Longing for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 5) Read Free Page B

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.
    “That’s not a bad idea,” Sam agreed. “I’m almost the only game in town.”
    “It’s you or Paddy’s,” said Greta. She let the tap go carefully and pushed a paper coaster onto the bar, then carefully set his beer on it. “And if you raise prices, everyone who just wants a tattoo and not art will go there. You’ll have more time to do the tattoos you really like doing, and you’ll make the same amount you do now.”
    “Are you a business woman or something?” he asked.
    Greta laughed.
    “It’s Anchor Steam’s hoppy amber ale,” she said.
    “How much?” Sam asked, reaching for his wallet.
    “On the house,” Greta said. “Since you nearly had a heart attack and everything.”
    Sam took a long swallow. It was strong beer. Good.
    “Thanks,” he said. Normally he’d argue, but he didn’t think he had it in him.
    He finally scanned the bar, looking for Greg, who he’d nearly forgotten about.
    “You meeting someone?” Greta asked.
    “I’m on a date,” he admitted, then wished that he hadn’t.
    Why? Because Greta might tell Calder?
    “Good luck,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting out there again.”
    Sam nodded once.
    “Thanks,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was glad about it, but he took his beer and walked to the booth where he’d seen Greg sitting.
    Greg stood up as Sam walked over, his hands in his pockets like he was nervous.
    “You look like Sam,” he said.
    “You must be Greg,” Sam answered.
    There was a beat of silence, and then Sam stuck out his hand. Greg shook it.
    Greg was attractive, and Sam knew it: he was a couple years younger, tall and buff, with a neat beard and a sort of Scandinavian handsomeness. He didn’t feel a thing, though: no rush, no spark of nervousness, no flicker of desire.
    He seems nice , Sam thought. They both slid into the booth and Sam put his hands around his beer, wondering what the hell people did on first dates. Did they talk about their days, tell each other about their