Her Purr-fect Lions

by Jane Jamison

  * * * *

  Carol Dayton liked working as a waitress at the Whiskers and Whiskey Saloon. Except, that is, during the annual Shifter Days Festival. During the festival, the bar became overly crowded and busy as hell. Lonesome didn’t have a fire marshal or even rules regarding the occupancy of businesses like the bar. The werelions who ruled the town governed with a loose hand—or paw—until things got out of control. Then and only then would they call a pride meeting to come up with a solution.

  She scanned the crowd, easily picking out the locals from the visitors, and plastered on a smile in case any of them glanced her way. The festival-goers were okay and usually nice people, but they were horrible tippers. Instead, they were too distracted, their focus primarily on having fun. Or, if they were serious shifter enthusiasts, they were too bent on finding that elusive, real life werelion to notice good service when they got it.

  She shook her head. Most of them were like everyone else in the world. They knew shifters weren’t real, but during Shifter Days they were ready to cast aside their logic and go along with the fantasy. Or at least that was how she figured it.

  If only they knew the truth.

  Harvey Acres, a werelion who wasn’t known for his gentlemanly ways, leaned over a cute diminutive girl who was barely past the legal drinking age. The leer Carol had seen on his face far too often was back again, and she cringed much like the poor girl was doing. Someone had to save her from the old creep.

  Even shifters had their perverts.

  Damn it.

  She started toward the girl then stopped as Danny Landerson suddenly came up to Harvey’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. Not liking the interference, Harvey twisted around, amber flaring in his eyes as fangs peeked from between his lips. Yet as soon as he saw who it was, the amber disappeared as quickly as his fangs did. She almost laughed out loud at Danny’s small smile, a smile that held a definite warning. Slowly, Harvey straightened up, never taking his focus off Danny, and turned away. Danny nodded at the relieved girl, pivoted on his heel and, much to the girl’s obvious disappointment, headed back to the bar where his brothers stood.

  Good for you, sweet Danny.

  The pride had put the word out. Harvey wouldn’t have a chance at any of the pretty girls. He’d come too damn close to outing the entire pride while harassing another pretty girl during last year’s festival. The old fart might as well go home.

  Carol studied Danny. He had a great ass and wide shoulders. A girl could do a lot worse than hooking up with Danny and his two brothers, Jason and Shane. Still, she’d given them a shot a few years earlier and knew they weren’t the right ones for her. They’d been attracted, of course, and up for casual sex, but she’d declined, holding out once again for that special werelion or, hopefully, werelions who would become her mates.

  Until then, however, she had work to do. She slid her gaze around the room again. As she always did every Shifter Days, she’d hand out a few pitchers of beer to get the party going. As a rule, she liked giving the free beer to someone who wasn’t drinking heavily. At least, not yet. But a free pitcher of beer had a way of getting everyone in the mood for a good time.

  Her first inclination was to give it to the poor girl Harvey had targeted then decided against it as Denver Williams and his cousin, Liam Cobb, moved in on her and her friend. At least Denver and Liam could be trusted to treat the girls right. And judging from the girls’ smiles, Denver and Liam were welcome. She looked again, going from one table to the next.

  There.

  They were pretty girls, but they hadn’t been in the bar long. They were each nursing a mug of beer—probably having ordered it from Terry the other waitress—but they didn’t have a pitcher.

  Turning back to the bar, she took one of the pitchers ready and waiting for the waitresses and headed for the girls’ table. One of the girls had long, straight brunette hair. She was curvy, overweight by society’s cock-eyed standards, but with hills and valleys in all the right places. She’d barely touched her beer. Instead, she’d kept her eyes glued to the crowd. The look in her eyes told Carol one thing.

  She’s a believer.

  At least, during Shifter Days.

  Let’s hope she doesn’t get her beliefs confirmed.

