“I have an idea. When you have your next gathering, I’ll come to Green Valley and check out the eligible bachelors there,” she said. “Have any good hardy Scots in the bunch?”
Ryan’s mouth opened as if he was going to make a comment, but then he quickly snapped it shut. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel and finally said, “Darien wouldn’t allow it.”
She was a little surprised at his reaction. “Funny, I thought you might be less against it than he would be. I’ve heard that a pack leader who can encourage unmated females to accept bachelors in his pack earns brownie points.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened, and she assumed she’d hit another nerve. But she wasn’t sure why this time, unless someone in his pack might truly be interested in her.
“In fact, I’ll check into Becky and Marilee’s pack while I’m at it. Surely, I’ll find someone I’ll be interested in. Don’t you think?”
Chapter 9
HELL AND DAMNATION. RYAN COULDN’T BELIEVE HOW much the petite blonde could get under his skin. One minute she’s touching his plaid, while he’s wishing he was wearing it right that moment, wondering when she’d ask the question all women asked. Did he wear anything under the kilt? Ha, what God gave him. The next minute, she’s wanting to find a mate in his pack?
How Carol could think the other women were hot and she wasn’t was beyond his comprehension. But the notion that she’d come to his pack and check out some of his bachelor males was unthinkable. Not that it wouldn’t help his standing in the pack. But hell. Seeing her mated to one of his men—not any of whom would be right for her… he couldn’t have it.
Even the notion that she’d check out the other women’s pack didn’t agree with him. Who knew what sort of men were in it? These women weren’t interested in their own bachelors. Why would Carol be? Besides, she was a special case. With special needs, because she was newly turned. She had to have just the right man.
He had no regrets about dancing close to her. He’d thought she might be feeling insecure about the way the other women looked because she’d changed into the clingy silk dress, and he’d wanted her to know she was just as hot an item in the soft pink sweater and jeans she’d worn earlier. He loved comfortable casual.
But he’d never expected her to turn his body into a raging inferno. Even now, he was still at half-mast, partly because of the way she’d danced with him, the heat and fragrance and softness of her body still lingering in his thoughts. And partly because of the way she had caressed his plaid. Envisioning his body wrapped in it and her touching him made him harden even further.
He tried not to frown at her too much as he parked at the Silver Town Tavern, the lot fairly empty. He would speak to Darien about ensuring she didn’t check out the other pack. Or his own.
“Ready?” he asked her as she stared out the window.
She snapped her head around to look at him, her expression startled, and he thought something was wrong.
“Carol?”
She smiled, but the expression was forced. “Sure. Let’s get the interrogation over with. Pronto. I’m sure you have more important business to take care of back home.”
She dropped the smile, and her look turned mutinous. Which appealed a hell of a lot more than when she was giving him a fake smile. Wondering about his own sanity, he shook his head and left the truck to get her door.
Ryan’s question had yanked her out of a vision so fast that it startled Carol, but since he didn’t believe she could see what she could, she hadn’t any plan to enlighten him. Yet given the way he looked at her, she figured he’d question her about it anyway.
“What were you thinking when I drew your attention?” Ryan asked, helping her from his vehicle.
The biting cold… silky red hair floating over her face… male amber eyes narrowed, padded armor, and a tiredness she couldn’t free herself from.
“Carol?” Ryan asked again, his hand firmly on her arm as he guided her toward the tavern.
“Nothing.”
But the look he gave her told her he knew differently. He gave his head a slight shake. But what did she care? He wouldn’t believe she’d had another one of her visions. Anyway. And the meaning of the vision eluded her as before, so what was she supposed to say? Even if he had been more enlightened?
She walked at Ryan’s quickened pace, observing the carved wooden wolves guarding the double doors of the bar. If she’d only known in the beginning what they had signified. Werewolf territory.
Before she’d become a werewolf, Carol had only been in Silver Town’s tavern once during the fall festival when the doors were open to non-members as well as members. She hadn’t realized that to obtain memberships, citizens had to be card-carrying werewolves.
Ryan hurried to get the tavern door for Carol, the rusty hinges squealing as he pushed the heavy oak aside. Rustic fans circulating the air were probably new but looked antique enough to have been hanging from the time the place opened in the nineteenth century.
The smoky mirror behind the long, polished bar definitely had been there from the early days, and the counter was worn in spots where folks leaned against it, drinking their choice of poison. She imagined the shadows of people from long ago reflected in the dingy glass. Silva swore she was going to make Sam replace it with new mirrors, but Sam was a rustic himself and wouldn’t go along with it. Maybe because he was cheap, too.
Amber glass lights hung on brass rods from the high ceiling, casting a soft light over the dark wood tables, some round for smaller groups, some long and rectangular for larger crowds. The place was fairly empty, with just a few older couples enjoying drinks and conversation. The talking died when Ryan and Carol walked inside.
Many of Darien’s pack were still at the gathering. Sam and Silva had returned at some point and were preparing roast beef sandwiches and drinks, the aroma of the roasting beef filling the air. Silva hurried to greet them and directed them to a table in the center of the room surrounded by other tables.
A fishbowl.
“We’d prefer one over here, thanks.” Ryan guided Carol to a table in a corner of the room where it was out of the traffic, half hidden in shadows, quiet, and easier to talk privately. And unavailable.
“This is Darien’s table,” Carol whispered, her heartbeat accelerating, but she had a sneaking suspicion Ryan already knew that.
Silva tapped a pen on an order pad. “Boss man sits here with Lelandi and his brothers. I’ll show you to another table.”
“He’s not coming here tonight,” Ryan told her and pulled out a chair for Carol so self-assuredly that his move fed her own confidence.
His amber eyes steeled, Sam wiped the bar. “Darien might not be here tonight, but his brothers will be, guaranteed. And they also sit there.”
“Not tonight.” Ryan gave him a look that meant he would not be dissuaded. “Darien suggested we come here on our date. So I’m sure he won’t mind if we take the most out-of-the-way, private spot.”
Silva looked at Carol as if hoping she would make Ryan come to his senses. Carol only smiled, figuring what the heck, and took her seat. She’d already done enough to create a scene or two, why not another?
“Yep. I figure capturing Darien’s ribbon today entitles me to a reward.”
Ryan gave her a small nod of approval and pulled his own chair out and sat down.
Sam poured a beer for a man at the bar and inclined his head briefly to Silva, giving his okay. She let out her breath.
“All right. It’s on Sam’s head if Darien shows up expecting his table and finds it occupied. What would you care to drink?”