Longing for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 5) (2 page)

The two men at the bar looked over at him. Calder pointed at the brownies questioningly.

They shrugged.

Calder scanned the plate and took one that had been in the corner of the baking pan, so it had two crispy edges, and he sank his teeth in.

Chewy chocolate
heaven
. They were sticky, almost fudgy in the middle, with a satisfying crunch on top. No bullshit, like nuts or peanut butter or mint, either, just pure chocolate brownies, the way God intended. It took him about three seconds to finish it and reach for another, and he’d crammed half of that one into his mouth when the door from the back of the bar opened.

A woman came out and stopped, staring at him. She had brown eyes and dirty blond hair in braids, wrapped around her head in a crown, and held a plate of cookies in each hand.

“Are you
eating
those?” she said, sounding more surprised than angry.

Something
zinged
across Calder’s brain, something quick and electric. He felt an odd twinge of recognition for just a moment, and then it was gone.

He swallowed the brownie, still making eye contact with the girl, half a brownie in his hand.

“No,” he said.

“You’ve got chocolate on your mouth,” she said.

“I brought this brownie in with me?” Calder said, glancing down at the one still in his hand.

The girl wasn’t buying it, and her lips pursed just a hint, a no-nonsense look on her face.

She’s kinda hot when she’s annoyed
, Calder thought, and then blinked.
 

When was the last time he’d thought
that
about someone?

“Look, just don’t eat any
more
, whoever you are,” she said. She set the two plates of cookies behind the bar, where Calder couldn’t reach them, then pointed at the two men drinking at the end. “You either. You said you’d guard those and look what happened.”

“Sorry, Annika,” said one.

“No, you’re not,” she said, rolling her eyes, even though she couldn’t fight a smile. “You wanted to see if I’d yell at a stranger, because you think it’s funny when I’m mad. You,” she said, leveling her finger at Calder. “Eat another one of those before Greta gets out here to sample them and you
will
taste my wrath.”

With that, she was back through the door to the back of the bar.

Calder took another bite of the brownie in his hand, then looked at the plate on the bar. He leaned over the bar to look at the cookies. They were fancy, iced, and looked
delicious
.

“How bad’s her wrath?” he asked the guys at the bar.

One of them held up a hand, palm down, and tilted it side to side: so-so.

Calder was very, very tempted. He felt like she’d awoken something inside him, and even though he didn’t know exactly what, he had the irresistible urge to
provoke
her.

You’re being a child
, he thought.

He leaned over the bar and reached a hand out for a cookie anyway.

“Calder?” came Greta’s voice from the front door.

He turned, and there was his little sister. He grinned.

“Hey,” he said.

“What the hell?” she said, crossing the room toward him. “You couldn’t tell me you were coming, you just show up, four days before I get married?”

Still talking, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest.

“You didn’t even RSVP!” she said, her voice muffled now.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling. “I never actually got an invitation.”

He wanted to say,
I wasn’t sure I was coming until I was here
, but he couldn’t. His reasons for staying away had nothing to do with his sister.

“I sent you
five
,” she said, still squeezing like she was trying to break his ribs. “And that’s no damn excuse, you could have
called
.”

He rested his cheek on the top of her head, his arms around her shoulders, and shrugged.

“I missed you,” she finally said, her voice softer now. “Where have you been?”

Everywhere that wasn’t here
, Calder thought.

“I came from Big Sur this morning,” he told her. “I spent a couple weeks there, and before that I was in Santa Barbara. Before that, I rented this airstream trailer in the desert for a month, outside this town called Twentynine Palms.”

“You told me you were in the desert last time you called,” she said.

“That was New Mexico,” he said. “Two months ago.”

“You should call more.”

“Yeah.”

She released him and stood there, staring up at him. He had a good eight inches on her, but he knew they looked more alike than different: deep blue eyes, wild dark hair. Jawlines that just
looked
stubborn.

“You need a haircut,” she said.

