Chance Fur Hire

by T. S. Joyce

  Unable to force an answer up her tightening throat, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and nodded. Friends. That sounded nice. Not enough, but nice. Chance sighed and pulled her closer. So warm. She’d been so wrong.

  “No more hate,” he whispered against her ear. “Detox starts now.”

  She swung an uncertain gaze to the door of the bar, then back to Chance. His eyes were so bright it was uncomfortable to look in them right now, and the air that had been so heavy in the bar had followed him here.

  “You’re dominant, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “And a little scary.”

  “Comes with the territory. You’ll have to trust that I don’t give into the animal urges.”

  “Friends,” she said on a breath.

  A muscle twitched under Chance’s eye, and he dipped his chin once. “Friends.”

  Inflating her chest to look stronger, she said, “Okay.”

  “Em?” Chance asked, pulling her hand so she couldn’t escape to the bar.

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s keep who you are quiet for now.”

  “You don’t want your pack knowing you’re best buds with a Hell Hunter?”

  His face cracked into a smile. “Exactly.”

  He had a dimple, just one, on his cheek. Heart fluttering in her chest, she touched it lightly. She wouldn’t have seen it under the blond scruff he wore at the gas station earlier. “You shaved.”

  He gripped her hand so fast he blurred from one instant to the next. Holding her in place, he let off a low growl that brought chills to her skin.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it. His grip was like steel.

  “I’m not mad.”

  “But you growled.”

  “That doesn’t always mean displeasure.”

  Heat dumped into her middle as an image blasted across her mind of them sitting on a bed, his cock buried deep inside her belly with that sexy noise in his throat. Cheeks burning, she ducked her gaze.

  And now he was canting his head again, like a curious wolf who’d just seen a lamb do something strange. “I shaved for you.” Chance stood abruptly, released her hand, and strode toward the bar, leaving her to stare after him and wonder what the hell had possessed him to shave his facial scruff for someone like her.

  Midway across the muddy lot, he turned, his grin downright wolfish. “Come on, friend. They’re playing our song.”

  Emily listened to the notes pouring out of the bar and grinned. It was a catchy song about friends with benefits. Cheeky werewolf.

  Chance leaned his weight onto one locked leg, the other relaxed and the fire fading from his eyes as he held out his hand, palm up. He cut a beautifully masculine figure there in the light of the single street lamp, silently asking her to give in and come play with the wolves.

  This was the moment. This was the exact second that would change her life completely. She was picking a side and shunning everything she’d been trained to do, everything she’d been convinced to believe. She was shedding the outer shell her family had forced onto her like a shield, and she was taking a chance to get to know the prey she was supposed to be hunting.

  Licking her bottom lip nervously, she tromped through the sucking mud and slid her fingertips lightly against his palm. The electric shock zinged up her forearm, causing her fingers to flinch. This time, she didn’t yank away, though, and neither did he. Chance frowned down at their touching hands, then lifted that striking green gaze back to her. Without a word, he squeezed her hand in his and led her between a pair of SUVs.

  The blare of truck engines echoed down the street, and she barely resisted the urge to cover her ears from the loud, startling noise as she turned.

  “Oooh, shit,” Chance drawled, a smile in his deep voice. When she looked up at him, she could see the dimple again as his eyes followed a pair of old trucks to their parking spots.

  “Who are you here to hunt?”

  “Uuuh, you.”

  “What animals.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “What kind of shifters, Em. Quick.”

  “Wolves. For now, just wolves.” Guilt riddled her. “The others are on the list, though.” Grizzly and fox shifters, specifically. God, she hated Uncle Victor.

  “Okay, well you’re about to meet some of them,” Chance said out of the corner of his mouth as he waved to the couples pouring out of the trucks. “Have you heard of the Silvers?”

  “The Silvers?” she squeaked. “I’m not ready.”

  “Get ready, girl. Vera’s gonna get you so drunk.”

  “The Vera?” The fox shifter who was single handedly garnering the attention of the late Hell Hunters by curing all the parts of werewolves that kept them manageable and their numbers in control? Double shit.

