What a Werewolf Wants (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

And she really wasn’t.

  “You look great,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I like what you’re doing with your hair. You’re going for that sexy, just rolled out of bed look.” He blew out a slow breath. “It’s working for you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” That was totally the look she was going for. Not. “Thanks.”

  She glanced in the reflection of the window. Her hair was tousled. Frizzed. Seriously needed a brush. But he liked it this way? Maybe for the bachelorette party tonight she could—no, she wouldn’t change a thing about herself for that man.

  “What can I do for you, Ryder?” She tented her fingers over the desk, exuding a sense of professionalism she didn’t truly feel. The room didn’t seem to be big enough for the two of them and their combustible chemistry. “Did you come to fill out an application?” Jerking the drawer open, she pulled one out and handed it to him. If he didn’t want something serious with her, why not fill it out and find someone else to fool around with? “Here. Take it.” She dropped it on the edge of the desk and hid her hands so he wouldn’t see them quake. “You can return it when you’re finished.”

  Sitting in the chair across from her desk, he crossed his ankle over his knee without taking a single look at the application. “Josie…”

  “What?”

  “I came to talk.” Even though his blue eyes still twinkled brightly, he looked tired. His face sunken. And wasn’t that Mitch’s shirt that he’d worn last night? “Do you have a second?”

  “I’m working.”

  “You don’t have a minute to spare? I wanted to explain what you might’ve heard last night.”

  Panic latched on to her windpipe. “It’s nothing. Really.”

  “I’d rather not brush it under the rug.”

  She stared him down. “To be honest, I’d rather forget about last night altogether.”

  He flinched. It was the tiniest scrunch of his handsome face, but he hadn’t liked what she’d said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is. And if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of work to do.” To prove it, she opened a manila folder sitting on the right edge of her desk and started perusing the applications, touching each one. “This takes up all my energy.”

  “I was wondering how you do it.” Uncrossing his legs, he slid to the edge of his chair and clasped his hands together over his knees. “Can I watch?”

  “No, you can’t watch.” Her heartbeat faltered as he quirked an eyebrow. “It’s a private process. And you don’t believe in it anyway, remember?”

  He leaned forward, nearly touching her desk. “It’s not that I don’t believe that you can sense a connection. I simply think you could be wrong every now and again. It’s not possible to know if someone is right for someone else based on an application alone.”

  “It’s seemed to work so far.” She shot him a smug grin. “Ninety-nine couples have come in single and ended up married. Mitch and Carrie will make one hundred if you keep your nose out of their business.”

  “What about you?” he asked, his voice going dark.

  “Me?”

  “Have you ever thought about finding your match?”

  Long ago, when she’d first opened Cole Matchmaking Services, she’d outlined what she wanted in a partner and husband. More than the details on paper she’d been adamant that they had to have a connection—an undeniable spark when they first met. She refused to settle for less than love at first sight that bloomed into a quiet wedding ceremony, a large family, a blissfully passionate forever.

  High hopes? Probably, but why not aim high? This was her life.

  For one glimmering moment, she thought she’d found something special with Ryder. They had a connection like no other she’d ever experienced. Except for one small detail: he apparently hadn’t seen the same future she did.

  If she wanted a future with marriage and children—and she did, more than anything—he wasn’t the one.

  “I’ve searched for my match as recently as last week,” she said, averting her gaze to the applications.

  “Of course you have.” Shaking his head, Ryder cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why wouldn’t you, with all theses applications at your disposal. Shouldn’t be hard to find a cat-loving vegetarian with a stable job.”

  “You’re right,” she answered quickly. “There are hundreds of guys who fit the bill.”

  But none of them were as appealing as the guy sitting across from her.

  As a strange rumbling sound filled the room, Josie leaned closer to her computer. Was it doing an automatic update or something? Just as suddenly as it came, the growling sound disappeared. When she met Ryder’s gaze, he seemed to stiffen.

  “That was strange.” She paused, still listening. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  At the moment, she couldn’t hear anything but her own heartbeat. It was pounding away, the way it usually did when Ryder was near. “I guess it was nothing. Anyway, the hard part is finding someone on the same page as I am. Someone who wants to settle down, get married, and have children.”

  But she didn’t want just anyone. She wanted him, even though he didn’t want her in the same way. She must’ve been pathetic. And desperate. But if Ryder wanted her right here, right now, she would give herself freely.

  “I don’t think you’ll have a problem finding someone who wants to give you those things,” he said, though he sounded pained. As if the words burned passing his lips.

  Then why won’t you? she wanted to say. But she bit her bottom lip instead.

  Jaw clenching, Ryder leaned back and gripped the armrests of the chair. “Are you bringing a date to Mitch and Carrie’s wedding?”

  She’d been so caught up in him, she hadn’t thought about it. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what you really want?” She struggled to read the stoic expression on his face. He revealed nothing, so she echoed her previous statement. Just to be clear. “You want me to find a date for the wedding?”

  He went rigid. Still as a statue. “Why wouldn’t I? You have the right to be happy, just like everyone else.”

  No mistaking that, was there?

  And if he didn’t want to be that man, why not find someone who did? Even if she compared every man to Ryder, the one she couldn’t have.

