Page 8 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

A little after eight in the morning, with the sun shining down on the frost-covered grass, Jackson pulled his truck up to his home and cut the engine. The scent of something sweet with a hint of spice drifted through the air. He stepped out of the truck, wiping grime from his face. His body ached from hours in the mine, but his mind was sharp.

The scent lingered. Emily.

Frowning, he strode to the front door and pushed it open. His home was a handcrafted log cabin, large and solid, built to house generations of Alphas. The entryway opened into a spacious living area with vaulted ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the forest beyond. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, and thick leather furniture sat atop a deep-brown rug. The crackle of the fireplace mixed with the soft hum of morning.

A delicious smell tickled his nose, pulling him down the long hallway toward the open kitchen. Stainless steel appliances gleamed on granite countertops, and rustic oak cabinets added warmth to the space. Emily stood at the stove, pulling a casserole from the oven.

Jackson blinked. He had imagined seeing her first thing in the morning more times than he cared to admit, though none of those fantasies had involved her wearing clothes. Today, she wore pressed black slacks, another pair of damn impressive boots, and a light-blue sweater that hugged her curves.

He just stared for a moment. “How did you get to my house?”

She blew out air. “Seriously. The second I stepped out of my room, I had ten escorts, male and female, all ages, who wanted to show me the town. I asked an elderly pack member named Atticus for a ride.”

Jackson blanched. “Atticus had his license suspended. The guy can’t see worth crap. No more rides from him.”

“Oh.” She slowly nodded. “That explains why everyone else protested.” One of her slim shoulders rose. “Also why he hit your hydrangea bush right outside.”

Jackson had liked that bush. “I’m glad you made it safely.”

“Apparently, you were out all night.” Her gaze flicked down his frame. “You’re filthy.”

Jackson glanced at himself. Even though he had changed his shirt after leaving the mine, dust and grit still coated his jeans. “I was working.”

“Mining all night?” She took a step back. The movement only highlighted the contrast between her fresh, polished appearance and his rough, worn state.

Damn, she looked good. Too good.

“I like to take a shift now and then,” he said, voice low. Make that every damn night, but she didn’t need to know that. “Enjoy my time in a stope smashing for granite.” The fact that she’d actually set up meetings for him with other females showed that she actually didn’t want to become the Alpha female of his pack. Even if they formed an alliance, her loyalty would always be to her pack, and she obviously saw her father’s mortality. Jackson understood that. Respected it. But it meant she didn’t need to know his secrets.

“Oh.” A glimmer of approval crossed her eyes. “Well, take a quick shower. I made breakfast.”

Jackson stood rooted to the spot, blinking once, slowly. “You thought I was out partying with other women, and you still made breakfast?”

Emily’s lips quirked, but her gaze did not waver. “Yeah. I like breakfast.” The air between them thickened, tension humming beneath the surface. Her pulse fluttered in her throat, and Jackson’s wolf stirred, wanting to close the space between them. The smell of warm food mixed with her natural scent, making it hard to focus. He swallowed the urge to step forward and see how soft that sweater would feel in his hands. “Go shower.”

Adorable. She was way too cute. “I’ll, ah, go shower.” Jackson forced himself to step back, his pulse thudding as he turned toward the hallway. The space between them might as well have been a thread pulled taut. Fragile and ready to snap.

Upstairs, he headed straight to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The hot water hit his shoulders, easing some of the tension but doing nothing to cool the thoughts that had rooted themselves in his mind: Emily, standing in his kitchen like she belonged there. He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling as the water sluiced over him.

He hurriedly finished, wanting that delicious breakfast.

And the woman cooking it. Damn it.

Clean and dressed in worn jeans and a dark T-shirt, he stepped into the bedroom and caught his reflection in the mirror. Broad shoulders, lean muscles, a few scars. His hands were callused from years of labor. Not the kind of male Emily was used to. Her father practically lived in three-piece suits, and her home was a mansion. She probably preferred someone who wore Armani and carried a briefcase.

He wouldn’t know Armani if it bit him on his ass.

