What a Werewolf Wants (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

  “Oh, they’re more than suspicions.”

  Resting her elbows on the table, she turned to him. “Tell me then. What don’t I know?”

  On a burdened exhale, Ryder swiped a champagne flute off the table and clinked his fork against the side. One by one, Mitch’s family and friends turned their attention to him, and the room slowly quieted.

  Tugging on the hem of his shirt, she looked up at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Proving my point. Watch this.” He cleared his throat and addressed the guests. “On behalf of the future Mr. and Mrs. Mitch Oakey, I’d like to thank everyone for coming this afternoon. Mitch is like a brother to me. I’ve known him most of my life. It thrills me to see him so happy.”

  Then why try to sabotage the whole thing?

  “Cheers to the lucky couple.”

  Cameras snapped pictures from the corners of the room—more material for the Channel 10 spot. Glasses rose in unison, creating the perfect moment to capture on film. Mitch called Carrie to his side by crooking his finger. Grinning seductively, he winked, bringing a sweet blush to Carrie’s cheeks. She shrugged shyly and met him with a bear hug.

  Josie could almost feel the heat from the cameras radiating through the restaurant. It was really going to happen. Her special with Martha Silverstone was going to be epic. With two romantics like Mitch and Carrie, nothing would top it.

  “Their connection is undeniable.” Josie stood on tiptoe beside Ryder and bumped him playfully in the shoulder. “How can you think that’s a bad idea?”

  “Because of this.” He raised his glass, and his voice, higher. “May you love as long as you live…and may you always feel as though you can tell each other your deepest, darkest secrets.”

  Mitch’s smile faltered, and his jaw clenched wildly as he stared Ryder down. His dark eyes shadowed until Carrie nuzzled against him, waking him from some kind of trance. Something passed between the two friends. Although she didn’t know Mitch well enough to read his expressions, that glare in his eyes meant shut the hell up.

  He was hiding something.

  And Ryder knew exactly what that was.

  Come hell or high water, she’d find out what she was missing. Before her sister walked down the aisle.

  Chapter Three

  Later that night, Josie raided the filing cabinets in her office. The two mahogany towers were packed to the brim, and needed to be sorted anyway.

  Now was as good a time as any to expose a liar.

  “Mitch Oakey,” she mumbled to herself. “Where are you?”

  There’d been something different about his applications—she remembered clearly—though she couldn’t pinpoint what that thing was. Had it been the paper he’d turned them in on? Could’ve been Ryder’s private investigating stationery. That certainly would’ve caught her eye.

  “That wasn’t it.” Hands on her hips, Josie searched through the piles and piles of manila envelopes spewing their contents onto the floor. “It wasn’t the paper…it wasn’t the answers…what the hell was it?”

  Skimming quickly through hundreds of applications, Josie finally discovered Mitch’s two applications. He’d submitted in June and July of this year. Holding the paper in the palm of her hand, she tested the weight. Same as always. Searched through his answers. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  As the front door to her office opened, Carrie walked in and carried the evening breeze with her. “Josie? What are you doing on the floor?”

  “The smell,” she hollered.

  Carrie’s eyebrows arched high. “Want me to get you an air freshener?”

  “No, the smell of the paper.” She sounded mad, and she knew it. “He either used scented paper or sprayed it with cologne before submitting it.”

  “Gotcha. It does smell in here, though.” Carrie sat on the floor across from her, crossed her legs, and then set her purse in her lap. “Who are we talking about, anyway?”

  Josie sniffed his applications. “Mitch. They don’t smell anymore, though. They lost their scent. I remember there was something more, but I can’t…I can’t place it.”

  “I know we haven’t sealed the deal yet, but I’m fairly certain you can take Mitch out of your system.” She took her iPhone out of her bag and started scrolling. “He’s spoken for.”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Then why are you still looking at his application?”

  It did seem odd.