“I was just thinking that,” Calder said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. “Though I think it kinda makes me look rakish.”

Greta snorted, but before she could say anything, the door behind the bar opened again and the girl with the braids was standing there.

Annika
, thought Calder.
That guy called her Annika
.

She put two more plates down behind the bar, already talking.

“Okay,” she said. “That one’s brownies, obviously. Then, from left to right, we’ve got peanut butter thumbprints, mini jam tarts, maple crunch cookies, and shortbread surprises.”

“What’s the surprise?” asked Calder.

Finally, she looked up from the cookies.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, a slow smile spreading across her face. She looked from Calder to Greta and back.

“You should have just said you were her brother,” Annika said. “You could’ve had the brownie.”

“I had two,” Calder admitted.

Annika laughed.

“This is Calder,” Greta said dryly, already reaching for a brownie. “The current biggest pain in my ass. Calder, this is Annika. She’s doing the desserts for the wedding.”

“I guessed,” he said, and leaned across the bar, taking her hand in his and shaking it.

He felt that
spark
again, the tiniest bolt of electricity zipping through his body.

“Hi,” she said. “Don’t let her lie to you, she’s over the moon that you’re here. I’ve heard lots about you.”

“Good things?” he said, finally letting her hand go and taking a peanut butter thumbprint.

“Things,” she said.

Behind him, Greta laughed.

“Thanks for bringing over the samples,” she said. “We’ll conduct a double-blind study and get back to you in a bit.”

“I like these,” Calder said, mouth still full of peanut butter thumbprint. “Though I also liked the brownies.”

“I gotta get back to the bakery,” Annika said. “Nice meeting you, Calder.”

Then she waved and disappeared through the door again. Calder watched it until the latch clicked, and she was really gone.

What was that
, he thought to himself. The fist around his heart was still there, though it wasn’t squeezing quite so tight anymore. Now there was something else, too, something new, like a seed just sprouting for the first time.

Don’t mix your metaphors
, he thought.
 

“Okay,” said Greta. She went behind the bar and put all the plates in a line. The guys drinking at the end paid more attention. “Annika’s making a cake, of course, but we’re also having a selection of cookies put at each table so that the guests don’t have to wait to get cake to start dessert, since that can take forever.”

Calder nodded.

“Annika says she can do three, if we give her enough warning. I’m pretty set on the brownies, but I also want to eat cookies, and I’m not allowed to eat brownies at my wedding, so we need two other things.”

“Why can’t you eat brownies?” Calder asked, frowning.

“Because I paid a lot of money for a white dress, and I don’t want to get chocolate on it,” Greta said.

Makes sense
, Calder thought. Greta had been pragmatic her whole life, so it wasn’t surprising now.

“Is there some kind of rating system?” he asked, picking up a jam thumbprint.

“Pick your two favorites and don’t make fun of me,” Greta said, biting into a maple crunch cookie.

It didn’t take them long to agree on the thumbprints and shortbread surprises — the surprise was a gooey, cinnamon-spiced center, and it was
delicious.
The two guys at the end of the bar agreed, though one made a case for the jam cookies.

“Okay,” said Greta, dusting the plates off into the sink behind the bar. The couple playing pool had helped, as well, and the last brownie had been eaten by a quiet blond guy with an earring who’d come in, gotten a beer, and sat in a booth.

“Will you take these back to Annika and tell her what we decided?”

“Sure,” said Calder, even as his heart clenched.
 

Every time he left the safety of a building, he could run into
him
, he knew. Calder felt desperately unready for that, despite the years between them. He’d thought time would make that particular pain better, but instead it hadn’t helped at all, just driving the spike deeper into his already-delicate heart.

Each year was just another year that he hadn’t contacted Sam, another year that they hadn’t spoken. Another year that Calder hadn’t fixed a goddamn thing with himself or anyone else.

On the other hand, he didn’t mind seeing Annika again. He didn’t mind at all.

“Thanks,” Greta said, and handed him the five plates.

