Running with Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 1) (2 page)

“I don’t believe so,” said the one with the beard.

“Not for me,” said the one with the scar.

“Six dollars, even,” she said, her hands on her hips. The bearded one handed her a ten dollar bill and narrowed his eyes.

“Greta, right?” he asked.

Greta stopped and blinked at him. She looked from the bearded one to the light-haired one, then back.

She had absolutely no clue who they were, but he’d said her name like they were old friends, or at least old acquaintances.

“That’s right,” she said, hesitantly.

“I thought that was you,” he said. “It’s been about thirteen years.”

Greta tried frantically to place him, but there was no way she’d ever met this man before, in high school or not. She flipped through her mental address book, but came up totally blank.

She shook her head. “I don’t think I know you,” she said.

“Elliott Whiting,” he said, grinning.

Greta’s mouth dropped open.

“No way,” she said.

“I swear,” he said.

“You got—” she started, and then swallowed the rest of her sentence. She’d been about to say
hot
. “Older!”

“I could say the same for you,” he said.

Greta blushed, then laughed.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said. “But I really didn’t recognize you.”

It was true. The last time she’d seen Elliott Whiting had probably been their high school graduation, when he’d been a tall, skinny, glasses-wearing, bad-haircut-having certified dork.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “I don’t think I was anything to write home about when I was eighteen.”

If I wrote home about you now, it would just be erotica
, Greta thought.

“Anyway, this is Shane, my mate.”

Shane held out one hand, and Greta shook it. He had hard callouses over the whole surface of his palm, his grip was firm-yet-gentle, and he looked straight into her eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear about what a nerd Elliott used to be.”

Greta glanced away, taking in about six different people who wanted drinks.

“If you stick around for a while, it ought to clear out again,” she said. “Then I can fill you in.”

Elliott pretended to make a face, but Shane smiled for the first time.

“I’d love that,” he said.
 

He had dimples.

Tongue-tied for once in her life, Greta turned away to get drinks for all the people demanding her attention, barely noticing that Zeke wasn’t there anymore. Elliott and Shane disappeared into the crowd of people, pulling away from the mobbed bar, and for a few minutes, Greta let her body go on autopilot, taking orders and pouring drinks.

She was the last one to notice the fight.

“The
fuck
did you just say to me?” shouted a voice.

Zeke’s voice.

“Come on, it was a misunderstanding,” said Elliott’s voice.

By now, everyone in the bar turned toward the center, where Zeke and Shane stood, facing each other, Elliott to one side.

“You gonna let your mate handle this for you, Whiting?” asked Zeke, his tone utterly nasty. “Maybe nothing’s changed since high school. Still won’t fight for yourself.”

Zeke shoved Shane right in the chest, pushing the other man back a foot or so.

Shane looked down at the spot where Zeke had shoved him, then looked up at his face.

“Oh
fuck
no,” he said, and lunged at Zeke.

“Hey!” shouted Greta. She ran to the end of the bar and ducked through the gap in the counter. “Take it outside!”

No one was listening to her.

Now Zeke and Shane were on the ground, rolling around, Shane trying his best to land some blows and Zeke trying to get the slightly larger man in a headlock. Elliott tried to separate the two of them, but Zeke landed an elbow in his face, and Elliott’s nose spurted blood

“Quit it!” she hollered at the top of her voice, running toward them.

Then they shifted.

The crowd had been standing around them, mildly interested, but now it was pandemonium. The humans all rushed to the door as the two wolves rolled around the floor of the bar, biting and growling and snapping. The other wolves, still in human form, took a couple steps back, but they weren’t nearly as concerned as the humans.

In the back, by the pool tables, Greta could see the three sorority girls, half-interested and half-terrified, huddled behind the shifters they’d been flirting with.

Then she reached Shane and Zeke, pushing her way through the wall of people surrounding them. Without a second thought, she grabbed each wolf by the scruff of its neck and squeezed as hard as she could.

One of the wolves yelped, and the other was so surprised that it let her pull it away.

“Not in my bar!” she shouted, right into their faces. “Get out. NOW.”

