Page 13 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

Wrapped up just for me.

And I think I might actually be drooling.

“Here you go,” she says, setting the beer in front of me.

I force myself to meet her gaze. “Thanks.”

I open my mouth, desperate to say something, anything to make her stay.

But she’s already gone, moving down the bar, tending to the next customer like I’m nothing more than another guy in a seat.

It’s gonna be a long night. I know that already.

I should leave her to it.

But I can’t. I won’t.

I hear the asshole at the table behind me, running his mouth about her to his buddies.

Then I scent them.

Shit.

These fucking cowboys aren’t just drunken idiots looking to cause a scene.

They’re Shifters.

Something feline.

The musk of predator and arrogance curls in the air, a sharp contrast to the booze and greasy food.

Cougars, maybe? Jaguars?

Doesn’t matter. What matters is there are four of them and one of me.

But I’m big.

I’m tough.

I’m mean.

I’ve fought worse odds before. Hell, I lived worse odds.

Only now, I don’t have to.

Because I have something I never had before.

A Crew.

I take a slow pull of my beer, my muscles loose, my expression easy. Then I reach for my phone, dialing the only other unmated male at Motley Crewd Ranch.

The line picks up after one ring.

“How the fuck did you get my number?” Zeke snarls, his voice laced with something inhuman.

I wince at the deep, guttural sound.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” I smirk, baiting him because I can. “I know you’re part of our friendship text circle.”

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