Calder balanced them on one hand as he reached for the door, but it swung in before he could reach it.

In the doorway, backlit by the orange street lamps, stood his former mate.

Chapter Two

Sam

Sam had nearly canceled his date a dozen times before he left work that day. If he didn’t think that Scarlet might murder him, he probably would have.

Walking down the street, sweater over his t-shirt, he smiled. She was right, of course: seven years was a long time, and there were other fish in the sea. Other wolves in the woods, as she put it.

The wolf he was heading to the Tooth & Claw to meet seemed nice enough. They’d chatted a bit through Triangle, the shifter-specific dating app. Scarlet’s sister-in-law worked for them, so she’d hooked him up with a Deluxe account for free.

Greg was the guy’s name. Greg was good-looking enough, and he had a couple of tattoos, said he was into kayaking and woodworking. Sam didn’t feel any particular spark for him, but Scarlet had rather forcefully reminded him that a spark was hard to feel via screen.

So here he was. Going on a date. Before he left the tattoo shop he’d even combed his hair and made sure there was nothing in his teeth. Part of him wanted to be nervous, because that would at least mean that he was interested, but he wasn’t. He was curious at best, if he was being honest.

Outside the Tooth & Claw, Sam looked down at himself, making sure that his fly hadn’t come unzipped and that he hadn’t gotten mustard all over himself. No disasters.
 

Then he pushed the door open, and nearly ran into someone carrying a stack of plates.

Above the plates were two indigo-blue eyes, a shock of wild dark hair, and a couple days’ worth of stubble.

For a moment, Sam thought his heart had stopped in his chest.

Then it roared to life, thundering through his veins. His mind went utterly blank, filled with white noise, everything but his former mate’s face blurry and muffled.

Calder was crystal clear, though. Slowly, it sank through the layers of Sam’s surprise that he was real, that this was real, he was really walking into a bar as Calder Waltz, his former mate, was walking out.
 

Then
he felt like he’d been punched, the wind knocked out of him. Sound and light rushed back in, and some tiny part of Sam became aware that he was just standing there, blocking the doorway.

“Sorry,” Sam said. He pushed the door wider and moved to one side, letting the other man through. It was pure automatic impulse: this is what you do when you nearly hit someone with a door.

“Thanks,” Calder said. He nodded, then walked through the door.

Just like strangers
, Sam thought. He turned to watch Calder through the window but the other man was already gone, and Sam shook his head like he was trying to shake something free.

He looks exactly the same
, Sam thought.
He could have ridden off yesterday.

The sensation passed through him that maybe, somehow, the past seven years had been a long, bad dream, that he was in bed with Calder and Marie. That they were calling his name.

Then he cleared his throat, shut the door carefully, and proceeded to the bar. He felt like he had to order every muscle to move individually, like he couldn’t trust himself to simply walk or order a beer or do anything without strict oversight.

One thing at a time, right now. One muscle at a time, right leg, left leg.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in.

“Sam,” said Greta. She opened her mouth again, then shut it.

“I just ran into him,” he said, saving her the awkwardness.

“Oh,” she said. “He’s here for my wedding. Didn’t tell anyone he was coming, just showed up.”

She glanced at him, the blue-purple gaze that was also Calder’s. It had taken Sam two years to come back to the bar because of it.
I would have warned you if I’d known
, the look said.

“I’m glad he could make it,” Sam said, the phrase sounding stiff even to him. He put his hands on the bar, because that felt like something that people did with their hands.

“Get you something?” Greta asked.

“Surprise me,” Sam said. He didn’t even feel like he could pick a beer.

“How’s it going otherwise?” Greta asked, her eyes flicking over the taps.

What the hell else is there?
Sam thought.

“It’s going well,” he said. “I had to turn down a couple clients this week, actually. Not enough time in the day.”

“Time to raise your prices,” Greta said with a smile. She picked a tap and held a pint glass under it, the amber liquid streaming out.