That’s when I saw her. A brunette strutted through the doorway wearing wedge shoes that boosted her four inches taller, white shorts, and a silk blouse. The kind that was low-cut in the front and looked like a gust of wind from the snap of a finger could make it evaporate.
Not to mention she was grossly endowed and had porn-star lips.
So that’s your competition? my inner voice wondered. Looks like your chance just went from slim to none.
Had she just walked into the room and mingled, I wouldn’t have given her a second glance. But she had her eyes all over Reno as if she were memorizing his DNA.
She crossed in front of him and turned around so that he could admire every angle of her curvaceous figure. When they engaged in conversation, I sulked.
How could I compete against someone like her, an ambitious woman who didn’t take no for an answer?
“Want to play a game of pool?” Denver winked and offered me his hand. “It’s my table; I can kick them out anytime.”
“I’m sure that’ll go over well,” I said apprehensively.
Denver whistled through his teeth by curling in his lips. The sharp sound caught the attention of the men and he gave them the universal thumb that said, “Get the hell out.”
To my astonishment, they obeyed, setting their pool sticks on the rack and shaking their heads. Denver retrieved the balls from the pockets and placed them in the triangular rack. “You ever played?” he asked.
“This’ll be my first time.”
“Okay then, I’ll break.” He handed me a stick and stood close, rubbing the chalk on the tip. “Solids and stripes. If a solid goes into the pocket, then that’s what I need to sink for the rest of the game, and you’ll target the stripes. Don’t sink the black ball until you’ve cleared your balls, or else you’ll lose the game. First person to clear the table of all their balls plus the black wins. Each time you sink a ball, you get another turn. Whenever you miss, you lose your turn.”
“Why don’t you show her how to hold your balls?” someone razzed.
Denver snapped his fingers at them without turning away from me. “Shut it,” he yelled and continued his billiard lesson. Excitement flared in his indigo eyes and I wondered if it was the game or me. “If you sink the white ball then you lose your turn, even if it goes in with your target. Make sense?”
“I think so.”
“If you sink the wrong ball, well, you just did me a favor. Ready?”
He whirled around, leaned over with his right arm pulled back, stroked the stick over the knuckles on his left hand, and made his shot. A loud crack filled the room and balls scattered across the table, sending a solid red in the pocket. Denver took another shot and sank a blue.
“Why do I have a feeling that I’m getting hustled?” I said, walking around the table.
Denver missed the next shot. “Your turn, honeypie,” he said quietly. “Aim for the stripes.” The music cranked up outside and the room became noisy again. Denver stepped up close and spoke privately. “Look, I can see you got a thing for Reno. You want to know why he won’t talk to you?”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Some dogs don’t like to be handed a bone; they want to work for it. Reno’s the kind of man you need to make jealous to get his full attention. He likes the challenge. Keep that in mind. Your shot.”
I nervously stepped up to the table and felt a sea of eyes watching me. I mirrored how Denver had held the stick and when I took my shot, the stick scraped across the felt top.
Denver hissed through his teeth. “Careful, it’s a new table. Here, let me show you.” He came around and took my left hand, curling my index finger. “Slide it gently through that hole.”
“That’s what she said.” It was our heckler again.
“Get the fuck out,” Denver said in clipped words, his biceps tightening as he threw back his shoulders.
The men shook their heads and stood by the bar but didn’t leave.
I’d been so caught up in the game I hadn’t realized Reno had his eyes on me. Not only that, but the girl with the Dolly Parton rack was still talking to him.
Grrr. Maybe Denver was right. I’m not sure why I’d sought Reno’s attention out of all the available men in the room, but because of the things I had told him about myself, I felt a connection with him that went beyond physical attraction.
“But you didn’t hold it like this,” I argued.
“No, but I have more control,” Denver pointed out. He’d held the stick across the base of his thumb but hadn’t looped his index finger.
I bent over and Denver leaned across the table next to me. “Your angle is all wrong and you’re in too much of a hurry to hit the shot. You have to line it up and take your time.”
