Jason stepped across the threshold and was immediately engulfed in her scent. Around the packhouse he only ever caught a faint whiff of her, just enough to tantalize him but in her home he was practically swimming in it. Jason breathed deep letting her scent soak into every fiber of his being while Lobo rolled onto his back, belly up.
Blinking, he realized Phoebe was still anxiously watching him. Smiling he said, “Your home is almost as beautiful as you.”
Her gray eyes blinked wide, startled by his announcement then a rosy blush colored her cheeks, “Thank you. Umm…dinner will be ready in a few more minutes. Make yourself at home.”
She closed the door and hurriedly retreated to the kitchen where he could smell the tantalizing odor of chicken, sautéed vegetables and rice.
Make myself at home. Jason smiled at the idea. He had every intention of doing just that.
Spying a coat rack next to the door he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. His eyes shifted to her front door and he frowned as he counted the number of latches and deadbolts that had been installed. It wouldn’t do much to deter a wolf from entering if they wanted but it was an indication she didn’t feel safe.
Quietly he turned taking in the small, neatly arranged interior. There was a sofa and chair set arranged in front of the fireplace with a coffee table, side tables and lamps. An upright piano was tucked in a small nook and he immediately wondered if it was for decoration or if she knew how to play. But what caught his attention was books. Books were everywhere arranged in several bookcases, on top of the piano, on the coffee table, over the mantel. There was easily a thousand or more.
Has she read all of them? He wondered.
He could count on one hand the number of books he had read. He recalled what Luke told him concerning the pretend campfire as she related the plot of Treasure Island. Approaching one of the cases he read the bindings on the shelves: Great Expectations, Scarlett Letter, Moby d**k, Frankenstein and the Prince and the Pauper among many others all carefully arranged by the author’s last name.
“So…have you read all of these books?” he asked taking one from its place and paging through it.
“No. Over half…yes,” Phoebe answered. “My father used to read to me every night a couple chapters at a time until I was seven or eight, I think. After that I read on my own. We used to debate different aspects of the plot or the characters over the dinner table.”
Jason smiled at the thought of a little Phoebe curled up in her father’s lap as he read to her. Putting the book back in place he quietly wandered to the mantel where he found a framed family photo nestled among the books. Handling it with care he studied the faces of her parents. Phoebe looked a lot like her mother with a few characteristics from her father though neither of them possessed her gray eyes. It was clear they were a tight-knit family group.
He frowned. Her parents seemed older than he would have guessed. Werewolves in general aged slower than humans often appearing no older than their thirties well into their sixties or seventies but Phoebe’s parents already showed some gray and fine lines around their eyes.
“Dinner’s ready.”
Setting aside the picture Jason walked back to the kitchen. A small, round table sat in front of a bay window with two place settings arranged across from each other. The kitchen was small but not cramped with everything carefully arranged for function. As he watched Phoebe plated chicken breasts on top of a mound of rice with vegetables on the side.
She brought them to the table setting them down before heading to the refrigerator, “I don’t have any wine. I hope milk is all right.”
“Milk is fine,” he agreed though he would have agreed to anything as she poured two glasses before returning to the table.
With a nervous smile she gestured to his chair, “Um…have a seat.”
Jason stepped into the kitchen taking her chair and helping her to sit. When she was comfortable he carefully moved his place setting so that he sat beside her rather than across before he took his own seat. Phoebe blushed but remained silent as he surveyed his meal. Tantalizing smells of herbs and oil made his mouth water as he studied a meal that was certainly camera worthy. Having been the victim of his sister’s cooking in the past Jason was pleasantly surprised by the skill Phoebe demonstrated with this one meal.
“It looks fantastic,” he smiled. “Are you a master chef?”
Phoebe blushed and chuckled, “No. My mother used to run the packhouse kitchen. I learned from her.”
“And quite well,” Jason added before picking up his utensils and cutting into the chicken. “I wish my sister had half your talent.”
It was so tender he didn’t even need the knife. His mouth was already watering before he took his first bite. The savory flavor exploded in his mouth punctuated by the clever mix of herbs and seasonings. Even the pack cooks never made anything so engaging.
“So…you have a sister?” Phoebe asked by way of conversation as she cut into her own meal.
“Yes. Lucille. She’s a few years younger than me and already mated,” Jason said through mouthfuls. “My Gamma, and one of my best friends, was her fated mate. I couldn’t tell you who I was more jealous of at the time.”
Phoebe stifled a chuckle.
“And you? Siblings?”
“No,” Phoebe shook her head. “My parents met late in life. My mother wasn’t originally from this pack so it was pure chance she met my father at all.”
“Really?”
“She was the head cook at her original pack too and my father was one of our foragers and gardeners so he was the one usually sent out to buy groceries. One day he stopped at a farmer’s market and it just happened that my mother was at the same one. They’d both had all but given up on finding their fated mates by the time they met.”
Jason smiled picturing the moment the pair, well out of their primes, came face to face. Aloud he said, “Then they had you.”
Phoebe nodded, “My father went to school for teaching. He was something of a scholar and the pack tutor.”
“Next you’re going to tell me he was an expert piano player.”
“No. That was my mother. She loved music.”
“Amazing.”
Phoebe shrugged, “Is it? I mean, my parents were unranked pack members…just nameless cogs in the machine.”
Jason grimaced at the description but it wasn’t wrong. The majority of pack members were unranked existing somewhere between the delta warriors and low-ranked omegas that did the majority of the grunt work. While delta warriors could advance to gamma fighters over time, other pack members had little hope of advancement unless they were lucky to find a mate in the higher ranks.
“So you learned to cook and music from your mother and garden and read from your father?”
Phoebe nodded, “I went to college after high school for my teaching degree. I guess that’s why I decided to look after the pups. I make up lessons for them, keep them busy and out of everyone’s way…especially Luna Kristie.”
Jason grimaced, “She doesn’t seem to like pups in the slightest.”
Phoebe shook her head. Kristie had a short temper and there were many in the pack that bore scars from incurring her wrath. Phoebe was determined to spare the pups by keeping them away from their unpredictable luna.
“So you went to college.”
Phoebe nodded.
“That’s amazing,” Jason said.
“Is it?”
“Yeah, most pack members stick to whatever work they like but for someone to have the passion to actually go into higher education is pretty rare,” Jason said. “You are amazing.”
Phoebe blushed at his compliment making him wonder if anyone had ever expressed appreciation for her skill and dedication before. He for one would never stop being impressed by everything she accomplished.
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