  “Chance, you can all hear lies.” She was panicking, yep, yep, yep.

  Chance gave her a grin. “Then plead the fifth or tell the truth.”

  “But you said not to—”

  “Who is this sexy thang?” a woman with perfect chestnut curls and strange gold-blue eyes asked. “Please tell me she’s your boink buddy.”

  “Friend,” Chance corrected. “Vera, this is Emily. Em, this is Vera.”

  Vera grabbed her hand and shook it so hard she just about rattled Emily’s bladder loose. “Good to meet you, Emily. You and me are gonna take some shots.”

  “Told you,” Chance murmured as he got sucked into a bone-rattling hug from one of the giant Silver brothers. “Elyse, where’s the cub tonight?” he asked a honey-haired beauty with whiskey-colored eyes.

  “Link and Nicole offered to babysit. Hi, I’m Elyse Silver,” she said through an easy smile for Emily. “That tiny man over there is my mister, Ian.” She nodded her chin toward the titan with his arm slung around a similar looking giant wearing an excited grin.

  “Hey, Emily,” Ian said, then punched the man under his arm. “Say hi, Jenner.”

  Through a baiting grin, Ian’s dark-haired brother repeated, “Hi, Jenner.”

  “Idiots,” a dark-haired woman with auburn tips on her long tresses said with a roll of her eyes. “Ignore them, all night if you want. They’re in a ridiculous mood. I’m Lena.” She lifted a camera from her chest and flashed Emily blind with the click of the button.

  “Lena takes pictures,” Vera said, bouncing up and down to stay warm and standing way too close. “She’s like our own personal paparazzi, but you’ll thank her later if she decides to bestow a picture on you. Come on, weirdos. We have drunken shenanigans to do. McBeefcake, we need tequila immediately.”

  “Tobias,” the last of the gargantuan Silver brothers introduced himself in a rush as he passed, dragged heartily by Vera.

  Emily gave Chance a big-eyed look, but the smile was fading from his face. “I love these people, Em. They’re good. Swear not to hurt them.”

  Chance was putting on a brave face, but he still didn’t trust her, and she didn’t blame him. If he knew the type of training she’d done over the past year since Dad’s disappearance, he wouldn’t want her anywhere near him or his friends.

  All she could do was take the time to earn his trust and hope it was enough to make up for the things awful she’d thought and done. She held his hands in hers and let him have her gaze so he could see the honesty there when she said, “I swear.”

  The corners of his sexy lips turned up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Truth.”

  “Chance!” Vera called from inside. “Tequila!”

  With a deep, reverberating chuckle, Chance ushered Emily inside with his hand on the small of her back. Layers of clothing separated his touch, but still, her stomach erupted with a fluttering sensation at how close he was. Friends, friends, friends.

  Inside, the Silvers were stripping out of their warm outerwear and yelling greetings across the bar to Dalton and Kate. The coat rack was completely full by the time they headed as a small heard of freaking terri
fying grizzly shifters and mates toward the bar.

  An absent smile lingered on Chance’s lips as he turned and unzipped her jacket, then shoved the warmest of her layers off her shoulders.

  “You’re happy,” she said softly, unable to take her eyes away from that subtle curve on his lips.

  “It feels good to be with my friends. They’re the reason I settle here between tours.”

  “You’re an outdoor guide.”

  “You researched me?”

  “Maybe. Even if I didn’t, Hardware Jack told me all about you and Dalton with little prompting. He even told me about how you and Dalton hunt for the old folks in town who can’t hunt for themselves anymore.”

  Chance shoved Vera’s bright purple glittery winter coat to the side and hooked Emily’s black jacket underneath. “Hardware Jack has a big mouth. We didn’t do that for praise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  With an irritated sigh, Chance muttered, “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

  “Because that’s part of keeping in the town’s good graces?” she asked, confused.

  “Is that really what you think?” he asked, the dimple completely gone now.

