Daddy Wolves: Silver Wolves MC Box Set

by Sky Winters

  “I don’t know when that will be. I have a good bit going on. You are welcome to stop by here. I can give you the address.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I’m not thinking. That would be inappropriate. Listen, I’ll be at the library tomorrow to return some books and do a bit of research. Perhaps you could stop by and we could sit down for a bit?”

  Grant chastised himself for even suggesting she meet him alone at his place. It made perfect sense that she would be wary of coming to a man’s home alone. It almost made him smile, how sweet and innocent she was. In another situation, he could easily find himself attracted to her, but he had to stay focused. He couldn’t afford to let some sweet young thing tug at his heartstrings, no matter how attractive he found her to be.

  “I think I can manage that. What time?” she asked.

  “About 2 p.m. would be good for me if you are available.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you there.”

  “See you there. You have my number if anything comes up.”

  “Sure do,” she told him. “You want mine?”

  “I have it on the caller ID. I’ll save it to my contacts.”

  “Yeah. Silly of me. Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  “You will.”

  Grant hung up, even though he could tell she was still on the line trying to decide if she should say anything further. There would be plenty of time for niceties tomorrow. He smiled as he walked away. It was taking a little time to find an “in” but the plan was working. All he had to do was win her over and she’d bring Aspen Lowery around. Even the baddest biker was always a sucker for what his little girl wanted, and Elizabeth was as close to a daughter as he would ever have. She was the only daughter any of them would ever have.

  Chapter 7

  It was ten past two and Grant sat in the small alcove near the art history section of the Rio Lobos Public Library. He flipped idly through an oversize book on renaissance art and waited for Elizabeth to arrive. He tried not to fidget, a bit of unwelcome anxiety creeping in. It was an old habit, one from another lifetime. These days, he was mostly numb, but there was the odd time that he found himself out of sorts.

  “Oh, good. You are still here. Sorry to be late,” he heard a light voice say from behind him.

  “No problem. I haven’t been here very long,” he told her, standing to greet her.

  She sat down at the corner to one side of him and leaned down to open a messenger bag she had dropped on the floor beside her. Grant watched a wave of long blonde hair fall forward, covering her face for a moment and obscuring it from his view. Well, it wasn’t quite blonde. Instead it was a melody of shades ranging from a very pale yellow to a honey color. It was the shade of hair women got from being out in the sun and letting it streak naturally. Many a woman tried to achieve it from a box, but never quite pulled it off so perfectly as the real deal.

  She sighed and looked up at him, laying a large scrap book of some sort on the table in front of her. He could tell that she was nervous, but he also noticed something else. She was beautiful. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed before, but this was the first time he had ever been in such close quarters with her. A blush spread up her cheeks as if she realized he was checking her out and he silently chastised himself.

  Imagine it, he had been with hundreds of women across this country and some of other continents, but he couldn’t remember being so instantly awe struck by any of them as he found himself in this moment with her looking up at him, drawing him in with her alabaster skin, big blue eyes and full pink lips. What he wouldn’t give to kiss them right here and now.

  Shaking it off, he tried to refocus on why they were here. For her, it was to have him critique her work. For him . . . Well, it was something that he was rapidly finding himself ashamed of doing. Looking into her open and honest face made him feel even more horrible. It was if he had gotten an instant glimpse into her very core and gotten lost in there. Now, he was struggling to distance himself from her immediate effect. This was going to be much harder than anticipated.

  “Grant?” she said.

  He realized that she had said something before, but he had been too absorbed in his thoughts to comprehend it.

  “Oh, sorry. Was lost in thought for a moment. What did you say?” he asked.

  She smiled. It was breathtaking. There was no mistaking that the attraction was mutual as her lashes dropped and she bit on her lower lip before speaking again. Opening the book in front of her, she slid it toward him, her hand brushing against his bare arm as she did so. It was like grabbing the naked wires of a compromised power cord and getting a shock of electricity that set his entire body tingling. Every bit of the energy conveyed detonated squarely in his groin.

  Seriously, Grant. What the fuck is wrong with you. Snap out of it!

  Thank god his lap was concealed beneath the table. She looked too flustered already without getting a glimpse of him getting a hard on. The last thing he needed for her to think was that he was some sort of sexual deviant rather than a trusted friend that she might want to one day bring home to dear old dad.

  “I asked if you were ready to look at my photos? I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but I . . . Uh, I don’t have a lot of time before I have to get back home.”

  Grant realized she had come here alone. Most likely, she had snuck out to meet him. Otherwise, there would have been several of the big hairy biker dogs standing around cracking their knuckles like bouncers at a dive bar.

  “We can look at them now,” he told her.

  They settled in to looking through the photos of her work. There were several in the book that he hadn’t seen in the clubhouse first hand. Though he was far from the expert he claimed to be, he did know a bit about fine art and her work was fantastic. He marveled that she was not only beautiful, but talented as well. Her brilliance came across even further in her manner of speech, as she was both articulate and seemed well educated. When they were done, she glanced at her watch and smiled at him in a way that just made him want to kiss her again.