  The other girl didn’t have the first girl’s sweet oval face, but her more angular looks were striking. Carol liked her curly blonde hair. She was leaner without the “fluffiness” of her friend, and she had a decent size pair of tits. Carol gave her a thorough once-over. If she decided to play in the other pond—as she’d done a few times before—she wouldn’t mind playing with that girl. As far as Carol was concerned, sexuality was a fluid thing. As most shifters believed, love shouldn’t be bound by the kind of body they were in.

  Love the person, not the package.

  She smiled broader as she came to stand next to the girls. “Hi there.”

  The brunette pulled her attention away from the crowd. “Hi.”

  “This is for you.” Carol set the pitcher down in the middle of the table.

  “It is?” Her gaze flitted around her.

  “It sure is.” Carol shot the blonde her best smile. If she was up for it, she might give the girl a whirl. “I’m Carol Dayton. Welcome to Lonesome.” She stuck out her hand to the blonde, preferring to shake her hand. Perhaps to hold it a little longer than was necessary.

  “Oh.” The blonde hesitated then finally took Carol’s hand.

  Ugh. Why do some women have handshakes that feel like a slippery fish? Why not give it a good, hard shake?

  “And you’re…”

  “Oh,” repeated the blonde. “I’m Winnie, and this is Bree.”

  “Winnie, huh? That’s a cute name. As in Winnie the Poo?” She liked the pink shading Winnie’s cheeks.

  “Uh-huh.”

  It’s a good thing she’s cute because she’s not much of a conversationalist. Yet still she stayed.

  “Okay then.” She didn’t see the point of sticking around. Winnie didn’t act as though she was interested.

  “So who sent us the pitcher?” asked Bree. Again, she searched the room.

  “I did.”

  The surprise on Bree’s face wasn’t unexpected. “Really? Why?”

  Carol shrugged, losing interest even more. “To welcome you to the festival, of course.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment clouded Bree’s tone.

  It wasn’t the first time Carol had gotten that reaction. “Sorry. I know you’d rather have had some great-looking men send it to you.”

  “No, no. It’s fine. And thanks.”

  Riight. It’s not fine at all. She chuckled and decided to throw Bree a bone. It was, after all, part of her job to help the festival-goers have fun. Then the idea hit. “Say listen. If you’d like some help getting to know a few of the guys around here, I can point you in the right direction.”

  “Really?” Bree’s face brightened. Winnie, on the other hand, kept her gaze averted as though not paying attention at all.

  “Sure thing.” She bent low then pointed toward the door. “I’m not sure you can see them with all these folks in here, but there are three really great guys sitting at the table close to the entrance. If you get a chance to meet them, go for it. Trust me. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Do you know them?” Bree was no longer looking at Carol. Instead, she was straining to see past all the people blocking her way.

  “I sure do. They’re my two brothers and my cousin. They’re really terrific, but don’t go telling them I said so. They’d never let me live a compliment down.”

  Bree’s expression brightened even more. “Ooh. Is that them?” She rose a little from her chair. “The one with the wavy long black hair sitting with the guy with the short blond hair?”

  “That’s them, all right. The blond is my cousin, Burton Bridgeport, and the other is my older brother, Matt Dayton. The other one with black hair is my other brother, Ridge.”

  “So you’re pimping out your own b
rothers and cousin?” Bree grinned, letting Carol in on her joke.

  Carol laughed. “I guess so. Although not in a professional way, of course.” She glanced at the men. “Again, though, they’re really good guys. And they definitely don’t mind showing a girl around town.”

  From the hungry look on Bree’s face, she half-expected Bree to jump out of her chair and rush toward them. Instead, Bree threw her a surprise.

  “What kind of shifters are they? Werewolves?”

  * * * *

  Bree saw the surprise in Carol’s eyes, but the waitress recovered quickly.

  Carol scoffed, blowing out a rush of air. “I know you’re here for the festival and all, but you do know that shifters aren’t real, don’t you?”