  “No, I just don’t understand. I’m sorry. I’m not meaning to make you feel heavy again.” He was making it hard to breathe, and she struggled to inflate her lungs all the way.

  “Heavy,” he repeated, resting his hands on his hips, which somehow made his shoulders look even wider.

  “When you get angry,” she whispered.

  “No, it’s not part of some fucked-up plan to win the town over. Hardware Jack shouldn’t out good deeds done in secret. They don’t mean as much if the giver of the deed is doing it for praise. Does that make sense?”

  “You like to do nice things, but quietly.”

  “If you couldn’t hunt anymore, and someone did something nice for you, how would you feel if the whole town was talking about how someone brought you meat?”

  “I would feel like a charity case,” she murmured, feeling like grit. “I understand now.” Chance and Dalton were secretly good. Not only that, but they were sensitive to the people they helped.

  “You look all mushy,” he accused, eyes narrowed to bright green slits. “Don’t fall in love with me, woman.” He leaned forward and whispered against her ear, “I’m the monster, remember?” His smirk was devilish as he eased away. His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled. “You smell like pheromones.”

  “Poppycock.”

  His blond brows jacked up and humor danced in his eyes. “Poppycock?”

  “You heard me, sir. I am unaffected by you.”

  “Here,” Vera said, handing Emily a shot glass of something clear. Tequila, she’d venture to guess.

  With a giggle, she clinked it against Vera’s shot and downed it. Vera pulled a hilariously disgusted face, then threw her arm over Emily’s shoulder. “We’re going to be friends, okay?”

  “She does this,” Chance said apologetically.

  “I mean it,” Vera said, pulling another pair of shots from the waitress’s full tray. She handed one each to Chance and Emily, then held up her own. “To new boink buddies.”

  “Vera,” Chance warned.

  Her face went bland and her voice monotone. “Fine, to new relationships.”

  “There you go.” Chance took his shot with them, but when he went to put his empty on the tray, he narrowed his eyes at Vera, who was standing there with her index fingers smashed together and making kissing sounds.

  Emily was trying not to laugh, really she was, but Chance looked so irritated and Vera was so funny, and now the infamous little fox shifter was dragging them by the hands to the dance floor as a heavy-beating boy band song came on over the sound system. Elyse grinned from the jukebox and danced toward them, dragging Ian.

  “The whiskey has hit,” Emily admitted, slurring slightly as Chance danced in front of her.

  “And the tequila,” he said, glaring at Vera as the little woman bounced around them chanting, “Boink, boink, boink.”

  “I would apologize for her, but there’s no point,” Tobias yelled over the music.

  “It’s okay!” Emily called, feeling ridiculously happy in the middle of all these dancing, gyrating shifters. Grabbing Vera’s hands, she bounced and chanted right along with her, giggling uncontrollably.

  And now even Chance had lost his grumpy expression and was grinning as he watched her. Surprisingly, he was a good dancer. Good rhythm, masculine on the dance floor, smooth. Vera twirled her twice, then pushed her toward Chance, who caught her and dipped her, then twirled her toward Elyse and Kate. Lena stood a few feet away, taking pictures and laughing from her diaphragm. The next song brought a dance line, and she and Chance did the Egyptian on their turn, and as they stood on opposite sides, clapping and whistling, his eyes didn’t leave her. And she understood. She was trying to figure him out, too. He and Dalton took a turn, dancing like spry little fairies in a meadow, and by the end of it, Emily couldn’t breathe she was laughing so hard.

  God, how long had it been since she had this much fun? Had she ever had this much fun in her life? She couldn’t remember laughing so hard. She couldn’t remember just letting go and acting silly. Not since her best friend had moved to the lower forty-eight her senior year in high school, and that was a long-ass time ago. Uncle Victor would poop a sea creature if he saw her cavorting with the enemy like this. But the more she thought about it, the less she cared. Tonight was for her, not him. The past year had been devoted to his war that he was waging, not her. Tonight she was going to have fun and cut loose like a twenty-six year old should do.