  “Thank you so much for this, Grant,” she told him. “I hate to rush off, but I’ve already been here too long. Will you be at the coffee shop again soon?”

  “Of course,” he told her, standing as she put her book back in her messenger bag and rose to leave.

  “Good. I really enjoyed seeing you there,” she told him.

  Standing here looking at her, he found himself appreciating her wonderfully curvaceous figure. Sleek leather leggings hugged her long, slender legs, the smooth curvature of her hips tapering off into a tiny waist. Her breasts were the perfect size, not overly large but ample enough to strain at the skintight t-shirt she wore. The v necked front allowed just the tiniest glimpse of a most delicious cleavage. He was completely aware that he was gawking until he glanced upward to see that she was blushing, once again.

  It was refreshing in a way that he couldn’t describe. There weren’t many women out there that blushed like that these days. He had grown accustomed to women that were all too forward with their sexual prowess, not that there was anything wrong with that, but there was something special about a bit of a challenge. He found himself wondering if Elizabeth was a virgin, a thought that only spiraled downward into thoughts about how much he’d love to be the one to take her for the first time.

  “Yeah. Um, I really enjoy seeing you there too,” he finally replied, forcing himself to get a grip.

  She turned to walk away after a final goodbye, but then stopped and turned. Grant wondered if she had caught him admiring her perfect backside and thigh gap before he had realizing she was turning back. The flushed cheeks that she wore told him that she had, and he kicked himself again. He really was going to come across as a pervert if he didn’t get a grip on himself. Damn, it was killing him how much he already wanted her.

  “Grant, if you don’t mind, can we not mention to my mother that we met here today?”

  “Uh,
sure. She would mind?”

  “I just like to keep some things personal.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you soon then,” she told him, turning again to leave.

  Grant watched her walk away. This had gone well, mostly. She was willing to sneak around behind the parents’ backs so that gave him a chance to get to know her without them. It was obvious that she was attracted to him. The problem was that he was attracted to her on a level he hadn’t expected and that could be a problem if he didn’t keep himself in check.

  This had been their first clandestine meeting and he already found himself wanting to yank her to him and push her against the nearest wall of books and kiss her until he could not longer tell where he ended, and she began. He wanted to hear her panting breathlessly as he ravaged her neck and slipped her shirt over her head to kiss those perfect breasts that had been hugging it so tightly only moments before. When she was ready for him, he’d slip those leggings from her and flip her around, taking her from behind so he could admire her glorious asscheeks while kneading and twisting her hardened pink nipples.

  Fuck me. I’ve got to get out of this library and find something else to think about.

  Grant walked back to the table and retrieved his jacket, slipping it on to cover up his hard on before leaving for home. Of course, despite his self reproach, he could only think of one thing all the way home - Elizabeth Lowery.

  Chapter 8

  “We’ll be at the coffee shop tomorrow,” she told him on the phone two days later.

  Grant hadn’t made any attempt to contact her. He needed this to be “her” idea. More importantly, he needed the time to get his shit together. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up because his libido was getting the best of him. There was a lot more at stake. Saul would have his corpse on a spit at the doors to the club if he made a stupid mistake.

  “I will try to stop by,” he said, knowing he would be there because he needed to be, but he didn’t want her to think he was too eager.

  “I hope you do. I’ve got to go,” she said, ending the call while he was still saying goodbye.

  Ordinarily, he would think it rude, but he knew she was probably just trying to make the call without being heard and perhaps got interrupted or thought she might be at any moment. He was just glad that she wasn’t so timid that she was afraid to cross the big, bad Aspen Lowery. Obviously, she was an adult now, but in their circles, that didn’t mean you were free. Having him as a dirty little secret was a risk to the entire club and she would be careful, but hopefully not too careful. There was no such thing as truly being free if you were a part of a pack that was under threat.

  No, the only way for her to truly be free was to walk away and that would most likely never happen. From the history he had dug up on her, she had nowhere else to go. She might be human and, unlike the other humans in the pack, no one’s mate - but they were the only family she had known for a long time. Without Aspen, her outcome might have been very different, and she wouldn’t forget that or do anything she thought might bring harm to the pack.

  However, she was also a young woman coming into her own and that would be where she let her guard down. The attention of a handsome stranger was flattering, a little dangerous. By the time anyone knew his true motives, he would have what he needed and be safely back in his own pack.

  The following day he made his way down to the coffee shop at the usual time and ordered coffee, along with a hearty breakfast. He’d been mostly eating oatmeal or cereal at the cabin and the fresh ham, eggs and toast was a welcome change. One of these days, he would have to learn to cook. He began reading a newspaper he had picked up on the way. Now, that he had been successful in attracting the attention he needed, there was no need to keep bringing the art books every time. Of course, it was a change that Amanda Lowery didn’t miss.

  “No art history today?” she asked.

  “Not today. Are you interested in art?” he asked, causing Elizabeth to smile sheepishly as she sat down at their usual table across the narrow aisle from him.

