by Vivian Arend
“I know. I get to hear this story every damn year. An old woman foretold your future and called you the Copper King. Blah, blah, blah.” Damon shook his head sadly, as if ready to call the men in white for a visit. “She’s a figment of your imagination, Jim. You were drunk.”
“Me? If I was drunk, how come you don’t remember how we got back to the ship?” Eighteen years old, and they’d spent the summer running rampant through the Mediterranean. It was the best graduation present his parents could have given him.
Another hard slam to his gut. Another fake smile pinned to his lips.
Damon?
Laid a hand on his shoulder, as if the bastard knew exactly what was going through his brain.
Jim lifted his glass in a silent salute to his parents before shooting the liquid back, the cold burn settling in like a familiar fire. Seize the moment—it’s what they would have wanted. It was part of the reason they’d given him such freedom so many years ago.
And the summer hadn’t all been partying and fooling around…
Well, it had mostly been partying and fooling around, but there had been two other noteworthy accomplishments. The acquisition of the ancient coin he and Damon had pooled their rapidly dwindling resources to purchase, and Jim had gotten a good look at all the different architecture.
He’d come back inspired, not only from the Copper King prophecy bouncing in his head, but with the belief he could do anything he applied himself to.
Including becoming rich building others’ dreams.
Richer. He might have been born into money, but he’d more than doubled his initial stake since putting his mind to the task.
At his side, Damon swirled his whiskey, his smile broadening. “That summer will live on in infamy.” He glanced at Jim. “Whether the fortuneteller was right or not, we’ve had our moments, haven’t we? I mean all things considered, who would have guessed that a wolf and a bear could go as far as we have in the last dozen years?”
Jim raised his second drink in the air. “It’s only going to get better.”
Damon clinked their glasses together, and they both drank, the icy liquor flowing down Jim’s throat in a rush that turned to liquid flames.
Having a wolf shifter as a best friend wasn’t typical, but then neither Jim nor Damon were typical shifters. Rather than hang out with the wolf pack, Damon tended more toward the loner side of the equation. And most bears, who were better known for enjoying seclusion, didn’t understand why Jim enjoyed constantly having company around.
He liked time alone well enough, but crowds made him surprisingly happy. And women—
Because these days it always came back to the women. They were his distraction, and thus his salvation.
On the other side of the round bar, two nicely packaged ladies were eyeing them, lashes fluttering as they sipped their drinks and whispered together in low tones.
Damon noticed them noticing, a low approving rumble escaping as he motioned for the bartender. He ordered a pitcher of beer then turned back to Jim. “The blonde on the right thinks you’re exceptionally sexy, by the way. She wants to slurp you up in one go.”
Jim choked in mid-drink. “You should come with a warning sign. It’s not fair wolf hearing is that much better than humans’.”
“You’re just complaining because you can’t hear for shit.”
“Fuck off.”
His hearing was better than a typical human, just not as good as a wolf. Another delight of having old friends—the arguments carried on for years. “You want me to open a can of whoop-ass on you?”
His friend twisted in his chair. “Ignoring for a brief moment the all-too-desirable damsels who are flirting with us, are you ready for this year’s challenge?”
“I take it we’re not canoeing the length of the Yangtze River?” He’d come so close to winning last year, he’d been positive Damon wouldn’t dare another physical challenge. Yet here they were in Nevada. “We’re trekking across the desert, right? No food, no water. A true Survivorman in the best tradition of shifterdom.”
“Unfortunately, there are a few too many satellites perusing this section of the state. I don’t think we want anyone wondering why there’s a grizzly trekking through the area. Hell, do you want to end up hit by another tranquilizer dart?”
Jim chuckled over a previous year’s disaster. “I never expected the RCMP to find us that far north in Québec.”
“You’re lucky I figured out which zoo they took you to after you got caught.” Damon put his empty glass on the bar. “No, since I am the previous winner and get to set the challenge, I’ve worked hard to make it perfect. I considered organizing a game of wits—”
“Admitting defeat already, are you? Since you’re unarmed?”
Damon ignored his interruption. “—and instead decided that, come Friday, we’ll be biking to Crater Lake and back.”
Wait. “Okay, the biking thing works for me, as long as you’re talking motorbikes, but what the hell? Why did you tell me to get here on Monday if this doesn’t go down until Friday?”
“Can I borrow your phone for a second?”
Jim stifled his second what the hell and handed it over. “Not answering my question is immature. What gives?”
His friend shrugged, poking briefly at the phone. “I figured you need one thing right now. Time off.”
“Right. I’ll take the day off to do the ride.”
“And you’ll dive right back into work the next day.”
“So?” Jim glared, daring him to keep pushing.
Like the moonstruck-crazy wolf that he was, Damon only grinned harder. “So, consider this an enforced vacation. From now until we hit the road, you’re off the clock. You’re in Vegas. Play some games, find someone to screw. Have some fun.”
Damn it. His friend was asshole enough to force him to have a good time. “This is bullshit, Damon. Give me back my phone.”
“Sure.”
Jim watched in shocked disbelief as Damon deliberately dropped his lifeline to work into the beer pitcher the waiter had just set on the counter.
“You shit.”