  By the time the fourth song ended, she was three sheets to the wind. Vera handed her another shot, but when Emily gave Chance a worried look, he took action immediately, pointing to a couple making out in the corner. And while Vera was distracted by the couple, Chance stood in front of Emily, blocking Vera’s view of her. Smoothly, he took the glass from Emily’s hands and passed it to a man who was walking past the dance floor.

  Thank you, she mouthed to Chance as Vera pulled her toward the bar.

  “We’re gonna dance,” Vera said, collecting Lena, Kate, and Elyse as she wove through the crowd.

  “We’ve been dancing,” Emily said, scrunching up her nose and attempting to walk straighter.

  “I mean on the bar top.”

  “Oh, no, I’ve never done that.”

  Vera turned abruptly and cupped her cheeks. “I like your hair.”

  Wide-eyed, Emily murmured, “I like your sparkly top.”

  “I like your sparkly smile.”

  Okay. “I like your gold eyes.”

  “I like your lips.” Vera squished Emily’s cheeks between her palms and turned her face toward Chance. “Those are BJ lips. She’d be a good mate.”

  “Vera,” Tobias warned.

  “I would make a really good girlfriend,” Emily said through fish lips. “I’d give, like, ten BJs a day. What’s a BJ?”

  Chance was biting back a smile now, sexy man. “It’s a blow job.”

  Vera cackled and released her cheeks.

  “Oooh,” Emily said as understanding dawned on her. “On your penis.”

  Chance pursed his lips and looked heavenward before he gave her a nod. “Yeeep, on my penis.”

  “I’m gonna dance on the bar top now,” she slurred.

  “I think you should,” Chance said.

  “Don’t be jealous.”

  “Of your moves?”

  “No, of all the boys who will fall in love with me when I do this.”

  “I’ll try to contain myself.”

  “I like your shirt. It’s all tight and sexy, and I can see your muscles.” She poked one of his abs and jammed her finger. It would probably hurt tomorrow when she could feel her body again.

  “Come on, McBJ,” Vera said. “First rule in seducing a man. No compliments. They don’t know what to do with them. Not like we do. Gustave! We’re going to dance!”


  The bartender didn’t even look surprised, as if Vera had done this in his bar before. “Vera, I’ve told you ten times now, my name isn’t Gustave. It’s Kevin. Get on up here.” He ran a rag down the bar top, wiping up the rings of water, then called out, “Drinks off the counter, boys. Shots are a dollar for this song!”

  The bar erupted in cheering and lewd whistles as Vera scrambled onto a barstool and then up onto the counter. Emily helped Kate up, because baby-on-board, and then she scrambled up herself and grinned down at Chance as he steadied her.

  She’d had boyfriends before, but those relationships had ended because she had a tendency to pick controlling men, but could only deal with so much. But Chance was laughing with the others. He maneuvered himself right in front of her, as though he was protective of her and didn’t want her to fall. She liked that he let her do what she wanted. But then, what did that mean? Maybe he wasn’t controlling because she wasn’t his, and he didn’t see her as more than a friend. Pity. She wanted more whiskey kisses.

  The music blared over the sound system, and Vera did a ridiculous little shimmy, her top throwing pink sparkles all over the bar. She spun, did a Michael Jackson crotch grab, then pointed to Emily. Dear goodness, she was doing this, and now people were clapping in rhythm to the beat.

  Waggling her eyebrows at Chance, Emily wiggled her hips, then turned, did a terrible robot, then pointed to Kate beside her. When they hit the chorus, she and the others were dancing together, feeding off each other, some moves sexy, most very un-sexy, but all hilarious as Emily nearly busted her gut laughing.

  A man below her grabbed at her ankle and shoved a dollar bill upward toward the waist of her jeans, but Chance grabbed his hand, gave him a lethal glare, and the man made like a cow and moooved to the other side of the bar.

  After the song was through, Chance gripped her waist with his impossibly strong hands and settled her on her feet in front of him. With a giggle, she melted against his chest. “Did you fall in love with me?”

  The smile dipped from his lips, and with a quick look around, he pulled her toward the exit.