It wasn’t as if he wanted to point fingers and attach blame to make himself happier. He just had shitty luck. His education had never gotten him a job. The jobs he did find vanished from the work pool right under his feet. Okay, to be honest he had mucked up a couple times, but overall he was credited as a hard worker, a great guy…and still shown the door.
He wasn’t going to be forced to sleep in the streets—the family legacy covered that one. Nope, a roof over his head wasn’t an issue, although the house had become a bit of a trap. He couldn’t leave Haines without losing his rent-free home. He couldn’t sell it to use the funds to set up a place elsewhere. The red tape was frustrating as all get-out, and even that morning he’d gotten a reminder of the chaotic state of his housing affairs. The nicely written proposal for him to sell his unique home to some eco-adventure B&B developer. An awesome idea if it weren’t illegal, and thus impossible.
Not to mention, there was his Gramps to consider.
He had food on the table—he wasn’t lazy, or too proud to work any kind of temporary job to keep the money coming in, but a real job? Something he could do for a career? Elusive as the northern lights on a summer day.
He propped his bike against the wall of the house and shuffled into the common room, the scent of fresh-baked brownies making his mouth water. Less than a dozen pack were gathered in the room, chilling out in easy chairs as they read, a couple of older members facing each other down over a chess board.
Missy, the pack Omega, swung into the room, her hands full of baking, and he rushed forward to help. “Not that I’m going to complain, but why are you cooking?”
She smiled and shook her blonde curls as he took the tray. “I promised Tad I’d stay at the pack house today, and if I’m here, I may as well be productive.”
Mark carried the goodies around the room as he considered her words. That was one of the coolest parts of the Granite Lake pack—even the top levels of leadership were right there and involved. Missy and her mate Tad were occupied with their young family, busy with personal jobs and caring for pack in their weird and wonderful all-knowing-emotional-touchy-feely Omega wolf-shifter way, but they never stopped doing what needed to be done.
Of course, by the time he’d made the rounds and deposited the remaining goodies on the table, Missy was seated in a chair at the side of the room waiting for him.
Drat. He should have known he couldn’t avoid a little heart-to-heart. He lowered himself into the chair beside her and wondered how long he could distract her from her lecture, or interrogation, or whatever it was she had planned. “Where are your kids?”
Missy shook a finger in his face. “Don’t even try it, buster.”
Mark snorted. So. That’s how long. “Seriously, I’m curious.”
“Forget my kids. Why are you at the pack house at this time of day, wearing that kind of face, young man?”
“You like this face better?” He cocked one eye shut and grimaced. “Arghh, I’ve been given me walking papers. Off the plank and into the brig with me, matey.”
“Oh, Mark. I’m sorry. I thought you were enjoying yourself at the factory.” Missy leaned back in her chair, sympathy on her face.
“Low season approaches. You know how it goes. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll find a new job soon enough.”
She nodded slowly. “You always do. That’s not a problem. But…”
Mark took another bite of his brownie and waited. There was obviously something she wanted to share. He stared out the window and calculated the most difficult bike route he could attempt after this little discussion was done. Death-drop highway? His thighs would be screaming.
Screaming would be good.
A soft touch to his knee brought his attention back to Missy who watched him carefully.
He forced himself to focus. “What?”
“I asked if you’d ever thought about going into business for yourself?”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through him. Of all the things she could have said, that was on the least expected list. “Umm. No.”
“Because you don’t…what? Think you can do it? Don’t want the responsibilities?”
“Of course not. I mean, I just had never thought of it.” She’d managed to jerk all thoughts of gloom and doom from his mind and instead fill it with confusion. “Why would you suggest that?”
She shrugged. “Well, for as long as I’ve been around the pack, I’ve seen you handle many kinds of jobs. For different lengths of times, yes, but they all seem to have a common ‘handy man’ theme to them. So I was wondering why you’ve never set up a personal business and offered those same services under your own name.”
Mark felt something hard hit his jaw and figured it had to be the floor.
Missy went on. “While you might have slow periods, you’d be able to make more money during the prime season than working for someone else.”
His mouth went dry.
“You’d have to deal with the legal and financial aspects, of course, but—”
Whatever else she was going to say was smothered under his arm as he leapt up, bounded over to her chair and enveloped her in a huge bear hug. “You’re a genius.”