FORTY-TWO

Jaxson

BILLIE AND I are at a local orchard and pumpkin patch, perusing the selection of food, decorations, and pumpkins for tonight's Sunday dinner and pumpkin carving... on a Saturday. 'Cause we're rebels like that.

A week has passed since Xander's father's funeral, and it's clear he's going to need the three of us more than ever in the coming months—shit, probably years. The amount of business-related material, paperwork, and meetings being pushed onto him, not to mention the pressures from the pack alongside an already full school and soccer schedule—it's far too much for one person to handle, regardless of how capable he may be.

Ethan has been vital in going through, reading, organizing, and simplifying the information concerning the five businesses and three boards Xander is now involved with. Xander's mother, Gran, and Bruce have been gatekeepers for the pack. However, with Councilman Hogan still present and the results of my mother's unborn spawn soon to be revealed, it's clear the pack is an issue that will require his presence if not participation—a subject he's remained tight-lipped on.

Though Billie has little interest in all things business and loathes paperwork, including electronic paperwork, maybe more than dresses, I've noticed how Xander's found ways to seek her counsel. Her mind has a way of looking at things from a different perspective—like she did at the will reading. She is a nerd by her own admission. She likes numbers, the mind, and science, but more importantly, she likes puzzles and games. Her natural curiosity and cunning have been useful in deciphering and uncovering loopholes, possible hidden agendas, finding areas where information should have been provided, and questioning how certain answers were arrived at based on available information. All of this has resulted in us uncovering a lack of documentation or lack of understanding by other board members that otherwise would have been missed.

I've taken over protecting our pack and our pack's family, so to speak. I'm keeping in contact with The Den, who are now sending me pictures and Instagram profiles of women who approach them to ensure none of them are wolves. And let me tell you, a lot, I mean A LOT, of women approach them. Councilmen Swanson and MacNeill have been keeping Alessandro, Ethan, and me informed about the rogue shifters the council is now providing safe housing for a little over fifty miles north from here.

My playmate and I are making sure we're providing a home, a place of comfort, and love for our pack to retreat to. Others may scoff at a beta wanting to cook and care for their pack, for their alpha, believing that we're only to be enforcers, warriors, or sentinels. Those views are ancient and ridiculous unless we are at war. And I don't mean a human war, I mean a pack war, and there hasn't been one in over two generations—I think. I'm not sure, but it's been, like, a long freakin' time. Keeping my pack-mates safe and making sure our alpha is functioning at his best is just as important as fighting in a battle. Plus, screw it, I like it. I like cooking for my pack-mates. I like spending time with my playmate, bringing light and laughter into our home. If we're not living a life full of love and happiness, what are we working for? What are we willing to fight for?

"Go long!" Billie yells from across the field, stirring me from my thoughts. Looking up I see my playmate about twenty yards out in the row of pumpkins we've been sifting through. She's taken a quarterback stance, her boot-cut-jean-clad legs crossing with her lateral steps in my direction while her feet find stability in her hiking boots on the uneven terrain. The bottom of her gray and burgundy flannel flaps in the light autumn breeze. Her eyes peer through her rose-colored sunglasses, looking down the row at me. The huge smile on her face shows the cinnamon gum "mouthguard" she's got plastered over her top teeth as she draws her arm back and launches the pumpkin into the air.

Craning my head back, I watch the orange gourd arch through the soft-blue late-October sky. My eyes alternate from the ground to the gourd, while my feet in heavy construction boots try to hastily scramble backward over the lumpy field to catch my playmate's pumpkin-skinned football. "Holy shit," I puff out, impressed with her arm strength. Not moving fast enough, I leap into the air, my fingertips fumbling to grip the pumpkin, and I manage to tuck it into my chest before unceremoniously landing back on the ground with an oomph and, um, not on my feet. Hey, I'm a wolf-shifter, not a cat-shifter, so landing on all fours is not in my bloodline. Just sayin.' I'm lying on my side on the straw-covered ground, hugging her pumpkin like I'm Omar Epps in The Program , refusing to let anyone else touch it. My pumpkin.

Her giggling laughter reaches me before the sun's rays are blocked out by her shadow. I look up to find my playmate standing above me with her hands on her hips, cackling. "Feck, Jax, I thought you could move faster than that!" Yeah, she's totally laughing at me while I lie here on the ground, cradling her precious freakin' pumpkin.

Exhaling, both amused and annoyed, I toss the pumpkin aside and swiftly take hold of her from behind the knees, yanking her down to me. Billie's arms windmill, and she cries out, "Oh shit!" Neither aid in stopping her descent.