  But there was no reason to freak Carrie out about what Mitch was hiding until she discovered it for herself. If it was terrible, fine. She’d say something, and they’d figure out where to go from there. But if Ryder was full of crap, and Mitch’s secrets didn’t go any further than his favorite flavor of ice cream and sleeping habits, Carrie wouldn’t be worked up for nothing.

  “Carrie…” She sniffed the paper again, just to be sure the strange aroma wasn’t still there. “Do you know if Mitch snores?”

  Her sister blurted out a laugh and dropped her phone back into her bag. “Of course he does. Every night. Especially when he lies on his back with his mouth open. Haven’t you seen the joke on Facebook about that? When men sleep like that, their balls fall over their—”

  “I don’t want to know about Mitch’s balls.” Josie’s hands flew to her ears. “Please, God, I don’t want to know.”

  “It gives them vapor lock.”

  With a squeal, Josie rolled her eyes. “God, Carr—I said no.”

  She shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

  After a few minutes stacking the papers next to her, Josie said, “So you know that he snores.”

  “It’s not like he can hide it.” Carrie rolled her eyes with a groan. “Though sometimes I wish he could. It’s hard to imagine sleeping next to him every night for the rest of my life. I’ll be deaf by the time I hit forty.”

  The doubt in her words, and her tone, didn’t pass undetected.

  “Lots of people snore,” Josie said, tossing old applications into the garbage. “You could invest in earplugs, or have Mitch go in for treatment to get one of those mask things.”

  “If I wanted to sleep with Darth Vader, I would’ve found someone at a Star Wars convention. No”—she blew out a long sigh—“it’ll be fine. If anything, we have an extra room. I can sleep in there on nights I can’t stand it anymore.”

  Josie hesitated asking the next question as she held Mitch’s application. “If he said he didn’t snore on the application, would that have bothered you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Carrie handed over a few applications that’d gotten away from her in the mad search. “There’s not much that’d bother me. What matters most is that we get along, that he’s slow to anger, and that he treats me like a queen.”

  Thank God.

  She’d never wanted to hug her sister more than this moment. Of course those things were most important. She was stupid to let Ryder’s words poison her thoughts. She set Mitch’s applications on her desk, away from the others, and went to work cleaning up.

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.” Grinning ear to ear, Josie grabbed a large stack of applications and carried them back to the filing station. “Who cares if Mitch snores—other than those really bad nights, like you said—or if he hates the opera? Those things don’t matter in the big scheme of things anyway.”

  Silence met her.

  As she finished filing the papers, she craned her neck around. “Carrie?”

  Her sister’s light eyes were glossy and wide, and the corners of her mouth had downturned. “What do you mean he doesn’t like the opera?”

  “It’s not a big deal.” Josie fidgeted. Stumbled to find the right thing to say. “I guess he said on the application that he loved the opera, but Ryder said Mitch isn’t a fan.” As her sister stared, motionless, Josie rambled on. “Doesn’t mean that’s the case though. Ryder might not know what the hell he’s talking about. Like I said, that’s a small thing. What’s important is how much he loves you, and how great he treats
you.”

  “Yeah.” Now Carrie didn’t seem so sure. “But every Christmas we used to go see La Bohème at the opera house, and it was always such a fun time. We used to have season tickets, remember? It was one of my favorite memories with Mom and Dad.”

  “I know.” Josie’s heart ached. “I remember.”

  “Did Ryder say Mitch refuses go, or that he just doesn’t care for it? Because if it’s not his thing, I might be able to persuade him. But if he downright refuses, that’s another story…I guess. God, Josie, I don’t know. Am I transferring wedding stress to something that isn’t very important?”

  Josie shrugged, feeling smaller than the paper clip sitting on the corner of her desk. “I’m not sure, Carrie, but I’ll go with you if you want. To every single opera. It can still be our new favorite memory. We’ll share it together with our kids when they’re old enough.”

