The Art of Seducing a Naked Werewolf Read Free

sporty—like one of those Porsche coupes. Mo was one of those “shouldn’t be hot but somehow through the combination of interesting features is” girls. She was willowy and tall, with a curly black halo of hair that had grown out to her shoulders while she was pregnant with Eva. I had stick-straight, aggressively brown hair that I never cut. She tried to be nice to everybody, where I never really bothered with that kind of crap. I charged into situations; she actually thought them through . . . which usually meant I got the first swing in.
    Thanks to Mo, my mom was finally able to do all the froufrou girlie bonding shit she wanted to do when I was growing up. You’d think I’d be jealous, but honestly, I was happy for my mom. She’s a smart cookie. She knew that stuff made me miserable and that I would only be suffering through it for her. While Mo actually enjoyed getting her nails done and going shopping for something besides hiking boots.
    Mo cleared her throat and pitched her voice into an intentionally cheerful tone. “Speaking of your brother—”
    “If the next words out of your mouth have anything to do with sex, I can and will hurt you.”
    “Fine,” she said, frowning. “Then the next words out of my mouth will be ‘fire extinguisher.’ “
    I scowled at her, self-consciously rubbing at the crown of my head, where she’d actually once beaned me with a fire extinguisher to break up a tiny altercation between Cooper and me. Total overreaction on her part.
    “Speaking of my brother,” I prompted her, while sending her a mildly threatening glare as Mom opened the front door of our snug house on the outskirts of the village.
    Mo and I stepped through the door as Mom strode into the kitchen to make tea. That was what she did when she was angry . . . or upset . . . or happy. Really, she was an all-occasion tea drinker.
    I pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, wondering how long I would be apologizing for this latest misstep.
    “Cooper wanted to know if you could drop by the Glacier in the morning.”
    “Why not the house?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
    “Well, there’s someone he wants you to meet, or at least see.”
    I groaned at Mo. “Mo, please tell me he isn’t going to try to set me up on some lame blind date.”
    “Not quite. There’s a guy who’s been coming around the saloon asking questions about the attacks last year. Cooper thinks he’s some sort of investigator. Nicholas Thatcher, PhDs. As in, he has more than one. He’s not your typical Paranormal State wacko. There’s not a dowsing crystal in sight. He seems to be doing actual scientific research. Since you’re alpha, Cooper wants you to come by and get a look at him, see what you think.”
    I quirked my lips at her. “That was low.”
    She grinned at me. I was the youngest leader in our pack’s history and eager to prove my mettle. I’d inherited the job under less than ideal circumstances from our previous alpha, creepy-ass—and by no coincidence thoroughly dead—Eli, who took over the job for my self-exiled brother.
    It’s a long story.
    I took my job as pack leader seriously, and Mo knew the best way to get to me was to appeal to my position. She could be a conniving, sneaky wench, our Mo . . . hence my being the tiniest bit fond of her.
    “Why the big discussion? Let’s just get rid of him. Run him back to the lower forty-eight. Or we could go with a slightly less pleasant, but bloody and satisfying, second option.”
    “Cooper and I think you should meet him before you jump to any conclusions.”
    “Fine, I’ll meet him, and then maybe his tires develop problems while he’s in the saloon, and he ends up careening into a ditch, never to be heard from again.”
    “You’re a werewolf, not a hit man.”
    “It’ll look like an accident.”
    My mother shot me a sharp look, snatching the kettle from the stove with a clatter. “How many family conversations are going to be interrupted by me telling