  “I used to be. I’ve got a lot of other things on my plate right now, but maybe I’ll get back to it one day soon,” she said.

  Grant couldn’t help but notice that Amanda said nothing about Elizabeth’s abilities. It was an obvious omission. She wouldn’t want to create a base for dialog between the two of them. Grant almost smiled at the thought of how protective she was of her daughter. It was nice to have someone look out for you. He had lost that a long time ago, had become a lone wolf in every sense of the word. He shut down any further thought on the matter. It didn’t serve him to go down memory lane or wax poetic about the family unit of the Lowerys.

  “I’m sorry. I am holding you up. I will let you get back to it,” he said, returning to his paper as she sat down and the waitress came over to take their order.

  The three of them sat there, the biker bouncer dogs standing watchfully outside the entrance to the shop. There was no further conversation between the three of them, but he caught Elizabeth glancing in his direction several times and looking bashfully away when she caught him returning her gaze. It was a coy little game that only furthered his cause, but he had to find a way to get closer to her and get inside the club a bit quicker. She was too tempting, and he needed to be making more progress before his next conversation with Saul, who would be chomping at the bit for more intel than what kind of coffee the Lowery women drank.

  After a while, he paid his check and got up to leave. He winked at Elizabeth while Amanda was not paying attention and then said a polite goodbye to the both of them before making his exit past the neckless bastards lurking around the entrance. Back at home, he considered what he could do to speed up getting close to Elizabeth.

  “Dumbass,” he muttered to himself as he reached for his phone.

  Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He had never been much for texting. It was much nicer to hear a voice on the other end of the line and you weren’t sitting there waiting on a reply for hours when you had someone at your disposal during a call. Still, it was something common with most people and he was guessing that included Elizabeth Lowery. He slid his screen open and began typing a message.

  “Is it okay to text?”

  He lay the phone down and waited for a response, but didn’t have to wait long.

  “Yes. I’m glad you did.”

  “Oh, you are right there. I just wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful today at lunch.”

  “Did I? I didn’t think you had noticed. Thank you.”

  “Well, you know. I get the impression that you don’t want your mother or those goons that seem to follow you around to know you know me beyond casual coffee shop meetings.”

  A few minutes passed before the next text came through. He could only assume she was interrupted by someone she didn’t want to see her texting.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just best this way. We, um, well . . . I just have to be careful who I talk to. I can’t trust just anyone,” she finally replied.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I think so. I mean, I still don’t know you very well, but you seem okay.”

  “Just okay?” he asked, fishing.

  “Maybe a bit more than okay.”

  Grant could almost imagine her expression even from here. She would be smiling, those big blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Thoughts of holding her flooded his mind again and he decided not to push it any further.

  “Glad to hear that. I’ve got work to do. Chat tomorrow?”

  “Yes! Will text you when I’m alone.”

  “Sounds good. Talk to you tomorrow then, Elizabeth.”

  “Tomorrow . . .”

  Grant lay the phone on the counter and made his way to the bedroom. He had lied about having work to do. The truth was that he hadn’t been sleeping well and had been going out for a run in the middle of the night for the last few days. It wasn’t exactly safe for him to shift and run here, but it helped him wind d
own and tire himself out, so he could get some sleep. Problem was that by the time he returned, showered and lay down again, it was time to get back up. Despite his adopted persona as an art collector, his actual work was far less glamorous.

  The Dire Wolves paid him to do research. They kept tabs on far more than just the Silver Wolves and since he had joined them, he had become their point person for collecting the data they needed to keep their enemies in their place. His job was to act as a very low profile private investigator. The people he tailed would never see him or talk to him, but he was involved in all their personal business and kept immaculate records on each one of them. It could be exhausting, but missing even the smallest thing, in some cases, could create much bigger problems for the pack.

  Today, though, it was going to have to be put on hold while he took a much-needed nap. He chuckled a bit at the idea that a tough alpha wolf needed to take an afternoon nap, but fuck, he was tired. His head had no more than hit the pillow when he dozed off into peaceful slumber.

  Chapter 9

  Thoughts of Elizabeth filled his head as he drifted off to sleep. He could see her standing before him, looking at him with her long flaxen hair and seductive blue eyes. Her full lips parted as she licked her lips, walking toward him. In his dream, the weather had shifted. It was no longer winter, but the dead heat of summer. She wore a thin white sun dress, her nipples pressing against the gauze like cloth as she made her way barefoot along the path toward him.

  “Like what you see, Grant?” she purred at him as she moved closer to him.

  “I do.”

  “I want to see you,” she replied. “Take off your shirt.”

  Without hesitating, Grant pulled his tee-shirt over his head, his biceps flexing powerfully. Elizabeth’s gaze fell upon his chest and the scars that criss crossed at odd angles to one another, some extending around his sides and down his abdomen. They looked as if he had gotten caught in a heavy thicket and had to push his way out, stripping away flesh in stripes, but they were much heavier, deeper. Thick ridges formed each one.