Curves for the Werewolf Cowboy (Paranormal BBW Erotic Romance, Alpha Wolf Mate) Read Free

I made this big step. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of merlot.
    After sitting back down on the couch and taking a few relaxed sips, I finally felt like I was in the right state of mind to take the plunge. I picked up my cellphone and dialed the numbers rapid-fire, not giving myself a chance to second-guess my decision. I heard the phone ringing on the other end. It was then that I realized I didn’t even know this man’s name. And he didn’t know mine, either.
    “Hello?” said a rough voice on the other end.
    “Hi, it’s, um, Amber,” I said shyly.
    “Who?”
    “Amber. The bartender at the Rattlesnake Tavern. You gave me your number last night.”
    “Hello, Amber. I like that name. I like it a lot, actually.”
    “Thank you. Do you have a name yourself?”
    “Yes, the name’s Clay Riley.”
    “I’ll be honest, Clay. I don’t know why I called you. I don’t have anything much to say right now.”
    “Well, what do you say to dinner tonight? I’ve got a meeting coming up at four, but should be out by six-thirty at the latest. I could pick you up sometime around eight or so.”
    “I—I don’t know. I think I’d feel more comfortable if I maybe met you there or something.”
    “Point taken. Well, where do you want to go?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Anything you pick is fine.”
    “Nahh, I’m not from around here. You’d know better than me. I’ve got to run. Listen, I’m gonna give you my secretary’s number. Call her when you’ve made a decision and she’ll make the reservation.”
    Clay rattled off the secretary’s number and I wrote it down under the number already on the napkin. We said goodbye and he hung up.
    For the next hour or so I searched around on Yelp for places to go for dinner. I knew Houston pretty well, but I figured a businessman like Clay would probably be more interested in something a bit fancier. I finally settled on a steakhouse in north Houston; quality food, but not too pretentious. I dialed up his secretary and asked her to make a reservation for 8:30 PM. That would give a little time to get there early and get settled before he arrived.
    After the reservations were all settled, I spent the next few hours getting ready. I was having the most difficult time deciding what to wear. Nothing seemed to fit well. Normally, I’m a pretty confident girl. I get hit on at the bar all the time, but that was usually just by drunk ranch hands. I was comfortable in jeans and a tank top, but I was a bit wary when it came to dressing up. What made things worse was that for some reason I felt obligated to impress Clay. I wanted him to like me.
    I tried on dress after dress. What I was really doing was trying to hide my curves, or at least highlight the good while hiding the bad ones, but with each dress I felt increasingly self-conscious. I fell back on my bed, already exhausted with the process. I don’t know what I was so worried about. Clay had asked me out, after all. But there was something about him, intriguing, yet intimidating. Is it crazy to say that I was still kind of scared of him? That this was precisely what was driving me toward him?
    I got back up and tried on one last dress, a tight, black number, that against all odds seemed to work. I laughed as relief came over me. At least this aspect of the night was settled. I looked at the clock. It was almost seven. It would take me at least a half hour to get to the restaurant from my apartment. I knew I’d better hop in the shower soon if I planned on getting to the restaurant ahead of Clay.

About forty minutes later I was out the door, keys in hand and a purse dangling over my shoulders. It looked like I’d be putting makeup on in the car. Really, I didn’t need to be in this much of a rush, but my nerves were working overtime; I wanted to get to the restaurant and have a drink at the bar to calm down before Clay got there.
    Traffic was heavier than I expected. I applied my mascara as I stopped at a red