Chapter 12

"You have an interesting style," Dutch remarked, admiring my maroon palazzo pants, which were wide from top to bottom. My black sleeveless shirt was nothing special, and I hadn't put on any jewelry or perfume after my shower. This wasn't exactly a date, so I didn't want to embarrass myself by overdoing it.

After taking a seat, I handed him a laminated menu so we could order food.

Dutch eyed the alcoholic beverages. "What's the house drink?"

"Devil's Eye, but take my word for it and stick to the bottled drinks."

"You know this place pretty well?"

I smoothed my hand over the table, which had plenty of scratches from bar fights and men showing off their knives. "Howlers is like a second home."

When he arched his eyebrow, it revealed a deep line on his forehead. "A bar is like home?"

"It's not the place that matters but the people you're with."

Melody's uncle Denver was one of the bartenders, and our old packmates came here a lot. I wasn't crazy about the bar scene. I preferred spending my free time at arts festivals or having dessert in a café.

Since it was Sunday evening, there were plenty of empty tables and booths. The jukebox cranked out one rock song after the next, and though a few raucous men were playing pool to the far right, they didn't bother us since our table was close to the bar.

"True that!" Denver shouted from the hall next to the bar. He stripped out of his black work shirt and waved at the other bartender. "See ya tomorrow. I'm outta here." As he passed by, he took a second glance at me and then backed up a step. "Hey, honeypie. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this with a man like that?"

Dutch turned in a way that made me wonder if he was going to get up and start a fight.

"This is Dutch," I said. "He's a shopkeeper in the area, and we're just talking business. Dutch, this is Denver Cole, the bartender here and a friend of mine."

The two men nodded at each other.

Denver rumpled his blond hair and winked. "I'm late, and I hate to keep the little miss waiting."

"Tell everyone hello."

"Will do!" He rushed out the door and did a little spin as someone walked in at the same time.

I turned back to Dutch and wrapped my fingers around my cold glass of tea. "I think you'd like him. I've known Denver my whole life."

Dutch propped his elbows on the table and loosened the top button of his grey shirt. "Do you think I invited you here to talk business?"

"That's what you said earlier."

He moved my glass aside and held my hand. "I just mentioned what we could talk about, and we're done talking business. When a man asks a woman out, it's not because he wants to pick her brain. You have a certain look I find interesting."

I withdrew my hand. "What about intelligence or sensibility? Those aren't desirable traits?"

He shrugged and sat back. "That comes later, if at all. I'm a man who admires beautiful things."

I folded my hands on the table. "Tell me, when one of your diamonds or other pieces has a flaw, does it affect the value?"

"Of course."

"Imperfection increases the value of my stones. It's those discolorations and fractures that make a gemstone truly beautiful because it means there is no other like it in the world. It's not a carbon copy of another."

"But you sell costume jewelry. No offense, but you don't deal in precious gems. Your stones are more ubiquitous, and that makes them worth less."

"Why should one type of stone have more value than another? They're just rocks, Dutch. You can shine them up all you want, but they're rocks. Diamonds sparkle, but they have no character or color."

He reached for my hand and lifted it, looking at the stark contrast between his pale skin and my honey-brown. "I don't mind a little color."

"Am I the flawed diamond?"

"We all have flaws," he said, brushing his lips across my knuckles. After a swift kiss, he let go and sat back. "Do you mind if I ask your ethnicity?"

"I'm a mix of tribes."

I was also part Caucasian on my mother's side, but that invited more questions than I was willing to answer.

He steered his gaze away. "Ah."

His enigmatic reaction piqued my curiosity. "That's all you have to say?"

"I thought maybe Spanish. I'm not familiar with Native American Shifter culture." His blue eyes lit up, and he turned the ring on his finger. "Spain is a marvelous country. It's probably in my top five if I had to list them all."

"You like to travel?"

"Immensely. There's so much beauty out there." Dutch momentarily got lost in his thoughts, and when he returned his attention to me, his eyes were lit with interest. "I'm curious about your animal, but it's rude to ask."

"I don't mind. I'm a proud wolf."

Dutch guzzled his beer and then set down the bottle. "Do you live with a pack or a tribe?"

"Me personally? I'm independent for now. But my people live in both packs and tribes. My father's pack is a blend of cultures, but when you drive out into the country, you'll see more of us living in tribes. I grew up in a pack, so that's the only life I know. What about you?"

He gave a tight-lipped grin. "I'd prefer not to say."

I nodded and looked toward the pool tables. Shouts erupted followed by the sound of pool balls clacking together. It made me wonder if Dutch was a docile animal, such as a deer. I didn't notice any clues in his demeanor, and sometimes herbivores or birds were the least likely to reveal their animal. They believed it put targets on their backs, especially if they had enemies. The bear ring seemed like a ruse, and the style didn't suit him at all.

I wasn't certain what to believe. Dutch certainly didn't strike me as a ferret, though the idea of being able to carry him in my purse tickled me.