“I can’t do this,” I said disparagingly. “I’m just no good at games.”
“If there’s one thing that all women are good at, it’s games. Let me show you.” His eyes lit up and he got behind me. Denver’s arms came around me and his hands slid up to my wrists. “The corner pocket is the easiest shot,” he said roughly in my ear. “You’re too close to the table, so step back a little. That’s it. Now bend over a little more.”
When I did, he walked around and readjusted my fingers to hold the stick properly. As he leaned over my back, I thought I heard a growl, but the music kept a steady beat that drowned out the low sounds. Denver stretched across my back and placed his chin on my right shoulder, holding my right arm and lining up the shot. His breath slid across my neck and when I flicked my eyes around, I saw the men watching with hooded eyes and whispering to each other.
I’d seen guys showing women how to play pool before, so I didn’t understand their interest. The pool stick gently glided between my fingers. In and out. In and out. In and out.
“Take your aim,” he said, settling over my back.
I stretched out my leg, causing some friction between our bodies. He released a hard breath and I focused on the ball as if my life depended on it. All eyes in the room were watching; I couldn’t mess this up!
“Concentrate on the ball. You’re too high. That’s it, honeypie.”
I thrust my arm forward and after the loud crack, the white ball sank the stripe. “I did it!”
An exhilarating rush filled my veins and suddenly pool was a game I wanted to learn more about. I turned around with a broad smile beaming across my face. Denver looked feverish—a look I’d seen on men before. His eyes lingered on my mouth as if memorizing its shape.
“That’s a pretty color of lipstick on you,” he said, licking his lower lip. “What’s it taste like?”
I shoved the pool stick against his chest and frowned. “Thanks for the crash course, but I should get back to the party.”
Disappointment flared in his eyes and he stepped back. When he did, I noticed the empty space where Reno had once stood.
Great going, my inner voice said. Looks like your plan to make him notice you backfired. Or was the goal to make him livid by hitting on his brother?
I mentally gave her the finger. Part of it was to make him jealous so maybe he’d walk over and talk to me, but I guess Dolly Parton had more to offer a man like Reno. I left the room and lingered in the empty hall, feeling uncharacteristically defeated. I hadn’t realized how much I liked Reno until I saw how little he liked me. Only then did the sting of rejection fill me up like venom.
“Hey, prettylicious,” a smooth voice called out. I looked up at a tall man lurking in the hall. He popped open the lid to a plastic container tucked under his arm. “I’m Jericho. I don’t remember seeing your sweet face around here before.”
This was the guy Lexi warned me about? I had imagined a musician with yellow teeth, nose rings, and gaunt features. Not a man with lush lips, razor-cut hair that fell to his shoulders, and an amazingly firm body. It was apparent the Cole brothers had been blessed with the hot and sexy gene, each flaunting it in their own unique way.
“I’m Lexi’s friend, April. We work together at t
he candy store.”
“Ah,” he said with a brisk nod, a look that indicated he “got” something that I didn’t. I wondered what Lexi had told them about me. “I have a private party going on in my bedroom. Want to join?”
I walked up and peered in the room. A woman was sprawled out on a beanbag chair with her legs open, holding a guitar and plucking the strings. Lying on his bed was a busty blonde in a pair of leather pants and a black top that tied in the back with a little string. She was on her stomach reading a magazine, her legs bent at the knee and crossed at the ankle.
“Um, no thanks. I’m waiting for Ivy to bring me a plate.”
“Here,” he said, offering the plastic container. “Tide yourself over with one of these. They’re abso-fucking-amazing. A friend of mine makes them for a living and I brought over a bunch of containers, but most of these pigs have already cleaned them out. I grabbed these for myself,” he said with an orgasm-inducing grin.
I reached in and politely took one of the cupcakes, licking the mint-cream icing off the top. “Mmm. Not bad. Is that buttercream?”