  “Then I will.” The air in the room sparked with tension. “Well, until I find the right guy, I’m going to focus on the company’s next perfect match. I wonder who the lucky one is today…”

  As she perused the papers, one in particular—an application for a forty-something doctor in Daly City—buzzed in her hand. Her hair stood on end. Plucking it from the stack, she held it in one hand and skimmed quickly.

  “Here’s one right here. A single guy looking for love. Dave Ransfield’s life is about to change.” She probably shouldn’t have said his name aloud, but whatever. She was too busy proving a point. “He went to medical school at Davis,” she read aloud. “No kids. One previous marriage to Anne Ransfield, who is a first-grade teacher from Simi Valley. Ended four years ago.”

  “Red flag,” Ryder piped up.

  “What flag?”

  “He’s quick to divorce.”

  “You don’t know that.” Josie frowned at him. “He and his previous wife could’ve been married a decade or more.”

  “Does it say that?”

  “No,” she said, searching. “But I’ll find out before I bring him in to match him with someone.”

  “Doesn’t the divorce rate rise with subsequent marriages?” Ryder smirked as if he’d won the argument. “I thought I read that somewhere. Doesn’t that worry you?”

  “Maybe he wasn’t meant to be with his first wife.” Her heart pounded as she stared into his sky-blue eyes. “Maybe he got married too young, and is now going to find his one true love.”

  His shoulders tensed. “You really believe in true love? Deep down? No bullshit?”

  “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be in this
business if I didn’t.” As the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket, Josie went back to reading Mr. Ransfield’s application. “Everything else checks out. Not a psycho so far.”

  “You can’t tell if he’s a psycho from a few dry details.”

  “Like I said earlier, I’ll do more research on him.”

  “Still won’t tell you everything you need to know before you hook two people up.”

  She turned to the back page to scope out Mr. Ransfield’s picture.

  “Hmm.” She waggled her eyebrows for effect. “Tall, dark, and handsome. I predict I’ll find his perfect match before nightfall.”

  Chuckling, Ryder leaned over the desk to sneak a peek at Mr. Ransfield’s picture. “You think you can tell how good-looking this guy is from a selfie he took in his bathroom?”

  “That’s not his bathroom,” she fired, looking more closely. And then she met Ryder’s gaze.

  He laughed. “Made you look, though.”

  “How old are you? Four?”

  Moving his application away from the stack, Josie thumbed through the rest, desperate to find Mr. Ransfield’s match. If she could find a perfect pair in front of Ryder, maybe he’d finally believe she could do this.

  But no other applications tickled her fingers the way his had. Turning to the manila folder on the right side of the desk, Josie removed applications from the previous month.

  “Oh, now she’s pulling out the big guns,” Ryder said, tracking her movements.

  Ignoring him and closing her eyes—the way she sometimes did when she really wanted to feel the client’s energy—Josie perused the applications in her mind.

  There.

  Same buzzing sensation.

  Picking up the doctor’s application, she held it in one hand and plucked the second one from the stack.

  “Gotcha,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Perfect match.”

  She knew she hadn’t lost her touch. Mitch and Carrie really were perfect for each other. She hadn’t had a mismatch yet, and there was no reason to think she would now. The wedding was going to proceed smoothly from here on out.

  “Really?” Ryder’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline as his eyes went wide. “You found it? Just like that?”

  She waved the applications around, victorious.

  “How do you know?”

  “I feel it deep down in here.” She patted her chest over her heart. “There are some connections you can just sense.”

  Like the one she shared with him.

  “I agree with you there.” His voice went hoarse. “One hundred percent. Some connections can’t be denied, no matter how much we try.”

  As he swallowed hard, she met his gaze. An odd glimmer of craving burned in his eyes, capturing her as his prisoner. He looked hungry for something, and her heart stuttered in answer.

  “So who is she?” Ryder said, rubbing his eyes to sever their connection. “Mr. Ransfield’s one true love?”

  Grinning smugly, she held up the application and glanced at it for the first time. “The perfect match for the doctor is…” She scanned quickly. “Anne Brown. I bet she’s lovely.”

  He nodded, his lips pressed together firmly. “And what does Anne do?”

  “She’s a first-grade teacher.” Josie paused, reading the rest quietly. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  “Wasn’t that what you said his first wife did?” Ryder asked.

  Nodding, she shoved the applications into the manila envelope. “You know what? I don’t feel comfortable sharing all of this with you anymore.”

  “Yet I took you on a stakeout with me,” he fired. “Come on. What else?”

  “No.” She tightened up like a clam. “It’s over. Done.”

  He snatched the manila folder. She jumped and tried to rip it from his hands.

  “What are you doing?” she hollered, charging around her desk. “Give it back.”

  Sliding the application from the envelope, he tossed the remaining applications on her desk and skirted the chair so she couldn’t catch him.

  “I just want to check something,” he said, dodging her as she leaped for it. “I have a feeling—“

  “This is private.” She went toe-to-toe with him, reaching for the paper. He was too tall, damn it, holding it out of reach. “Would you give it back? Please?”