I immediately crawl on top of her and wedge my leg in between hers while grabbing her wrists and pinning her arms out to the side. Her giggles, which are like a melody of tinkling bells made from pure joy, only intensify, and I succumb to their infectious sound. Grinning widely, I mockingly arch a brow and say, "I'll have you know, the footing here requires a little more attention than normal."

She dramatically rolls her eyes and gives me a wry smile. "Oh right, how could I not take into account the footing ."

Nipping her lips, I argue, "I still caught it, didn't I?"

Billie's tongue darts out and sweeps between her lips. She hums her agreement. "That you did, in dramatic fashion no less." Then she lifts her head off the ground and sucks my lower lip into her mouth, drawing me down with her. I drive my thigh between her spread legs, rocking against her seam. She arches her back in response, and her lips open on a moan. I seize the opportunity, tilting my head to the side and diving my tongue into her hot mouth. Sucking up her cinnamon gum, I quickly spit it out to the side of us and return my lips to hers.

Her wrists wriggle in my hold with her desire to move. Liking her at my mercy, I tighten my grip. She snarls a grunt into our kisses and bucks her hips in disapproval. Unfortunately for her, she merely succeeds at rubbing her soft core against my rapidly hardening cock, spurring me to grind harder against her. The Grinch was here last week—that dickwad comes every month. As such, our need for each other is evident; we're openly dry humping in the middle of a very public and very popular pumpkin patch.

"See, Rachael," I hear a shrill voice sneer from nearby, the pitch of it making both Billie and I tense. "She's a slut. That's why Xander's with her."

Anger sparks like the strike of a matchstick inside me, and I pull my head back from my mate. Scowling, I peer to the side where the voice came from, seeing a group of four women from our college watching us from a few rows over. One of them is that touchy-feely girl, Rachael, and I notice that the girl next to her, who has shoulder-length brunette hair tucked under a light purple beret, is holding her phone up in our direction, most likely recording us. This type of shit—people taking pictures of us, posting them, and commenting on our relationship—happens way more than I expected.

Billie turns her head to them and purses her lips. Thinking that's the end of our fun, I release her wrists and begin to push off her. To my surprise, she raises her recently freed arms and threads her fingers through my hair, pulling me back down. My mouth opens in shocked delight and she latches her teeth onto my bottom lip, drawing my mouth to hers. I weave my fingers through the low braid at the back of her head and snake my other arm around her upper back. Tugging her against me, I press my shins into the ground and engage my core—yeah, I got abs—pushing us up to kneeling with her straddling one of my thighs. She releases a startled yelp before gripping my shoulders and shimmying her hips side to side, deepening her seat on my leg.

We kiss and caress a while longer until we're both pulling back panting with flushed cheeks, and what I see in front of me—what did they say back in the day? —warms the cockles of my heart. It's not how the midafternoon sun highlights her pink cheeks or how it makes her hair shine like rose gold. No. It's how she's looking at me. Her kiss-swollen lips are spread into a toothy smile, and her eyes, visible through her sunglasses, are full of soft adoration as they watch her fingers pull pieces of straw and dried grass from my hair and flannel. Holding her tightly with one arm, I reach my other hand to cup her cheek. She leans into my palm and kisses it, murmuring, "I love you, Jaxson."

My hand slides around to the back of her head, and I pull her to me. "I love you, mate," I say in a low voice, brushing my lips over hers, kissing her tenderly before releasing.

Billie braces her hands on my shoulders and presses up to standing before bending over and offering her hand to me. I grab on, and she helps tug me up. Tilting her chin down, her eyes taking in just how much dried grass and hay is still stuck on my black-and-blue flannel and loose jeans, she shakes her head and snorts a short laugh, brushing off the field apparently growing on me.

I turn and stare at the group of women who have yet to leave. In fact, that prissy one with the beret is still freakin' recording us. Pushing my hair back from my face, I point at her and request, "Make sure you tag me in that video. I'd like to share it with Ethan and Xander."

Billie barks out a laugh and rests her forehead on my chest. My arm comes around her back, holding her against me. The girl is startled, and her eyes, which were on her screen as if she forgot that we are real people and not just actors in her video, fly up to meet mine. Her mouth gapes and closes like a fish out of water, completely at a loss before stuttering, "Um... yeah sure."

Tugging Billie to my side and turning us around, we head to the store to pay for our fall decorations and pumpkins. She leans heavily into me, the smile never leaving her face even though she knows a video of us making out will surely be posted in a couple of hours.