Jericho’s broad smile had a glimmer of mischief—the kind that could make a woman’s panties damp and give her a feverish glow. He seemed harmless and I didn’t know why Lexi had presented him with all the warning labels like he was some kind of a prescription drug. Jericho looked like a rock star, but he didn’t act cocky or rude.
“So you’re the guy Lexi warned me about.”
“Shit, really?” He shook his head. “I personally think she doesn’t dig my music.”
I peeked in the room again and noticed Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd posters, a black amplifier, and three guitars sitting on stands.
“Anyhow, if you change your mind and want to get away from those jerk-offs, I’ll be in here. Some of those assholes get a little rowdy as the night wears on, so watch yourself.”
He winked and closed the door, abandoning me in the hall to devour my chocolate cupcake. I patiently waited at the top of the stairs because it would have been rude to let Ivy go through all that trouble and then disappear on her. When I licked the last crumb from my finger, I wadded up the wrapper and placed it on the floor beside me. Why didn’t I just talk to Reno like a normal person? Maybe all that stuff he had said to me about saving a dance was just talk.
A door swung open behind me and a cacophony of sound headed my way. A man stormed out, pulling a shirt over his head as if he were getting dressed. I recognized him as the one who’d made all the lewd comments in the game room. A few spatters of bright blood stained his shirt, but his face didn’t appear broken or bruised.
“I don’t give a shit,” he said to his buddy. “That motherfucker is going down, so don’t you even try to stop me.”
“If you go after the host’s pack, then you’ll get buried in a shallow grave. I’ll be sure to stop by and piss on it to water the daisies,” his friend said. “Packmasters don’t like trouble at peace parties. Get a grip.”
“Fuck off. A swing for a swing is all I want.”
They tromped down the stairs in a hurry and I wondered what drama I had missed.
As the front door slammed, I rubbed my finger on a piece of icing staining the fabric on my dress, disappointed by the growing smudge. I had a hunch this would be an uneventful night.
Chapter 11
Reno watched as April handled her pool stick like a novice. He felt an inexplicable attraction to this human, as if he knew her better than he did. Maybe it was how straightforward she was about her life, especially given how Reno was a closed book when it came to his own past. An unexpected protectiveness flooded his veins, and he needed to get a grip on it. The second he entered the game room, he’d wanted to go to her. But he played it cool and took a moment to soak her in. That’s when a ball of nerves hit him right in the gut. Shit. Men like him didn’t get nervous over a woman, especially a human. All he could do was notice how radiant she looked in that delicate dress. Reno realized he didn’t know a damn thing about humans. Maybe they didn’t like the same abrasive approach he would give to a Shifter. He had to play this cool. Then she turned away and showed an interest in Denver.
Reno sighed deeply. Maybe she wasn’t that into him.
None of these assholes knew April was a human. You could only pick up on a human’s distinct lack of energy when you stood close to one. When April leaned over the table—her dress hitching up in the back and showing more leg—it became an open invitation to every man in that room. Reno had no claim over this human, but damn, it burned him nevertheless to see all those eyes leering at her. She was an innocent amidst a pack of ravenous wolves.
When a female Shifter turns her back on a man and bends over, she’s signaling her interest. April didn’t know better and was giving mixed signals to every male in that room.
The man in the pale blue shirt who kept shouting lewd remarks at them was three ticks away from getting his ass kicked if he didn’t keep it in check.
And then there was Crystal. Reno was pretty damn sure she wasn’t on the invite list, but Wheeler or Jericho must have added her. She’d been stalking Reno at every public function. He thought he could lose her by heading inside the house, but she had a talent of hunting him down.
Persistent little bitch, and he didn’t mean that in a derogatory way. Among Shifter wolves, females were affectionately referred to as bitches. It didn’t have the same negative connotation as it did among humans.
Reno had spent a lot of time getting ready that afternoon. He’d shined up his black boots, put on new laces, and picked out a white shirt that looked good on him, carefully rolling the sleeves to the elbow and unbuttoning the first two buttons. The leather belt he wore was one of his favorites and had a silver buckle. Reno even splashed cologne on his face and neck. He was a little surprised at the care he’d taken, but he wanted to impress April.
