Addie (Pack of Misfits #1) - Raven Kennedy Page 0,2

point. Fifty percent of this job is just pretending to do crap on the computer so that I can avoid awkward customer exchanges.

But the longer he stands in front of me, the more I smell him. I don’t know what kind of shifter he is exactly, but Penn Weiss smells damn good. I’m not even one of those shifters that goes all scent-crazy, so that’s saying something.

He lifts an arm to run his hand through his ashy blond hair. “Me and a couple of buddies just moved here. Used to be a part of the Moon Pack in Arizona,” he says, importantly.

Ugh. Pack name dropping. I inwardly roll my eyes.

When I don’t immediately gush, he pauses a bit and stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking unsure. “You’ve heard of them, I assume?” he prods.

I pretend to be adequately impressed by smiling sweetly. “Of course. Every shifter in the western states has heard of them.”

He grins cockily. The grin is nice. The cocky? Not so much.

His name-dropping does more than just let me know he’s arrogant, though. It also clues me in to what type of shifter he is. The Moon Pack in Arizona is huge, made up of mostly wolves, bears, coyotes, and mountain lions.

“Yeah. We were some of the best enforcers they had. But we decided to branch out last year. Started traveling around on our own. We’re wanting to relocate here with a smaller pack.”

“How nice for you.”

A line appears between his dark blond brows as he frowns at me. Oops. I guess I’m not doing so well at pretending to adequately fangirl. I’m sure he’s used to shifter women going berserk over his famous former pack. Me? I’m just wary. I blink at him innocently before pulling out his cash and start counting it out to him. When I’m finished, he sticks the wad in his wallet.

“If you’re finished, the line behind you is pretty long, and—”

“Actually,” he cuts me off. “I need info about local packs. My buddies and I are looking to apply to join one. We’d be excellent assets,” he says, and I swear, he flexes his muscles.

What a tool. A pretty tool, though. I’d like to handle his hammer.

“I’m sure you’re very impressive,” I say dryly.

His frown deepens. Yep. My pretend game is definitely weak. “Yeah…ummm, so anyway, what pack are you in?” he asks.

My expression immediately hardens and I abandon the fake smile altogether. I don’t like it when anyone asks about my pack. Not because I’m ashamed, but because I’m protective as hell.

I know what happens when predator hotshots like this guy hear about Pack Aberrant. They laugh. They mock. They bully and throw challenges. It’s why my pack had to move around so much, especially in the beginning, when numbers were low. We are somewhat notorious in the shifter world. Other shifters love to ridicule us.

But we’ve been in this territory now for ten years—as long as I’ve been a part of it. As long as the bigger asshole packs don’t know where we are, they can’t come in and challenge us for our land or kill our members.

Luckily, there’s only one nearby—Pack Rockhead. Not so luckily, they’re my old pack. I left as soon as I was of independent age, on my fifteenth birthday. To say that there’s bad blood between us is putting it mildly. My blood relatives aren’t my family. They haven’t been since the first time I shifted. Pack Aberrant is more family to me than anyone that I share blood with.

“Why do you care what pack I’m in?” I ask.

He tilts his head to study me, probably wondering why I’m being so defensive. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

“Well, I’m not here to satisfy your curiosity. I’m here to work.”

His tawny eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Whoa. Down girl,” he says with amusement and a tugging grin. “You’ve got some bite. What are you? A wolf? Fox?”

Yep, I’m done with his questions. “Have a nice day, Mr. Weiss.”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Let me start over. Hi,” he says, holding out his hand.

I think about refusing to take it for a second, but then I see my manager watching me from his office. He likes to write people up if he finds that our interactions aren’t friendly enough to customers. Grudgingly, I take his hand for a quick shake before dropping it right away, because as all shifters know, we have a thing for touching. It