He headed back downstairs, finding Emily already seated at the round log table by the wide window. The soft morning light streamed in, catching on the wood’s natural knots and grains. His gaze snagged on the placemats, simple but neat. “Huh,” he said. “Where did you find those?”

“In the drawer below the pots and pans. You must not use them often.”

He gave a short nod. “I don’t cook much.”

“Yeah, I could tell from all the pre-made meals in your fridge and freezer.” Her smile was faint but knowing. “The females in your pack must keep you stocked.”

He chuckled. “Many do take pity on me. But to be honest, Gus from the diner takes care of most of it these days. He retired, but he still drops by with meals now and then. I try to go fishing with him when I can, though I’ve been meaning to take him ice fishing once the rivers freeze over.”

“Sounds like he means a lot to you.”

“Yeah, he does,” Jackson admitted. The thought of Gus brought a tug of warmth to his chest, though it faded as his eyes drifted over the cabin’s sparse decor.

“This place definitely needs a female’s touch,” Emily said, her tone light but her gaze lingering.

Jackson glanced around at the bare walls and unadorned shelves. “Yeah, I guess. I think there are pictures somewhere. Probably in a box up in the attic.”

Emily tilted her head slightly, waiting.

“I packed everything away after my father died,” he added. The words came out rougher than he intended. “Cleared the whole house when I took over as Alpha. Didn’t think much about decorating after that.”

Silence settled between them, heavy and tinged with tension. She didn’t press him. Instead, she unfolded her linen napkin onto her lap, and Jackson did the same. The brush of fabric against his fingers felt strangely intimate. He had linen napkins? Who knew?

“So.” She broke the quiet. “Who do you suspect for these mining attacks?”

He shook his head, frustration tightening his shoulders. “I really don’t know. Did you call and tell your father about my troubles last night?”

Hurt slid in and then out of her expression. “No. Figured it was your secret.”

There was that sweet side of hers. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.” Jackson took a bite of the egg casserole, the warm, savory flavors hitting his tongue. It had been a long time since someone had cooked for him in this house. Too long.

Across the table, Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the curve of her neck drawing his gaze before he forced himself to focus on his plate. While he didn’t want to take advantage of her, the safest course of action for her was to mate him. Yet that left her father and pack in a bind. She mattered more, as far as he was concerned.

The food was delicious. Before speaking, Jackson took several more bites, savoring the warmth of the dish. “This is amazing,” he mumbled.

Emily laughed, the sound light but warm. “I like to bake and cook. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it is.” He spooned another helping from the casserole dish.

“I’m glad you like it.” She took a small bite, her movements neat and precise. Reaching over, she poured coffee from a carafe decorated with little tulips.

Jackson blinked. “Where the hell did you find a carafe?”

“In one of the upper cabinets.”

Where the heck did that come from? “I didn’t know you had a domestic side.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up. Now tell me about the Blounts and why Warren wants you gone.”

Ah. On to safe subjects. Fine by him. He leaned back in his chair, the tension coiling low in his torso. “Twenty years ago, when I was fifteen and stepping up, Warren wanted the job. The council outvoted him. He was already too old, and his grandsons were too young. He’s hated my guts since. Really didn’t like when I started modernizing things.”

“You mean letting pack members leave to live in the human world for a while?”

“Yeah.” Jackson took a sip of coffee. A hint of cinnamon hit his tongue. It was rich and smooth, better than anything he’d had in months. “The old ways weren’t working. As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to go out and explore the world.”

“But you didn’t get to,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “Nope. Started training harder than ever. Worked every aspect of the mines. Figured if I was going to own all three, I should know everything about them.”

She sat back, studying him with something unreadable in her eyes. “That was smart. Especially at fifteen.”

“There wasn’t much else to do,” he admitted. “The council handled disputes, protection, all of that. I learned as I went.”

She sipped her coffee. “Do they still run things?”

“No,” Jackson said shortly. “They want to, but I took over years ago. They were against modernization, too.”

“So, you won that one.”