“You smell delicious.” Crystal let out a little growl, twirling her fingers around one of his buttons. “What color is your wolf?”
Personal, he thought. Unlike Jericho, who thrived on winning over the ladies with his wolf, Reno kept that shit locked up. He’d been told his wolf had a mask, and a lot of people thought that meant he had something to hide.
“I bet you’re famished,” she said. “I’ll go fix you a plate, so stay right here.”
Shifters loved a good woman who kept them fed; it was a nurturing characteristic. Other Breeds, like Chitahs, believed a man should cook for a woman. Not Shifters. They revered a strong-willed woman who looked after her family, took care of her man, earned a living, and kept the pack in line. In return, a good pack protected that woman and made sure her needs were met. Some packs lived outside the new laws and followed the old ways of some of the rogue packs. Those Shifters saw women as subordinates and treated them like whores. It disgusted him because it wasn’t the true way of the Shifter. Those were traditions spawned from corrupted Packmasters.
Crystal was submissive, and that was an attractive quality to Reno. She was the kind of woman he’d normally take to bed without hesitation. But tonight he didn’t give her a second glance.
“Be right back,” Crystal said in a soft breath, slowly easing around him and letting her hand slide across his chest. “I’ll take real good care of you.”
Meanwhile, two men drifted toward the bar. Reno’s wolf paced within him as Denver positioned himself behind April. She had no clue that letting a Shifter come up from behind was as good as giving him the green light to pursue her for sex. Denver knew, and he was taking advantage of her naivety. Something he was going to be sorry for after this damn party was over.
“I saw her come with a date,” the man in the blue shirt said. “Looks like this bitch needs a leash. Look how she’s slutting around and letting him mount her over the pool table.”
Reno clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in the process.
His buddy gave him a friendly jab on the arm. “I want a piece of that when he’s done.”
“Not before me,”
Blue Shirt said. “I got my eye on her, and I’m going to have my turn later on after this party kicks into gear. She can play with my balls and stroke my pool stick.” He laughed and walked out the door.
Fuck. That. Shit.
Reno pivoted around and stalked into the hall. He cracked his fist into Blue Shirt’s face so hard that the man hit the ground in less than a second. Reno didn’t break stride and went down the stairs.
“Austin,” he yelled out.
“Reno, get your ass out here and join us,” Austin said from the end of the porch. He sat casually on the railing with Lexi standing between his legs, his arms wrapped around her. That was one lucky alpha.
“Need to talk to you,” Reno said, jogging down the steps and cutting across the lawn.
Austin kissed the top of Lexi’s head and hopped down. “Be right back. You boys watch over my girl,” he said in warning, half kidding, half not.
No one ever assumed an alpha was joking when it came to his woman, and with him being a Packmaster, they fenced her in and continued talking over beers.
“What’s up?” Austin put his hands in his pockets and they walked to the side of the house for privacy.
“Why is a human here?”
Austin jingled some coins in his pockets and shrugged. “We don’t have rules about that kind of thing and you know it.”
“It’s an unspoken rule,” Reno argued, folding his arms. “She doesn’t know how to behave and—”
“She… You mean April?”
Reno kicked up a tuft of grass. “She’s leaning over a pool table with Denver right behind her. He’s answering to me later on, but it’s getting some of the men worked up.”
Austin rubbed his bristly chin, pushing the skin around as he glanced up at one of the lanterns. Out in the sticks, the night lit up as if someone had thrown a million diamonds into an obsidian sky. Reno noticed a few people lying on their backs, stargazing.
“Lexi’s been debating on telling April about our world since they work so close together running the business. I think she wants her to hang out with us first to prove we’re normal or some bullshit. You want April to leave? That’s going to be awkward as hell, and you can bet Lexi’s going to make a scene.”
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