  Bree wasn’t about to argue. She had a feeling it wouldn’t do any good anyway. “Oh, sure. But if they were shifters, which kind would they be?”

  “Neither one. They’re just normal guys. Humans like you and me.” She straightened up. “Look, if you’re not interested, then fine. I was just trying to help out. You’re welcome for the beer.”

  Bree grabbed Carol’s arm as the girl tried to turn away. “Please, you can tell me. Are they werelions? If they are, will they give me The Allure?”

  Carol’s quick intake of air said it all. Bree had scored a direct hit.

  Still, once again, the waitress recovered fast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes.” She spoke to her friend but kept her focus locked on Carol’s face. “Right, Winnie?”

  Winnie, however, had twisted around, apparently too absorbed in watching something—or someone—near the bar.

  Damn, it, Winnie, pay attention.

  Carol tugged her arm free. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work. Enjoy the festival.”

  “But you do know about The Allure, don’t you? The thing that werelions do to compel a woman to come to them? You do. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Carol looked horrified. “No. You’ve got it all wrong. No one compels anyone.” She laughed, but this time her laugh was forced. “I think you’re getting your fictional supernatural beings mixed up. Vampires compel their victims, not werelions. But, seriously, we’re talking science fiction here.”

  “I don’t think I’m getting anything mixed up. But don’t worry.” She lowered her voice. “I mean, I know it’s a secret and all, but if I can find stories about werelions and The Allure on the Internet, so can anyone else.” At least, she thought so. Yet she’d had to look long and hard for information for the past year. She wondered if any other festival-goer would’ve spent as much time digging for information. Especially for fact and not fiction. At least, she hoped what she’d found were facts. But one overwhelming fact remained. She’d seen the lioness. That was a fact and a half. As for the rest? She’d find out once and for all now that she was back in Lonesome.

  Although she’d spent a copious amount of time researching, she’d almost given up. Then, late one night, bleary-eyed and worn out, she’d gotten lucky when she’d stumbled on an article in a small-town newspaper. The writer hadn’t named his source, but from what he’d written, how he’d described the town, the source had to be local to Lonesome.

  “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need to get going.”

  “No, please tell me. I have to know.” Bree’s eyes widened, realization hitting her. “Oh my God. Are you a shifter, too?”

  “Girl, you’re not working with all your marbles if you think I’m a shape-shifter. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  But I know what I know.

  And Bree definitely knew better. She was sure she hadn’t mistaken the look of surprise mixed with fear on Carol’s face. Questions swirled in her head, making it difficult to pin any one of them down for long. When she finally could, Bree started to ask, but Carol hurried away, glancing over her shoulder once as though worried that Bree would follow her.

  Carol Dayton, you’re lying. You know more than you’re saying. And I’ll bet everything I own that you’re one of them.

  She checked the table at the front just as the crowd parted, giving her an even better view than before. The three men were drop-dead, wet-her-panties gorgeous. She’d always had a thing for dark-haired men, especially those who had black hair and dark eyes. At least, she thought their eyes were dark, but she’d have to get closer to find out for sure. But the blond was a hunk, too.

  “Bree, what’d you say to her? She took off like a bat out of hell.”

  She turned to her friend. “Oh, so you were listening.”

  “I heard part of what you two were saying,” admitted Winnie. “So what’d I miss?”

  “I asked her what kind of shifters her brothers and cousin were.” She pointed at the men. “See those men? The three hot guys at that table? That’s them.”

  Winnie’s mouth dropped open. “You did what? Are you serious?”

  “I sure am. Plus I asked her if she was a shifter, too.” Granted, she hadn’t planned on asking anyone straight out, but why the hell not? “I figured I might as well cut to the chase.”

  “And what’d she say?” whispered Winnie.

  “She denied it, of course. She also acted like she didn’t know what The Allure was, too.”

  Winnie scrunched down in her chair and anxiously looked around them. But no one was listening. Everyone was too intent on having fun. “Keep your voice down. Besides, that allure thing is just something you read on the Internet. It’s not the same thing as seeing”—Winnie hunkered down even more—“one of them.”

