Claws & Crochet

Part 23

WARNER

Roderick continues to study me, and I let him. Suddenly, his head tilts, his nose to the wind, and he breathes in deep. I follow his lead, scenting the air. Almost immediately, I catch the familiar hint of sweet earthiness.

But there's another scent. Another person. Someone who smells like paper and lemons.

Could she be out here with a man?

The thought has my wolf growling, but I stifle the urge before it reaches my throat.

"Juliet is here," Roderick says, climbing off of his bike.

"Juliet?" The name sounds kind of familiar, but it takes me a second of going through my mental tally of Pine Fall residents to remember. "The librarian?"

A silent nod from Roderick as he stares at the woods.

Interesting.

My first instinct is to tease Roderick about his first-name basis situation with the cute woman who is also a recent transplant to our small town. But I keep my big mouth shut with some effort, wary of him ordering me to get back on my bike and continue on to Pine Falls.

Being pack leader is more than a title. There's magic in the designation. I'd have a hard time circumventing his direct order.

Instead, I track the maple trail into the woods and stifle a smile at the sound of my brother following me. He wants to come, but doesn't want to take point?

Even more interesting.

The trail would be hard for a human to see, but my eyes easily pick out the slim dirt path that winds through the trees. I really hope Zoey came this way during daylight. There are a lot of roots looking to twist unaware ankles.

Having grown up in Pine Falls and having spent at least one night a month running wild in these woods, I know exactly where this trail leads. Yellow Pine Lake.

Soon, the humid scent of water intertwines with Zoey's trail.

When I break through the trees, my feet crunch on the rocky shore. There's a calming slap of waves against stone, and the squeak of bats feasting on nighttime bugs. Down the way, I spot the glow of a fire. Feminine laughter drifts toward us, traveling easily over the calm water.

"Guess they're not in trouble," I say, glancing over my shoulder, expecting Roderick to be just a few feet away.

He's not. But he hasn't left either. Instead, I make out his shadowy form, back in the woods. He stands still, looming like a ghostly presence.

"You're being fucking weird."

He doesn't respond, which only proves my point.

I choose to ignore him, making my way down along the beach toward the sound of laughter. When I'm maybe twenty feet away, a warning bark cuts off whatever conversation was happening. Then a massive body trots toward me.

"Hey, buddy. Just me." I murmur, holding out my hand for Bruce to sniff. He does, offering a brief tail wag, then lumbers back to the warm glow of the fire where two women stand, clutching beers and squinting into the darkness.

"Who's there? Show your face!" Zoey steps away from the campfire, approaching the edge of the light. As if I'm enticing her into the darkness.

Not liking that thought, I move forward instead. "Just Warner Jameson. Your friendly neighborhood biker." I put on my most charming smile as I step into the glow of their fire.

Neither woman seems particularly bothered by my sudden appearance. That might have some relation to the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

The redheaded woman, Juliet, lets out a snort at my description. "Friendly. Sure."

"I mean, he's kinda friendly." Zoey offers, facing her companion. There's a thickness to her words, the hint of a slur, that makes me think these two women have been drinking for a little while.

And I'm suddenly fascinated to discover exactly what a drunk Zoey means.

"Oh, really?" Juliet leans back in her camping chair, giving me a thorough once over. "How's he been friendly?"

Zoey holds up her hand, ticking favors off on fingers. "He gave me a ride. Fixed my car. Helped carry some shopping. Invited me to lunch. Leant me a saw." She wiggles her five digits.

"Is he trying to get in your pants?" Juliet's words come out clearer than Zoey's. She throws her can into a paper bag that clanks with the sound of multiple empties, before diving into a large cooler and coming out with another.

Either the librarian holds her booze better than Zoey, or she's just a more articulate drunk.

"Can you come here?" Zoey waves her hand in an overly vigorous motion, enticing me forward. The closer I get, the more of her beautiful, flushed cheeks I see. Her eyes shine in the firelight as they trace over my face, seemingly unable to stay still. "Are you trying to get in my pants?"

Author's note: Ah! The honest speak of a drunk person! 😂 Don't forget that you can read ahead by joining my Ream...