"What are you grinning about?" he asked.

That made me smile even wider. "Nothing."

"I'm no pig, but I might be a jackass."

We both chuckled.

But the laughter died in my throat when I glanced up and spotted Tak approaching with a purposeful stride. It caught me so off guard to see him that I sat in stunned disbelief. He wasn't just casually passing by on his way to the exit or even the bathroom; he made direct eye contact and was zeroing in on our table.

Before reaching it, he snagged an empty chair from an adjacent table and dragged it behind him. He then flipped it backward and straddled it in the empty spot to my left.

Dutch gave him a black look. "This is a private conversation. I think you need to move."

"Thinking isn't knowing," Tak pointed out. "Either you think you know something, or you know. I remember you. You're the one who wasn't looking where he was going."

My eyes narrowed. "Tak, what are you doing here?"

Wheeler Cole—another of Mel's uncles—suddenly strode up behind Tak and clapped him on the shoulders. "Is this who you've been going on about for the past two hours?" he said, briefly flicking a glance at me.

I blanched. Not just at the realization that Tak was still in town and at the very bar I'd come to, but that he'd buddied up with someone I knew. Worst of all, they were talking about me! Had Tak told him all about my taking an unfamiliar wolf into my home? Men revealed secrets when intoxicated.

Wheeler grabbed Tak's braid and jerked him out of the chair. "Come on, sweetheart. We need to go for a little walk." Tak was bigger, but you didn't want to mess with Wheeler. If the tattoos all up and down his arms didn't give it away, then his surly attitude did.

Dutch curled his lip and watched them head over to the bar. "So this is where you like to socialize? Maybe we should go somewhere more private. I don't like crowds."

I pretended to listen, but I could hear Wheeler and Tak arguing. Fights in Breed establishments could get you blacklisted, but they were fairly commonplace in Shifter bars. Certain animals were territorial, packs clashed, and Shifters had chips on their shoulders when it came to how the community treated them.

When I glanced back at the bar, Wheeler had Tak in a chokehold, and Tak was holding the pointy tip of a blade to Wheeler's groin.

I launched to my feet. "I'll be right back."

Dutch didn't have time to answer. I was already at the bar.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "The two of you are behaving like children."

They both looked up at me, Tak's face a shade of purple and Wheeler grimacing from the pinch of the blade.

"Christ!" Wheeler let go and jumped back a foot.

Tak stood up straight, and his pocketknife closed with a click. "Do that again, and I'll make your woman a new set of earrings out of your testicles."

Wheeler grabbed a random guy's beer and guzzled it. "Put that on my tab and order him another," he said to the bartender while rubbing his crotch.

Tak placed his hand on my back and led me toward the jukebox. Hopefully Wheeler would leave us alone, but he could be as stubborn as a mule.

"You don't have a pack to watch over you," he said, admonishing me with a glance. "Why are you out alone with another Shifter?"

"Why do you care?"

Dumb question. Tak was an alpha, and that meant he was nosy by nature.

Tak rested his arm on the jukebox. "Do you know what his intentions are? Because if you don't, I can fill you in."

"He runs a shop in the area. It's business."

"It didn't look like business to me when he was kissing your fingers."

Hands clenched in fists at my side, I gave him an indignant look.

"You're right," he said, a sudden bend in his voice. "I have no business in your life. But I care about what happens to you."

"You also asked me out. How would that have been any different?"

He straightened up and squared his shoulders. "Because I wouldn't have brought you to a bar—even if it was your idea. My intentions were honorable."

"What makes you think his aren't? You don't even know Dutch. He's a nice man."

Tak's energy prickled against my skin.

Few things were more seductive than the way an alpha could claim a woman with a single word. Their voice resonates in the most primal area of our brains, compelling us to submit whenever they pushed that power into their voices.

With bated breath, I wondered what that word might be. His lips parted, and he held my gaze, fire simmering in his dark eyes. A current of alpha power lapped against my body like waves to a shore, but he never spoke a word. He never gave me that command.

I moved around him, my hands trembling. "I have to go," I whispered, hurrying away. The effect Tak had on me was like nothing I'd ever known, and it went way beyond the fact he was an alpha wolf. Something about being near him was familiar, magnetic, and intoxicating. It frightened me to think that anyone could have that kind of power over me. And he sensed it too, because he didn't wield his power irresponsibly. Tak could have pressed on and made my wolf submit to his command.

But he hadn't.

As I breezed through the bar, a man rose up from his table and jerked his arm at me. Beer splashed in my face, and I blinked in surprise. My feet rooted in place as I looked down at my wet blouse, my mouth agape.

"Fuck you and your cheap-ass purse," the man snarled.

It took me a second to blink away the alcohol and recognize him as the irate customer who had tried to return a damaged handbag in my store.

A few chair legs scraped against the floor as bystanders rose to their feet, and all I heard before the explosion of violence was Wheeler announcing, "And boom goes the dynamite."