  “But it’s true. I don’t know why or how I know, but I do. She’s one of them. And I’ll bet her brothers and cousin are, too.” Or maybe she just hoped it was true.

  No, it has to be real. It just has to be. At least, I hope it is.

  Just then, the crowd parted enough to see Carol at the men’s table. She had her hands flattened on the table, her head bent low. She glanced at Bree, saw her watching, and her eyes widened. Carol quickly put her back to her.

  That made Bree’s decision easier. True or not, she was determined to find out. “I’m going to talk to them.”

  “Wait. What? You can’t be serious. You’re not actually going to come right out and ask, are you? Please tell me you’re not.”

  Having already gotten to her feet, Bree turned back to her friend. “I thought we’d have a look around and, hopefully, I’d get lucky like last year. But maybe that’s not the best tactic. Like they say, a good offence is a good defense.” She frowned and added, “Or maybe it’s the other way around. I don’t know, but who cares? I’m going for it.”

  Winnie motioned for her to take her seat. “No. Let’s talk about this first. Sit down already.”

  “Nope. The time for talk is over. I think my running into a shifter last year was just dumb luck. And that we’re not going to be so lucky this year. It’s time to take action.”

  “I’m not sure everyone would think running into a werelion in the restroom would be considered lucky, but—”

  “But nothing, Winnie. My gut tells me to just go for it so that’s what I’m going to do. You can either come with me or sit here and wait until I get back.” The longer she took to get moving, the more likely she’d be to chicken out.

  No. I’m not going to chicken out. I’m doing this come hell or high water.

  “Bree, please. Don’t.”

  But Bree had turned, placing her back to Winnie. She threw her shoulders back, trying to give herself more confidence than she felt. “Nope. I’m going for it.”

  For them.

  She strode toward them, easing past the crowd and hoping like hell that she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself. By the time she’d pushed past locals and festival-goers alike and finally made it to the table, Carol was gone. The three men had pushed their chairs back so that they were facing her as she came up to them.

  For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. The
y were even more handsome close up. So handsome, in fact, that she knew with every fiber of her being that no men who looked like them would ever want someone like her. She would’ve done a quick turnaround and fled if one of them hadn’t spoken.

  “Hey, Bree. We’ve been expecting you.”

  Chapter Two

  “Sit with us,” ordered the one with wavy dark hair.

  The hungry glint in his eye was enough to make Bree believe in both a Heaven and a Hell. His dark, wavy hair framed his masculine face. High cheekbones combined with a square chin to give him a Native American look. He retook his seat, allowing his long body to slink along the chair, as he propped one knee on top of the other. The faded jeans and denim shirt he wore looked comfortable yet, somehow, sexier than any exotic male revue dancer’s costume.

  “Are you okay, puttin’?” asked the blond as he sat down. His dark blue eyes, eyes that seemed to dive straight into her and search her soul, brightened.

  Puddin’?

  Wait. Is that amber in his eyes?

  She remembered when she’d last seen eyes that color. The lioness had had the same amber in her eyes.

  He’s definitely a shifter. He has to be.

  She silently shook herself and remembered why she’d come over to their table. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Good to know.” The other dark-haired man grabbed the one empty chair at the table and pulled it out for her. “How about joining us?”

  His asking her to sit down was a good thing. If he hadn’t, her weakened knees might have given out on her. She sat, crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, only to cross them again.

  Calm down. This is why you came here.

  “Carol told us your name. At least, your first name. She said she told you ours, too. Or have you already forgotten them?”

  He’s playing with me. Like a cat toying with a mouse. No, like a lion toying with its prey.

  “You’re Matt Dayton.” Her gaze jumped from one man to the other. “And you’re Carol’s other brother, Ridge.” The blond had the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. “And you’re their cousin, Burton, right? I’m Bree Chambers.”