Claws & Crochet

Part 3

WARNER

The bar smells different.

There's the normal mixture of beer, leather, old wood, motor oil, and the scents of all my pack mates. One of Courtney's friends was liberal with her perfume, but she's hung around The Rabbit Hole before, so I'm used to the smell.

The hint that lurks underneath all those is what catches my attention.

Something sweet and earthy. Like maple syrup tapped directly from the tree.

Doesn't take long to realize what's different about my normal haunt.

She's sitting at the bar.

A few of the other guys notice, too. Every one of them has as good a nose as I do. As we settle in, multiple heads turn toward the stranger.

She keeps her face angled away from us, as if fully focused on her drink. The opposite reaction of Courtney and her two friends. We've barely got our butts in chairs before they're mixing in with us.

The smallest of the group, one with red hair and big blue eyes, focuses on me. Not perfume girl. This one is new, although I've seen her around town.

Not like the woman at the bar.

The redhead's interest is flattering, and another night I might have folded myself into the larger group and flirted with her. But tonight, I want to solve the mystery of the newcomer with the tantalizing scent.

I sidle over to my older brother. Roderick leans against a wall, performing what I am convinced is his favorite activity; emulating the unmoving intimidation of a stone gargoyle.

But even as he holds himself still, I can sense the energy thrumming off him. We're all a little high after our ride. Soaring down the open road on our bikes is almost as good as a full moon run.

Still, as our leader, Roderick would never let his baser nature make him look anything other than an unwavering hard-ass.

"Who's that?" I settle on the wall next to him, a little too close on purpose, my shoulder knocking into his.

He doesn't even wobble.

I'll have to try some other way to set him off balance.

He glances toward the woman at the bar, then shrugs. "Outsider."

"Really? That's your best guess?"

"She's not from here." My brother points out with a judgmental note in his voice. Anyone who isn't a local automatically lands on his shit list.

"Wow. You are a fount of information. Seriously, you should charge money for that kind of insider knowledge."

Roderick growls at me, and I smirk at him before retreating. Normally, his grumpiness wouldn't phase me, but if I piss him off too much, he might decide to kick the stranger out.

Moose owns the bar, but everyone knows who's really in charge.

"Hey, Warner. Why don't you come sit with us?" Courtney has made her way over to me, grinning like she's about to do me a huge favor. "My friend, Missy"—she tilts her chin toward the redhead—"wants to meet you."

"Of course, she does. I'm a charming guy." I offer my cheekiest grin, not making any promises. Courtney and I have been friends since diapers, and at some point, she made it her personal mission to act as my wing-woman. Probably because it exasperates me, which she finds hilarious. "Nice boots by the way. I've always dreamed of wearing a disco ball on my feet."

She returns my smile with a saucy one of her own. "You like? If you ask nicely, maybe I'll make you a pair." She stretches out her toned, tanned leg, letting the little jewels on her boots catch the light. Something in her movement snags the attention of the mystery woman. Her head turns, stare seeking out Courtney's boots.

She's cute.

The woman holds my focus with her dramatically curving cupid bow lip. Probably aware of just how interesting that lip is, she's gone so far as to pierce it. A tiny golden stud, like a beauty mark, makes it hard to convince myself to leave off staring at her mouth.

Everything about her is brown and gold.

Brown eyes. Golden lashes. Brown and golden brows bright against her pale skin.

She's maple syrup poured over a perfectly cooked waffle.

Then she meets my eyes.

Finding me staring at her, she jerks back slightly.

I expect her to blush, maybe duck her head. Or, if she's looking for a good time, give me an inviting smile.

Mystery woman chooses none of the above.

Instead, she stares back, just for a moment, before tightening her mouth in a polite smile. Then, after a shallow nod that seems to say I saw you staring, but we're done with that now, she turns back to her drink.

"Ooo. Denied," Courtney chuckles, having watched the barely existent exchange.

About to retort, I'm distracted when mystery woman reaches into the bag on her lap and pulls out what appears to be a mess of string. She fiddles with it for a moment, finally dislodging a metal implement. Her fingers manipulate the item, until I realize she's making something. Like she's knitting.

In a bar.

A biker bar.

I . . . can't.

I cannot see any reality where I end this night without speaking to a woman who brings crafts to one of the most dangerous places in town.

"I don't give up easily," I murmur, maneuvering around Courtney.

Author note: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this first peek into Warner's mind. So what do you think about his upcoming interaction with Zoey? Is she going to dismiss him again? Flirt? Make friends? Let me know it the comments!