  “Yeah, we could do that.” Carrie nodded, her eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “We could make our own traditions. That might be fun.”

  Hating the opera wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Clearly Carrie had other priorities.

  “Why’d you want me to come by your office tonight, anyway?” Carrie asked, sitting up on her knees. “You never ask me to come out here.”

  Out here. As if Sausalito were some desolate wasteland.

  “I wanted to talk before things got crazy this week. I don’t know that we’re going to have much time alone the next few days.” Josie sat on the edge of her desk, moving Mitch’s applications behind her. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t having…well, you know.”

  “Sex? Of course we are.”

  “God, Carrie, is everything about sex with you?” Josie smacked herself in the forehead and prayed someday to find someone to be just as crazy about. “Doubts. I wanted to make sure you weren’t having any doubts about getting married.”

  Carrie smiled brightly. “I know I’m supposed to be getting cold feet right about now, but I’m telling you, mine are toasty warm. Even though we’ve only known each other eight weeks, it feels like I’ve known him forever.”

  Victory. For the both of them. Soon, Carrie would be happily married, and her business would be the top matchmaking service in Northern California.

  “Do you mean that?” Josie asked, to be sure. “Truly?”

  “Madly, deeply, too,” Carrie teased, reciting the lines from their favorite song. “You really are amazing at what you do here…though I’m not sure how you keep things organized with such a mess.” Carrie stood and assessed the damage, her hands on her hips. “Looks like a tornado tore through here.”

  “As long as I have a strategy that works.”

  “A secret strategy.”

  “It’s not a secret. I just don’t know how to explain it. When I hold two applications, I get a feeling. It’s like…”

  “Cupid is your bitch,” Carrie blurted.

  Josie belted out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “I would.” Carrie winked. “Your television special is going to kick major ass, and I’m going to have a famous sister. I’m proud of you, Smalls.”

  With the weight of the world kicked off her shoulders, Josie dragged her sister into a hug. “Thanks, Care Bear. Oh, and thanks for helping me figure out your wedding gift.”

  Carrie stood back. “Can I know what it is?”

  “Earplugs. So you don’t have to listen to Mr. Vapor Lock anymore.”

  They hadn’t laughed that hard for that long in years.

  Chapter Four

  Six o’clock the next evening came around faster than he’d hoped. Leaning back in his desk chair, Ryder tucked his camera and iPad into his backpack and scanned his desk for anything else he’d need for the stakeout. Binoculars. Notepad. Double-check. All he’d really need was his sniffer, though. With a heightened sense of smell, he could follow Mr. Boone anywhere he went.

  The cheater was supposed to be leaving work in thirty minutes. Tonight was the perfect night to tail him; Mrs. Boone reported that tonight was her husband’s monthly poker night.

  Ryder had called bullshit the second he heard it.

  Cheaters always scheduled rituals with “the guys.” It allowed them the perfect, guaranteed getaway once a week, once a month, whatever, to escape their wives after the event. And since their wives expected the night out, there was rarely any fuss. Those were usually the special dates with the mistress, too, since they could be planned in advance.

  As he stuffed his wallet in the front pocket of the backpack, his phone bleeped with a text.

  Mitch.

  Again.

  Still haven’t said anything to Carrie, it read. What if I tell her and she cancels the wedding?

  With an exasperated sigh, Ryder ran his fingers through his hair. How could Mitch even think about marrying Carrie without revealing his inclination to turn into a wolf at the full moon?

  He texted back: You have to tell her. The closer it gets, the more pressure it puts on both of you.

  He finished packing his bag, waiting for Mitch to respond. Shouldn’t he have been getting ready for the next wedding shindig tonight? Apparently Josie had rented Bluxome Street Winery for a private event: couples painting. The thing started in an hour. Ryder had planned on going late. If Mitch weren’t on the verge of falling to pieces, he wouldn’t have thought about going at all.

  His phone pinged again.

  She slept in the spare room last night. I think she knows something is off.

