Prickly Business Read Free

one.” Chance’s flirty smile wavered before brightening again. Damn.
    Why the hell did Avery have to pick Wolfhound, of all the places in the city, to show up? It was Dylan’s domain. After Avery graduated and moved to Portland from Eugene, they’d run into each other now and again, but Dylan had assured himself he wouldn’t need to worry about checking Wolfhound for his supposed mate. Dylan shook that thought off. Mate . What a joke.
    Throwing a quick glance at the bar, he snorted. Should have known Avery followed the alpha’s son there. Dylan narrowed his eyes, a growl rolling in his chest when Jaden’s hand landed on Avery’s thigh. He quieted down quickly. Avery could do whatever and whoever he wanted. Even Jaden, if that was what he was into. The memory of his mate’s scent hit him as if Avery were standing in front of him. Dylan’s cock twitched and his wolf howled at the knowledge of Avery being so near yet untouchable.
    He grimaced. Get ahold of yourself.
    Dylan was happy with his life the way it was. He didn’t want a mate. He knew what fate had in store for him if he chose that road. One look at his mother and father told him what he’d have to look forward to. Same fate, different mate . Dylan didn’t plan on being stuck in an unwanted mating, much less with a mate who didn’t want him. He was perfectly content with his life the way it was—uncomplicated.
    “Come on.” After glancing once more at the bar, Dylan tugged Chance along to where his crew gathered around the blue-topped pool table at the back of the bar. As they neared, Dylan leaned in close and whispered, “That’s Kirk.” He motioned toward a group of guys, at the small man with a dark halo of hair. Among all his friends, and even the other men at the shop, Kirk was the smaller, quieter, more introspective of the bunch, but his wolf was damn powerful. Next to Dylan, Kirk’s wolf was the strongest, definitely the boldest.
    Dylan pointed. “That’s Sawyer.” He wore the look of a stereotypical biker—long hair, inked sleeves, and a permanent scowl. “Don’t let his broodiness scare you. He’s a big teddy bear.” Sawyer’s unflappable expression didn’t budge as he gave Chance the once-over, then turned his attention elsewhere. To those who didn’t know him, Sawyer was intimidating and standoffish. Dylan had known him for a long time, long enough to know Sawyer preferred it that way.
    “And this guy here”—Dylan detached himself from his date and clapped Lucas on the back—“is Lucas Marshall, my best friend since I was four.”
    Lucas landed a warm smile on Chance, and Dylan watched the kid’s cheeks blaze pink. It was the same effect Lucas had on men and women alike. A couple of inches taller than Dylan, with boyish good looks and perfectly combed golden blond hair, Lucas looked like he’d walked off the pages of GQ and fallen into a leather bar. His muscles stretched the thin cotton of his vintage T-shirt, and all eyes tended to be drawn to the strategically worn holes at the knees, thighs, and, when he turned around, right below the ass of his jeans. On the outside, Lucas wore a mask to enthrall the masses, but Dylan knew the softie on the inside—the one who liked to snuggle under the covers and take long walks on the beach. Okay, maybe he made the last one up. Maybe not.
    Dylan didn’t have to understand it, though. To each his own.
    “Nice to meet you.” Lucas held out his hand in greeting, and when Chance grasped it, Lucas raised Chance’s hand to brush a kiss across the top. Rolling his eyes at his friend, Dylan smiled at Chance’s blushing giggle.
    With a brow quirked, Lucas trained his knowing smirk on Dylan again and winked, then tipped his head toward the bar. Leave it to Lucas. He didn’t miss anything and was about as subtle as a flying brick. “Yes, I know,” Dylan bit out. “And no, we’re not talking about it.”
    Lucas huffed out a laugh and went back to his game, but not before throwing