ranch to help Laken. I gave up my business to stay here. He doesn’t need me anymore, but deep inside, I had a burning need to set up my new home in the middle of all these creatures like me. It’s as if this is what was meant to be.

Corny, I know.

But without Laken living beside me, my place didn’t seem like where I needed to be. Laken would be the first to tell you I walked onto his land and wouldn’t leave him alone. I knew he needed me to be persistent in our new friendship—he would call it annoying. But I know the truth. He was thankful I decided to be his friend.

I shove my cream cowboy hat on my head, replacing the black one. It is my least favorite out of all the ones I have, so I won’t be sad if it gets blood on it. I shrug my plaid shirt over my shoulders, button it, and ensure I have several toothpicks in my pocket.

I pull my oldest boots on my feet and join Logan on the porch.

“Let’s go through the rules,” I tell him, shutting the door.

“Rules?” Logan questions, walking with me to my truck.

“Laken and Bishop told me the rules I have to follow if I am going to live here and not piss people off. Which, what’s the funin that?” I jump in the driver’s seat. “Number one, and this one is the most important—they stressed that endlessly. Don’t kill any humans that don’t deserve it. Ever. If you are going to fight them, pull your punches; they are delicate.” I put my arm on the seat and look behind me as I reverse. “Number two, don’t hug anyone. I like to hug. This rule upsets me. I’m a friendly guy. But apparently, humans are suspicious of that.” I speed down the road. “Number three, don’t reveal that we are shifters. Even though several shifters live here, there are still more humans. Showing yourself is a big no, no. Plus, getting naked in a bar to shift would raise some eyebrows,” I scoff. “People are so judgmental.”

“Sounds like the basic rules of being a shifter,” he mutters, but I ignore him.

“Last but not least, never leave a man behind. If we get in a fight, we end it together. We don’t go running away like a little asshole. You are a lion. I am a cheetah. We are the kings of the jungle; we stay and finish it.”

“I don’t think we are the kings of anything,” Logan muses.

“Let me have it.”