He set the coffee mug down, the sound loud in the quiet space. “I did. But I have a bad feeling the council might try to align with Blount and then drag in other pack members.” Not that he couldn’t take them all out. But that would make him a shitty leader, wouldn’t it?

The air between them shifted. Jackson’s pulse kicked, the warmth of her presence making it harder to focus on pack politics. He wouldn’t force her to stay—probably. But he’d love to explore this attraction between them.

“They wouldn’t go so far as to sabotage your mines, would they?” Emily asked.

Jackson slowed down now that his belly was warm and content. “I can’t imagine they’d want to hurt anyone in the pack. We need every available body working the mines or on protection detail.” It was as much as he was willing to admit to her.

“How many members are in your pack?” she asked.

“Plenty,” he answered smoothly, taking another drink of coffee. “I appreciate you cooking me breakfast.”

She glanced at her phone. “Anytime. Hey, we’ve got about half an hour before you meet your first possible mate.” She sounded way too delighted about putting him in this position. Brat.

“You know, you could still have the job,” Jackson said, meaning every word. He would love to come home to her every morning. Sure, he didn’t believe in love, but lust? He had that in abundance for her.

“Thanks, but I can’t desert my father. If I leave, Vic will challenge him. With me in place, our pack will continue to support my dad. For as long as they can.”

Perhaps she’d consider a relationship outside of mating. No. He knew, without a doubt, that one taste of her, and he wouldn’t let her go. Then he’d be at war with the Slate Pack. Maybe the other two Stope Packs, as well. “What’s your plan at that point? Actually becoming the Alpha?”

She paled. “Yes.” Was that a lie? It felt like a lie. Interesting. Perhaps Em had no clue what she’d do next.

Their territories were located on opposite sides of the state and couldn’t be combined, so Jackson couldn’t even offer that possibility. “Maybe next lifetime for us, huh?”

“As if we get more than one,” she replied.

“Perhaps.” He swirled the last of his coffee in the mug. “Never really gave it much thought.”

She glanced outside the wide windows to the dark trees. “I visited your study earlier.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Snooping?”

“Oh, most definitely,” she replied, her smile softening something inside him.

Jackson studied her. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why anyone would call her an ice queen. Sure, she was tall with striking, white-blond hair, but there was nothing cold about Emily Nightsom. Heat lived in her gaze, and sharp intelligence behind her teasing smile.

“I saw all the miniature fighter jets and planes you’ve put together,” she added.

His mouth curved slightly. “Did you, now?”

“Mm-hmm. Didn’t take you for the model-building type.”

“Gotta keep my hands busy somehow.”

Her eyes flicked to his hands, where they rested against the coffee mug. Jackson swore the air thickened between them. He cleared his throat and set the mug down with a thunk. Damn woman was going to drive him insane.

He shifted in his chair, not wanting to feel exposed. “Everybody needs a hobby.”

“It’s a good one, Jackson,” Emily said, her voice softening. “Takes precision, and it looks like you had fun.”

He shrugged. “Something to do when I can’t sleep. Started worrying about this pack when I was fifteen and haven’t stopped since.”

She chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that’s the job, isn’t it?”

“And you? Hobbies?” he asked, curious.

“Well, I like to shop,” she admitted, her smile tilting toward playful. “Writing started as a hobby, but once I submitted a couple of books, I started making money from it. I don’t do signings or anything, so I’m a bit of a recluse as an author. It’s kind of fun.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m glad one of your dreams came true.”

Her cheeks colored slightly, though her eyes stayed steady. “Thanks. Enough small talk. You need to go change so you can meet your future mate.”

He glanced down at his jeans and T-shirt. “This is what I wear.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You should dress up a little.”

“Absolutely not.” He stood and stretched. “Whoever mates me needs to know exactly what she’s getting.”

Emily’s gaze flicked over him, and the air between them tightened for a moment. He held her eyes for longer than he should have before taking his dishes to the sink. Was she actually going through with introducing him to other Alpha females?

It was going to be a fucking fascinating day.