“Don’t worry,” Audrey said, settling in beside her. “We won’t let anything happen to you, so you can stop your scared smell. Bash is a brawler, and so is Kirk.”
“And Audrey will straight-up maim his ass if he gets out of line,” Bash muttered. “She didn’t get Second by a vote. She earned it with her claws.”
Emerson tossed Audrey a shocked look. Okay, knowing that Audrey was a tiger shifter and actually thinking about this woman carving out a place with these rough-and-tumble Boarlanders was unsettling. She was so nice, but maybe her beast wasn’t as sweet, and that was intimidating as hell.
“Your face looks so freaked out right now,” Audrey said through an amused smile. “Hey, look, I wore green to match.”
She popped the string of her white and green polka dot bikini, and just like that, Emerson relaxed. Audrey might be a shifter, but she’d never given her a reason to be scared.
A bright red, jacked-up pickup truck with black rims and fat tires bumped and bounced past the trees and through the back entrance of Boarland Mobile Park.
“There’s my man,” Audrey said, waving.
Harrison gave her a two-fingered wave from where his hand rested on the steering wheel. He pulled on through and came to a stop in front of them, parking right in the grass, just barely missing the new sod of Bash’s yard.
A dirty blond giant of a man with sparking gray eyes jumped out of the back of the truck, and a dark-haired man with blazing blue eyes slid out from the passenger’s seat. He looked tired and irritated, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. The T-shirt under his flannel was soaked straight through, but when he saw Emerson, he forced a smile. “You must be Emerson.” His voice was hoarse like he’d been yelling all day, but he offered his hand for a shake, and his eyes slightly darkened from their inhuman, icy color. “I’m Mason.”
“It’s really good to meet you, Mason.”
The blond wasn’t so polite, though. He spat on the gravel road and hooked his hands on his hips. “Clinton,” he gritted out under Harrison’s glare.
“I’m Emerson.” She held out her hand, but he only stared at it.
“You shouldn’t be here—”
“Again?” Audrey snapped. “Seriously? Clinton, you can’t stop anyone from pairing up. Stop being so fucking rude.”
“None of you understand what’s really happening,” Clinton barked out. “Every time someone in these mountains pairs up and adds to our numbers, you put a fucking target on our backs.”
Harrison sighed a pissed-off sound. “What are you talking about, man?”
Clinton shook his head for a long time, the silence growing thick in the trailer park. “Did you go to the doctor today? Are you growing a human fetus or what?”
“Clinton!” Harrison barked out.
“It’s fine,” Emerson rushed, not wanting to be the cause of any friction in the crew. “No, I didn’t go through with it. I need more time.” And hell no, she wasn’t ready to tell this rude man about trying for a cub with Bash. He would suck all the joy from their decision.
“Well, good,” Clinton said low. “Bash can’t be gentle enough for a baby, and you don’t need anything tying his bear to you. He wouldn’t leave you if you got pregnant, and now you can still get away from him, too. Look, I can’t stop you. I can’t stop anything. I tried.” He pulled her hand from her side and shook it startlingly hard. “Welcome to hell, Emerson, ’cause that’s what this place will be soon enough.” With one last fiery look for Bash, Clinton turned and strode for his trailer. The blue tarp flapped loudly as he slammed the door behind him.
“That actually went better than I thought it would,” Harrison muttered, his dark blue eyes zeroed in on where Clinton had disappeared.
“Me, too,” Audrey and Kirk said in unison.
Mason shook his head and said, “I need a vat of beer to wipe today from my mind. Kirk,” he said, swinging his attention to the goliath beside Emerson, “you made the right decision leaving when you did.”
“Why is he being so ridiculous today?” Audrey asked.
“The party for Emerson,” Harrison said. “He doesn’t react well to change.”
“This is my fault?” Emerson asked.
“No, it’s his fault,” Mason said, kicking at an ant pile with the toe of his work boot and crossing his arms over his chest. “Clinton likes to fight everything.”
“Should I go talk to him?”
“No,” Bash and Audrey said in unison.
“Just let him be. He can come to the party or not, his choice,” Bash said in a strange, monotone voice. “Come on. I need to fire up the grill and feed you.”