  Maybe if she asked politely he would do it.

  Keeping it high, he read, “Anne Brown of Simi Valley…”

  “Give it back,” she blurted, bumping into his chest to reach the paper. Heat from his body radiated through their clothes and bloomed through her. “Ryder!”

  He read on. “First-grade teacher…”

  Stop, stop, stop.

  “…no kids.”

  “Damn it, Ryder, look at me.”

  He did as he was told, ripping the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t until that moment she noticed how close she was standing. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. If he moved his head an inch lower, she could lift up on tiptoe and catch his mouth. Chills scattered over her skin at the thought.

  He wanted to say something. Would he kiss her again? Damn it, why did she want him to? She should’ve been angry or hurt by what he’d said last night. Instead, she was more turned on by their playful banter than she’d been with all of her exes combined.

  “I have five words for you,” he whispered, dangerously close to her mouth.

  As he breathed, his chest moved hers. “Yeah?”

  Hadn’t she been the one in control a few seconds ago? Hadn’t she been composed and ready to prove a point?

  He held up his hand, spread his fingers, and counted down. “Formerly married to David Ransfield.”

  Those were not the words she’d wanted him to say.

  He grinned with that effing delicious mouth.

  “You almost hooked up a man with his ex-wife.” And then he laughed. “You have to admit it now…there are certain people who don’t belong together. Sometimes it’s not meant to be, even when there seems to be a connection there.”

  Doubt trickled in. Had she messed up when she matched her sister with Mitch? Ryder was certainly pushing for it. If only he would open up, and tell her what she was missing…

  Feigning indifference, Josie snatched the application out of his hand. “What if he was meant to be with his ex-wife, but he was too much of a pompous asshole to realize what was in front of him the whole time?”

  “You’re right.” Ryder nodded. Just once. “Of course you’re right.”

  And then he let himself out.

  Smart move, considering he’d gotten her all fired up.

  When Josie closed up shop at five o’clock and headed home to get ready for Carrie’s bachelorette party, she was determined to put the day, and the horrible mismatch, behind her.

  Tonight, she’d get glammed up and watch Ryder drool over what he couldn’t have.

  Chapter Ten

  The woman wouldn’t even listen.

  They’d had the perfect opportunity to talk in her office earlier. He could’ve explained everything. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in her—it was the soul-maddening opposite—but marriage, true love, and a forever romance weren’t in the cards for him. And that’s exactly what she was looking for.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, as much as he knew he shouldn’t have her. If she’d swallowed her pride earlier and let him explain that, things might’ve been smoothed over before the bachelor party tonight.

  “So,” Mitch said as he stumbled out of their cab onto Gough Street, “where are we headed next?”

  Being that Mitch only had Ryder in the wedding party, his two cousins—both non-shifters and annoying as hell—had begged to come along tonight. Probably had something to do with the prospect of seeing the scantily clad women who usually popped up at bachelor parties. But Mitch had made his intentions perfectly clear: he didn’t want to be dragged to a strip club.

  “Too many people,” he’d said. “Keep it low key. Barhopping, a few dri
nks, a relaxing night out.”

  If Mitch had been honest with himself, and with Carrie, the wedding would’ve been in the same tune.

  Happy to oblige, Ryder had planned a tour of Mitch’s favorite werewolf-owned bars in the city.

  By midnight, he and the cousins were down a few drinks each. The groom-to-be, on the other hand, had taken four shots at Brady’s Irish tavern and another three at the infamous speakeasy Whispering Whiskey. It was amazing he was still able to formulate coherent sentences. As his cousins tumbled onto the sidewalk, cursing and laughing, Ryder pointed to the sign overhead.

  “We’re here. Jolly Roger’s.”

  Mitch threw his arms up as if he wanted to hug the pirate on the sign. “I don’t remember this place. I thought you said we were touring my favorites?”

  “You don’t remember it because you’ve never been here before,” Ryder said, swinging open the door, “but the guy who owns this place is a two-hundred-year-old werewolf. He hasn’t found his Luminary yet, but he dated some dame for almost a decade and suspected her of cheating. He hired me, and we’ve been in touch since. I’ve never been here before, but I hear he’s got four hundred rare rums stocked behind the bar. And I know how much—”

  “I love rum,” Mitch finished. “You know me so well.” He tripped over the threshold and then laughed into a burp. Once inside the pirate-themed bar, he threw his hands up and hollered, “I’m getting married tomorrow. A round for the house!”

  And just like that, Mitch was the favorite drunkard of the night. All eyes turned their way as a roar of cheers and congratulations filled the room. The crowd was a mix of shifters and non-shifters—a loud, lively blend. Ryder took the seat next to his friend as the cousins made the rounds.

  Pounding the bar to get the bartender’s attention, Mitch said, “I’ll start with two Captain Morgans.”

  As the bartender nodded and started pouring, Ryder stared his friend down. “I can’t believe you’re getting married day after tomorrow.”

  “Well, get used to it, my friend.” Mitch patted him on the back, but with the force of his drunkenness, it was more of a shove. “I’m going to be the happiest married man on the planet.”

  Ryder suppressed his sigh. “Still charging full steam ahead?”