Page 3

Lily

“I printed a sample label. Check it please, Lily?”

We were in the main house. Rumor’s house. Her kitchen was six times the size of mine, and we had a lot of new things to make for the market tomorrow.

Wilder set the label on the counter. Rumor and I gathered around it and checked everything. I spelled each word out loud. I didn’t want any misspellings on our products if we could help it. Wilder usually didn’t make a mistake but everyone did.

“It’s good,” I said, sliding the label over to him. “Thank you.”

“Should I print them in bulk, or do you want to test this at market first?”

“Can you just print enough for these batches and then we’ll see how they do?” I asked. Every request still felt like begging but, more and more, I was coming into my own voice. It was okay to ask for help.

“Of course. It smells great, by the way.”

“Thanks.” The pair shared a kiss, and I turned away. It was still a bit weird to be in their space when they had been mated less than a year, but they told me I was welcome. They had saved me from the other pack. They didn’t have to. Plenty of people would’ve left me behind.

Peach cobbler baked in the oven, along with honey cinnamon granola. Once they were cooled, we could put them in the jars with the clamp lids. The cherry cheesecake in a jar and peanut butter brownie mixes would go in regular ones. We had everything planned out.

Rumor and I stood shoulder to shoulder and washed dishes while everything cooled, and it was then that I noticed her scent was different. I turned to her and gasped. I knew the woman next to me almost better than I knew myself. “That didn’t take long,” I said, tsking.

She sighed and tossed the sponge into the sink. “Bernadette is eight months old. Besides, wolf shifters heal faster. And my heat was really powerful this time.”

I snorted and bumped her with my shoulder. “You’ve been planning this conversation.”

“Are you disappointed in me?”

“What?” I reached to turn off the faucet. “This is your life. As long as you are happy, then I’m happy. Your mates didn’t pressure you to have more pups quickly, did they?”

“You know better. They would never push me into anything except resting and eating more.”

I put my hand to her belly. I wouldn’t do that to any female but Rumor. “I’m excited for you. Are you hoping for a son?”

She nodded. “I am. I think everyone else is too.”

“I’ll send a prayer to the goddess. Speaking of pups, I haven’t seen Bernie today at all.”

“Vargas has her. They are gardening. Aka, Bernie is sitting in the dirt, probably pulling out plants faster than he can get them in the ground.”

Each of Rumor’s mates spent time with her and loved on her, hugging and kissing as much as possible. As an infant, she didn’t sleep anywhere but in someone’s arms. They were bonded as any parents should be to their children.

They wanted their family to be the opposite of how they had grown up—doing a good job at it too.

“Should we get the labels on first?” I asked once the dishes were done.

“Yes.”

We talked about the new baby while we prepped the sterilized jars. Some of the labels were crooked, making us laugh, but what was inside was way more important.

We used to make these recipes on demand for Rumor’s previous family. No. They were never a family. They were a pack who bred for status and power. No love was between those heartless people.

Now, we made them for our own income. They tasted better.

“How much for the peach cobbler jars? I haven’t even thought about prices.”

Our prices would be scribbled on a chalkboard the morning of the farmer’s market. But we really did need to decide in advance. I pulled out my cell phone, purchased by Rumor and her mates, and opened the notes app. A phone of my own. Imagine that. It was the little things.

“Let’s make a list so we don’t forget. We can ballpark how much they cost to make and then double that value.”

“Did anyone return the jars last week? I forgot to look.”

I nodded, opening the pantry. We’d cleared out a shelf for the jars we used. “Yes. Once we put up the sign that gave people a discount for returning their jars, most of them came back. That cuts our costs a bit, more than the discount we give them.”

“Gosh.” Rumor sat down. “I never thought our skills would translate to an income. An income that helps my family.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I never thought I’d have my own money or my own bank account. I can’t thank you and your mates enough for saving me.”

Rumor reached across the bar and took my hand. “You were there for me through the worst parts of my life. How could we not?”

I sighed. “Okay. Enough. How much for the peach cobbler? I don’t know about you, but that stuff is worth gold to me, especially with the homegrown peaches.”

“Four bags of gold!” Rumor laughed.

“Did we strike gold, mi amor ?” Vargas came in with a filthy Bernadette on his hip. She was growing like a weed. I swore an inch each day at least. That was a shifter baby—always hungry. Always growing.

“No. But our peach cobbler should have a public trading code.”

“That it should.”

Vargas bundled Bernie off for a bath, calling over his shoulder that he was tempted to bring her back outside and stick her under the sprinklers.

Rumor was blessed. I wished I could find one mate. I didn’t dare wish for three. And one babe. That would be the picture of my dreams.