The two wolves growled and snapped at each other, even though Greta had them both half-lying on the floor.

“You’re both about two seconds from being blacklisted from the only wolf bar in Rustvale,” she said, tightening her grip. “If you don’t
fucking
cut it out, I swear to God you’re both banned.”

A low growl emanated from deep in Shane’s chest, and Zeke bared his teeth, but neither of them moved again.

Greta shoved them away from her and stood, surrounded by the tattered piles of their clothing. Both wolves bared their teeth again and stayed a good four feet apart, but they made for the door slowly, growling the whole way.

Sure,
thought Greta.
Now they don’t want to be seen naked. Where was that forethought earlier?

Zeke was the first one through the door, his tail finally disappearing into the night. Shane looked back at the bar, his yellow eyes seeking out Greta.

She folded her arms in front of herself, glowering at him.

He disappeared too, and right away, the bar was humming again.

Everyone was talking about the fight — who’d won, who’d gotten the upper hand, and who the
hell
that new wolf was. Greta ignored it and bent down to pick up their shredded clothing. The sorority girls looked at Greta, either afraid of her or in awe, and Greta felt herself puffing up with pride.

As she reached for Shane’s shredded shirt, her hands brushed Elliott’s, and she realized that he was also trying to clean up after the fight.

“Sorry,” she said, looking up at his face. He held the tattered t-shirt that Shane had been wearing to his face, soaking up the blood.

Elliott just shook his head. “I’m sorry about Shane. He can be... hotheaded.”

Greta blew a strand of curly hair out of her face.

“Tell me about it,” she said. “I do run a wolf bar. It’s kind of what we’re known for.”

He half-smiled. “We don’t have to be complete animals, though.”

She eyed his face. His nose was swelling quickly, and it didn’t look good.

“You want some ice or something?” she asked.

“I’ll just do it when we get home,” he said. “We’re close enough.”

Greta stood up straight and held out a hand for the clothes that Elliott had collected.

“I can go toss ‘em in the dumpster,” she said.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I should go collect him anyway. I’m not sure he knows the way home yet.”

Greta handed them over and looked at the bar that no one was tending.

“So you moved back?”

Elliott nodded. “Bought a house and everything. I got offered a job at...”

He trailed off and swallowed for a moment.

“At a ranch the next county up. I’m managing their thoroughbred program.”

Something just went weird in his face,
Greta thought.

Maybe not. I don’t know him that well, after all. It’s been a long, long time.

“Well, welcome back,” she said. “And tell Shane welcome, if he can control himself in polite society.”

“Will do,” he said, then raised the handful of clothes in a goodbye wave. “Thanks for not blacklisting us just yet. I swear we’ll be better behaved next time.”

Then he turned and walked through the rear exit of the bar.

Next time
, Greta thought. A shiver of excitement worked its way through her body.

Chapter Two

Shane

Still in wolf form, Shane trotted back to where they’d left the car, a few storefronts down from the bar. Everything else on the street was closed, but the Tooth & Claw cast its warm light over most of the block. He trotted back and forth, still feeling jacked up and antsy from the fight, like he was electrified in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

You shouldn’t have gotten into a bar fight your first day in town,
he thought.

He shook his head and trotted back and forth a little more, trying to get the last of his energy out. As he did he raised his snout and sniffed the air: notes of asphalt and popcorn, probably from the movie theater. Gasoline. Beer. Pine trees and the slight scent of dirt carried on the warm wind from the south.

He sniffed again.
Blood
. Zeke had gotten him somewhere. It didn’t hurt, but he could detect the metallic scent in the air.

Shit,
he thought.

He looked at the car, sighed, and sat on the sidewalk.

I hope Elliott gets my keys and wallet out of my pocket,
he thought.
I don’t want to have to show my face there again tomorrow.

Shane looked around the sidewalk. Two people walked down the street on the opposite side, and if they thought it was unusual to see a wolf waiting outside a parked car, they didn’t show it.

Still no sign of his mate as Shane watched the door of the Tooth & Claw intently. Now, the adrenaline rush over, the guilt started gnawing at Shane.

