How to Tame a Werewolf: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 3 Read Free Page A

Buttery Pecan Dreams and more water,” she said.
    “Gotta love a werewolf and their bottomless stomachs,” the plump server murmured while scribbling down their order.
    Rue grinned. The shifters in the room could relate to the comment. The humans would probably think the server had made a joke about Trash Man’s wolfish appearance.
    The werewolf in question leaned back against the vinyl seat, looking pleased. Rue paused to study him. She didn’t need to look at her reflection in the window to know her cheek had started to twitch because of him. This guy absolutely fascinated her. She’d never met any one so expressive. Although wild nearly black hair covered half his face, she knew exactly what he meant to say without words. His expressions were so precise; every emotion seemed to have a corresponding facial gesture.
    In the minutes she’d known him, he’d shown ferocity, derision, hunger, wit, disgust, humor, gratitude, and a variety of smiles indicating everything from teasing to arrogance to straight up humor. Trash Man didn’t have to speak. He knew how to make himself clear through silence.
    Suddenly, Rue really needed to know if he had the ability to speak and, if so, what his voice sounded like.
    “Are you mute?” she asked.
    Rather than nod or shake his head, Trash Man lowered his chin and looked up at her through the thick fringe of his lashes. His heavy although gorgeous brow rippled in an S shape as if to say, “what do you think?”
    “I don’t know,” she answered the unspoken question. “Look, I’ve been calling you Trash Man in my head and that’s just rude.”
    They gazed at each other. Rue broke eye contact first. That funny fluttering low in her belly had sparked and she didn’t know how to handle it. Her friends, if she had any, would say the only thing she ever said about guys was “he doesn’t do anything for me.” Her one and only ex-boyfriend had broken up with her by telling her he felt like a means to an end, like she was using him to get somewhere. David must’ve been right because when he’d left, Rue had done her laundry and played Words with Friends with strangers for the rest of the night. She really hadn’t been bothered.
    Refocusing on the conversation at hand and away from the fluttering in her belly, Rue asked, “What’s your name, sweetie?”
    Trash Man chuffed out a breath accompanied by sparkling amber eyes. Rue easily recognized the combination as a chuckle. He’d done the wordless communication thing again. This time with the barest hint of sound.
    His lips parted and a rumbling squeak came out. It shocked the hell out of both of them. Trash Man’s eyes widened and his gaze shot left and right to make sure no one else had heard the embarrassing noise. Assured his shame had been contained by their booth, he tried again. A hoarse wheeze blended with the squeakiness that happened to teenaged boys ejected from his throat. Actually, Trash Man had too much baritone in his tone to be accused of squeaking, but no matter what Rue labeled the sounds he made, they weren’t intelligible.
    “It’s been a while, huh?” she asked.
    He lifted a brow and had the grace to smirk at himself in good humor.
    “Don’t rush it,” she said, pushing another glass of water to him. His cinnamon rolls and more water arrived. Rue thanked the server and ordered hot tea with honey. By the time she looked back at Trash Man he’d nearly demolished the buns. She didn’t bother hiding her amazement. Feeling her stare on him, Trash Man glanced up at her.
    Rue deadpanned. “Now we know where the expression ‘wolfing down your food’ comes from.” The teasing jibe warmed her face and she quickly swallowed a grin.
    The skin around Trash Man’s eyes crinkled in another eye smile. Rue returned the smile, and without warning, the wolf’s eyes flickered from amber to blue. Holy freak, that blue. She’d only seen that shade in one other place.
    Her gaze dropped to Ian Somers’s picture