The Cougar's Trade Read Free Page B

purpose.
    She stood transfixed and confused.
    “Miles, up here,” Hank called out in his usual flat tone.
    That stoic creature was capable of whimsy and softness?
    “Please don’t make me have to escort you every little step of the way. I’m on a really tight schedule today.”
    She sighed. Maybe he was capable. He just wouldn’t be using any of it on her, and she wasn’t going to set herself up for disappointment by expecting it. She wasn’t there for a fairy-tale romance. If anything, she was just biding her time until she could leave.

CHAPTER TWO
    Hank shifted the phone to his other ear and watched Miles bend to adjust the fastener of her hiking sandal. Pink shoes.
Pink
, of all fucking colors
.
He imagined that if
La Bella Dama
watched, she laughed at him. She’d sent him a mate in pearl earrings and pink shoes. What did the goddess expect him to do with such a woman, play bunco?
    Hank considered himself a practical man when it came to most things, whether work-related or personal. He was the kind of man who’d think twice before acting because he considered probabilities and outcomes to every scenario and tried to minimize not only his risk, but the amount of inconvenience the people around him might endure. Apparently, he’d forgotten his mother’s oft-repeated lesson about assumptions.
    As the Cougar glaring’s second-in-command, he had a responsibility to his brother—the alpha—and their brethren. He counseled Mason, watched his back, talked him out of doing stupid shit, and basically acted as the guy’s stunt double. Alpha couldn’t be everywhere at once, and Mason was learning to trust Hank to do what needed to be done. There was a lot to be done. They were in a perpetual state of catch-up. No one could remember when the last time an alpha had had
La Bella Dama
’s blessing, and now that Mason did, many women in the glaring pleaded for more order and structure. Cougar women were naturally distrusting of men. For the past sixty years—as long as a Foye had been alpha—they’d merely tolerated their leaders. Though difficult, they had to trust their enigmatic goddess. She’d said Mason was okay, so the women cut him some slack.
Finally
.
    If “Second” had been merely an honorific, Hank wouldn’t have been so careful about which woman he picked. Any woman would have done, as long as she looked nice and smelled good, too, but the Cougars would expect more from the second’s lady, just like they did of the alpha’s lady. They weren’t decision-makers, not being cats themselves, but they had status. Folks looked to them as examples and knew they had their mates’ ears. He’d assumed the goddess would steer him toward a gutsy broad who could not only put up with
his
shit, but tolerate the Cougar drama with aplomb, as well. That was why he’d thought Hannah had been it.
    Hannah, who’d sooner scratch his eyes out than consent to a courtship, and not the delicate slip of a woman in front of him. But Hannah hadn’t felt right. His inner cat had recoiled when he’d stood near her. It’d taken all he had not to bare his fangs at her.
Nope
, the cat seemed to be saying, and,
Wrong
. Standing near Miles, though, Hank got mental images of him in his cat form, rolling over to present his belly.
    He didn’t know what to make of it, but he knew for damn sure she was the goddess’s choice, and he guessed Sean was equally perplexed with his lot in life at the moment, as well.
    In the doorway, Miles grinned and gave a little wave to someone outside. It was probably a ranch hand. Being cooped up as she’d been during the past month, she wouldn’t recognize any except the few Cougars who worked on Mom’s ranch. Maybe, though, she was one of those women who waved at people she didn’t know because she thought it was nice. Sounded like something a Southerner would do.
    He shook his head.
She’s gonna get chewed up like a necktie dangling into a meat grinder.
    She scrunched her nose and slapped a