  Of course something was off. Hiding a secret as big as that would be a kill shot on a relationship.

  You still coming late tonight? Mitch texted again, rapid-fire. I hear you and Josie hit it off. She’ll be there.

  There wasn’t any way to describe his relationship with Josie. Not in a text, anyway. There was definitely fire there. Chemistry unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. Fated mate or not, though, he refused to drag an innocent non-shifter into their world. Besides, the instant she saw him for what he was, she wouldn’t look at him the same way.

  No, it was better, safer, to hold strong to his boundaries.

  Yes, coming late, Ryder texted back. Now let me get back to work.

  As he pocketed his cell, the door to his office flew open. Charity and Josie fell inside, tripping over the threshold. Shock pulsed through him at the intrusion.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. McManus,” Charity blurted, eyes wide, “she wouldn’t wait, and I tried—”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off Josie. She stormed into his office, hips swaying and arms swinging. She looked like a sailor, dressed in dark blue jeans and a light-colored sweater that showcased the bounce of her breasts as she walked.

  “We have to talk,” she said.

  Tell me more about what you could do with that sexy mouth.

  She charged right up to his desk, out of breath and panicked, her hair flying about her face. He fought the urge to reach out and replace a few delicate strands behind her ear.

  “I didn’t think I’d need an appointment for two minutes of your time,” she rattled on, “but your guard dog says otherwise. She’d give Cerberus a run for his money.”

  Scoffing loudly, Charity leaned against the doorframe. Ryder bit back the urge to laugh. Josie really was unafraid to speak her mind. Her confidence was a refreshing change from most of the women who entered his office.

  No way she’d put up with a cheating husband.

  “How’d you find me?” he asked.

  “Doesn’t take a private investigator to look you up. Google worked just fine.” Before he could laugh, she said, “You were right earlier. Mitch put that he likes the opera and doesn’t snore. But so what if he snorts like a warthog all night long? I went over every aspect of his applications, and everything else checks out.” Flinging two pieces of paper onto his desk, she planted her hands on her hips. “Where else did he lie? I’ve gone over and over this thing, Googling him, stalking him on Facebook and Instag
ram, trying to find where he might’ve been deceptive, and…”

  As she rambled, Ryder put his hand up in Charity’s direction. All clear. Bowing out of the room with narrowed, skeptical eyes, his secretary closed the door.

  “Did you sleep last night?” He stood from his desk slowly and moved toward the bar built into the office wall. Her frantic, shifty-eyed gaze followed him the whole way. “Do you want coffee?”

  “Coffee?” She shook her head quickly and snatched the papers off his desk. “No, I don’t want coffee. It’s nearly dark. Aren’t you listening to a thing I’m saying?”

  “I’m listening, but you seem frazzled. I get that way when I’m on stakeout too long and haven’t slept. A strong cup of coffee usually takes the edge off, no matter how late it is in the evening. Besides, if I find myself unable to sleep from the caffeine, I can usually find something worthwhile to pass the time.” He could think of a few things he’d rather be doing right now, actually. Smirking from the naughty thoughts in his head, Ryder filled a cup with coffee and extended it in her direction. “I have scotch under the bar if you prefer something really strong.”

  “No, I don’t want scotch.” She blew strands of silky brown hair out of her face and shot him the sexiest frustrated pout. “I talked to Carrie about the opera and Mitch’s snoring, and she’s fine with it.” Midsentence, she took the coffee from him and sipped. “But that’s not what you meant when you gave that speech at brunch. You meant something different.”

  Yes, he had. But he wasn’t revealing that his best friend was a werewolf. She could stand there until she was blue in the face.

  “What do you want me to say, Josie?” He slid his hands into his pockets. “His business isn’t mine to tell.”

  She charged closer, right up to him. “Yet you have no problem telling Mitch that getting married to the woman he loves is a bad idea. You’re going to ruin everything.”