You probably just got Elliott’s nose broken
, he thought.
You don’t deserve him, you know. He could do a lot better
.

The thought of a life without Elliott felt like a knife through the heart, though. Shane put his head on his paws and kept waiting on the cold sidewalk.

At last he saw Elliott’s familiar face coming down the sidewalk, and he perked his ears up, his heart skipping a beat. The same thing that happened every time he saw his mate, no matter what.

Elliott stopped on the sidewalk in front of him, looking down. His nose had stopped bleeding, but now it was swollen and cut across the bridge.

Shane sat up and hung his head, and Elliott crouched down in front of the wolf so that they were eye-to-eye. Then he sighed, leaning his forehead against Shane’s furry one.

“It’s all right,” he said after a long pause. “It’s not broken, just swollen. I’ll be fine.”

Shane licked Elliott’s face in apology, his dog nature getting the better of him for a moment.

“Come on,” Elliott said, standing. “I think there’s still a blanket in the trunk.”

Shane followed his mate behind the car and watched as Elliott grabbed the old fleece blanket and shook it out. It wasn’t the first time that Shane had shifted in public and torn his clothes to pieces, so they came prepared.

He looked around the street quickly and shifted back, wrapping the blanket around himself.

“Thanks,” he said.

Elliot half-smiled, his face looking a little funny with his swollen nose.

“It’s been a while since you needed the emergency nudity blanket,” he said. “You were on a pretty good streak there.”

“I know,” said Shane, squeezing his eyes shut. A breeze blew down the street and he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “I shouldn’t have done anything, I should have just left and taken a walk. Or counted to ten, or done
anything
but punch that guy.”

Now it was Elliott’s turn to look guilty, and he brushed some dirt off of the blanket.

“If you hadn’t, I might have,” he admitted. “Did you hear how he
talked
about Greta?”

“Like she was a fire hydrant he’d claimed by pissing on?” Shane said, feeling the spark of anger in his chest reignite. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“He got what he deserved,” Elliott said, then pointed one finger at Shane. “You didn’t have to be the one to give it to him. But he deserved getting punched right in the face.”

Shane grinned.

“You could look a
little
less pleased,” Elliott teased, closing the trunk. “At least
try
for being sorry.”

Shane rearranged his face into the most serious expression that he could. When Elliott looked at him, he burst out laughing.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Elliott said, and kissed Shane on the mouth. “Come on, get in the car.”

At their kitchen table, Shane sat very still, shirt off, while Elliott squirted saline solution into a gash on his arm from a squeeze bottle.

“Ow,” said Shane.

“He got you pretty good,” Elliott said. “Sorry, I just want to wash it out. No telling where that mouth’s been.”

Shane shook his head, sighing.

“I deserved it,” he said. “That’s what I get for fighting strangers in strange bars. I don’t even
know
Greta.”

His heart did a flip in his chest when he said her name, though.

“If it helps, I didn’t get the impression that she was a fan of it, either,” Elliott said. “Take a deep breath.”

Shane did, and squeezed his eyes shut as Elliott quickly spread his wound wider, shining a flashlight into it. This part always hurt so much more than getting the wounds in the first place.

“You’re good,” Elliott said, letting go. Shane exhaled and looked down. The blood had slowed to a small trickle, mingling with the saline that Elliott had used to clean the gash out. “I’ll just wrap you up and call it a day.”

“Did you talk to her after I left?” Shane asked.

“Not for long,” Elliott said. “You washed your hands, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Squeezed these edges together while I wrap you,” Elliott said.

Shane knew the drill.

“What did she say?”

“Well, she said not to start fights in her bar, for starters,” Elliott said, flicking his gaze to Shane, who made a face. “But she also said that we could come back as long as we didn’t.”

Shane felt a quick thrum in his veins, a surge of hope springing through him.

“Greta’s cute,” he said.

He knew full well that
cute
wasn’t the word he meant. What he
meant
was something like
looking at her makes me feel like my bones are melting
or
I would fight a bar full of drunk grizzlies to talk to her again
, but it was the first word that came to mind.