He shrugged. “You never know.”
“So, now that you’ve confirmed I was telling the truth, am I free to go?”
“You just gonna let him talk to you like that?” one of the other shifters growled.
Talk to him like what?
“Hey, not right now. I don’t need a peanut gallery,” Salvador countered, and gratitude flowed through me. While I was fairly confident I could hold my own against five of the Ramirez pack, I would be lying if I didn’t admit those were dicey numbers.
“You’ve put me in a bit of a bind,” Sal said, his gaze returning to me.
“I understand. And again, I apologized.”
He nodded, his expression unchanging. “You see, I believe in an eye for an eye, and you extended grace to several of my men for one of our little ones. I don’t take that lightly. In any other situation, I don’t see why I wouldn’t just turn a blind eye to your little mistake.”
Thank God, he was seeing reason.
“The only issue is, we aren’t in any other situation-we’re in this situation.”
Wait, what?
“You’re not just some other alpha in my territory. You’re the alpha of the pack that tried to wipe out my own. We’ve got centuries of beef between us, so you’ll understand why I won’t exactly look right in front of my people if I let you go.”
He sent me a meaningful look. As much as I hated the sudden turn in our conversation, I got it.
Sal was young and trying to get into his pack’s good graces after his brother had messed up over and over again. It was a lot of pressure on his shoulders-pressure that was inescapable as an alpha.
Well, shit.
What to do? Suddenly, I found myself having a silent conversation with the man. It was pretty clear we’d both rather be done with this, but his pack members expected him to use the advantage that had dropped into his lap for the betterment of his people. The same as mine would expect of me.
So, what do we do?
“Attention shoppers, the market will be closing in two hours, and we wanted to take this time to remind you of several community events coming up.”
The loud blare of the speakers at several points in the market made us all jump, and it might have been comical if the tension wasn’t so thick. What terrible timing. The last thing I needed was its awful, staticky drone to distract me while I was doing mental gymnastics.
“Then…” I started slowly, my mind whirling at a hundred miles a minute. What would my father have done in such a situation? He’d always been a strong man. He’d defeated the much more experienced and larger Barris, but he’d considered violence something that was a last resort in the modern age.
“First, we have the girls and boys choir of St. Elizabeth who will be performing an acapella medley from a competition piece to raise money for their upcoming trip to Madison Square Garden. The event will be free to attend, but donations are highly suggested.”
“Shit, would they shut that thing up?” the shifter who had shoulder-checked me groused.
I couldn’t afford to drop the ball now. I’d gotten Sal and I into this sticky situation, so it was up to me to get us out of it. I had too much to lose. Not just my pack, but also Felicia, who I desperately wanted to get to know better and grow closer to. We had so many more experiences to share, recipes for me to help her with.
“Three Sundays from now, will be our community bake
-off. There are still openings for three teams of two to ten people who will be responsible for several rounds of delicious treats. Please stop by the head office at the end of the main building for more information on signing up.”
Wait.
Wait a goddamn minute.
What if that was it?
Pretty much everyone knew the Ramirezes cookouts put our modest reunions to shame. Shifters who passed through or were neutral to all our packs but got an invite always ended up raving about the flan, the tres leches, empanadas, Native pudding, and maple syrup pie that several of their tias and abuelas made.
“A challenge,” I said after a very pregnant pause.
Sal’s eyes went wide, and I couldn’t blame him. Normally, a challenge was a physical fight, often to the death, between two alphas competing for the same pack. Obviously, that wasn’t the case here.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he ground out, his face somewhat pale.
“You heard the announcement. The community bake-off. My pack against yours. If we win, you not only let this little transgression slide but…” I knew I needed to ask something else, but what could they possibly have that I wanted? There was no denying that my pack pretty much had the upper hand in every consideration. “Uh, you give us the recipes you used for the bake-off.”
All five of them were staring at each other like I’d said the most ludicrous thing. It was pretty out of the box, but strangely fitting. The whole situation had come about because of baking, so why not let baking resolve it?
“And if we win?”
“I don’t make a fuss about you reporting me to the fairies, and you get all our recipes we use for the bake-off.”
Sal said nothing for a long moment, but he did seem to be actually debating. “All your recipes for the bake-off and your ale-brewing process. Heard a lot of good shit about that.”
“Our brewing process?” That was so far beyond my knowledge, but whatever. I stuck my hand out, eager for the compromise. “Deal.”
Of course, Sal made me wait for several very long seconds before he clasped my hand.
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