The town fountain had been dead for eleven days. Nola promised the whole square she could fix it by Sunday.
Her coveralls used to be navy. Now they were navy and grease.
Dora: You've been under that thing since seven.
Nola: The motor is older than both of us. It needs sweet talk.
Dora: You talk to machines more than people.
Nola: Machines listen.
Dermot: Dora says you skipped breakfast.
Nola: Dora says a lot of things.
Dermot: She's right about this one. Take the wrench.
Nola twisted the last bolt, said shit under her breath, and hit the switch.
The fountain coughed. Then it threw water six feet up, like it had been holding its breath for a decade.
The bakery owner brought her a coffee. The hardware man shook her hand too hard.
Nobody in this town knew what she was. That was the entire point.
Here she was just the woman who fixed things. Nothing else attached.
Then the black SUV rolled up to the curb, and the square went quiet without anyone saying a word.
Pack. You could tell by the boots.
The Alpha came out last, the way important men always do.
Merrick. Gray eyes, black hair, and a face that had never once apologized for anything.
Nola kept her head down and her shoulders soft. Small. Uninteresting.
She had practiced that trick for years, and it was getting fucking exhausting.
Foster: Fountain's running again.
Nola: It does that when somebody fixes it.
Foster: Huh. Imagine that.
Merrick: Who signed off on this?
Dermot: She did. She fixes everything around here.
Merrick: Then send me the bill.
Merrick: The town can hire whoever it likes. Just keep the hired help out of my way while we work.
Hired help. He said it like it was a category of furniture.
Nola: Sure thing, boss.
What she wanted to say was a lot less polite. Sweet landed harder than sharp, she had learned that the hard way.
He did not even look at her.
He walked past her toward the van, close enough that his sleeve almost brushed her shoulder.
She lifted her arm to wipe her forehead, and the wind changed.
Merrick stopped like he had walked into a wall.
Foster: Alpha?
He turned his head. Slowly. For the first time all morning, his eyes found her.
Something in his chest turned over and kept turning. A hot pull that had nothing to do with the sun.
Mine, said the wolf inside him.
Merrick had trusted his own judgment for twenty-nine years. It went out like a candle.
Nola looked up. She saw a man staring at her like she had set the whole square on fire.
Merrick: What did you say your name was?
Nola: I didn't.
Foster: Nola. Runs the repair shop at the end of the block.
Merrick said it under his breath, like he was tasting something he could not name.
He had already decided she was nothing. His body had already decided otherwise.