Damon hauled the container out of reach before Jim could rescue his technology. “I know you have nothing vital in the works, because you had no idea where I would take us. Which means, as completely obsessive as you are, you cleared your calendar for the week. Suck it up and have a good time for a change.”
It was damn near impossible to stay angry with the loco wolf. “You owe me a new phone, and a new pitcher of beer.”
“Deal.” Damon thrust out a hand. “First thing when we get back from the road trip, I’ll buy you one with all the bells and whistles.”
Jim gave in and gave up, shaking his friend’s hand. It wasn’t that bad an idea—spending a couple days hanging out with the bastard. “We haven’t done this for a long time.”
“Maybe you haven’t, but I’m fully up to speed with all my moves, and ready for the next round.” Damon eased back his chair, tilting his head toward the women, making it obvious what kind of action was on his mind.
Hell, yeah. Jim made eye contact with the ladies who sized him up as if he were a tasty piece of cake. One of them licked her lips, and a hit of sexual heat rolled through his gut. If Damon insisted he had to stay and play?
Playing could be fun.
He slapped a pile of bills on the counter, motioning for the bartender. “Tell the ladies their drinks are on me.”
Jim planted a hand between Damon’s shoulders and forcibly directed him around the corner of the elevated bar. The women watched, rosy-cheeked and obviously pleased at their approach.
“Who says you’re out of practice?” Damon elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re such a dog.”
“Look who’s talking, wolfboy.”
His friend didn’t argue. In fact, he slipped between the women easily, hands landing on their shoulders as he kicked into flirtation mode.
With devoted attention to his task, Damon didn’t notice Jim jerk
to a complete stop, captured by the most mesmerizing sight on the casino floor.
Sensual curves topped by absolute concentration, the woman’s gaze was fixed on a poker table. Her face was unconventionally beautiful, with high cheekbones and a crooked mouth, the corners of which were curled into a smile that screamed mischief.
Jim unlocked his feet from where they’d frozen to the ground, drifting forward slowly so he could get a closer look at his wonderful discovery.
Her hair was incredible. Long strands of spun reddish-gold, fresh from Rumpelstiltskin’s wheel, the shimmering mass brushed past her shoulders. The tiny diamond in her earlobe flashed in the lights as she stroked a loose strand behind her ear.
He wanted to see if her locks were as crushably soft yet silkily strong as the strands of copper they reminded him of. The copper he had, in his early years of construction, painstakingly handled, coiling old wire into bundles to be resold.
He’d made part of his millions touching copper, and right now all he wanted was to touch copper again.
A pleasant anticipation shot through his limbs, and his bear rumbled awake.
She was short, petite even. The size of woman he could scoop up with one arm and not even notice her weight, especially if she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Of course, that would lead to her putting her legs around his hips, and suddenly the images flashing into his brain were far more intriguing than the idea of hanging with Damon, even with the lovely ladies at the bar.
His mysterious woman licked her lips, and his groin tightened further. He stared at the moisture left behind on the plump surface as driving lust hit. He needed to taste her. Her lips, the curve of her neck. The sweet swell of her breasts.
His cock pressed rock hard against the front of his dress pants, and he damn well planned to do something about that. Very soon.
A brief, blinding concern struck—everything about her wide-eyed innocence called to the protective side of him. He didn’t want to simply fuck her a few times. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, bending low to protect her from the sight of everyone else as he took the first taste of her rose-tinted pout. But no way would another woman come between him and winning this challenge.
Which led to a conversation between his lust and his ambition. Jim never understood why other people talked about having angels and devils on their shoulders to work out moral dilemmas.
All he had was one raunchy bastard and one filthy fucker, and it was scary how fast they got to the point.
It’s only Monday. You have until Friday.
This is just about getting her into bed.
Of course. And in the shower. And up against the wall.
Go get her…
He took another top-to-bottom perusal, his amusement rising after spotting the neon-green shoes on her feet. Pale grey pants clung to her legs, rounding over the flair of her hips. Her top was white with what looked like teeny polka dots scattered on the material, a hoodie in the back. The cut of the front was modest, but he’d easily fix that by slipping a couple buttons loose to better appreciate her full breasts. For someone who would barely come up to his chin, she was built just how he liked.
Now all he had to do was convince her to time with him.
Damon insisted he relax? He knew exactly how, and with whom, he planned to relax with.
Copper King is available now
~~**~~
Granite Lake Wolves
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Wolf Nip
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About the Author
With over 2 million books sold, Vivian Arend is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary and paranormal romance books, including the Six Pack Ranch and Granite Lake Wolves.
Her books are all standalone reads with no cliffhangers. They’re humorous yet emotional, with sexy-times and happily-ever-afters. Vivian pretty much thinks she’s got the best job in the world, and she’s looking forward to giving readers more HEAs. She lives in B.C. Canada with her husband of many years and a fluffy attack Shitzu named Luna who ignores everyone except when treats are deployed.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Wolf Nip
Copyright © 2013 by Vivian Arend
ISBN: 978-1-941456-60-6
Edited by Anne Scott
Cover by Sofie Harley of Hart & Bailey Design Co.
Proofed by Sharon Muha
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations.
First electronic publication: February, 2013
Second electronic publication: June, 2017
www.vivianarend.com