Page 10 of Tangled in Red

Fuck. Something fierce and protective surged through Diablo, making him wish his wolf would choose Brett as their mate. The thought surprised him. He’d never been envious of those in his pack that were mated. Diablo never wanted to be tied down. But the flicker of something raw and vulnerable in Brett’s eyes made him want to take the male home and find out where this could lead.

His beasts had been silent since Brett’s arms had wrapped around him on the bike. No. Since he’d spotted the redhead through the glass of the gift shop this evening. Honestly, Diablo hadn’t considered the possibility of even having a mate since the injection.

“That was...” Brett’s voice trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

Diablo smiled softly, biting his bottom lip in a way that made Brett’s gaze drop to his mouth. “Yeah. It was.” The guy looked thoroughly wrecked. His gaze swept over the smaller man, memorizing the flush across freckled cheeks, red hair tousled from Diablo’s fingers, and the way Brett’s chest rose and fell with quick breaths. How small he looked standing there in Diablo’s shadow yet somehow not diminished by him.

“I should go,” Brett whispered, though he made no move to step away.

“Yeah,” Diablo agreed, equally motionless. “You should.”

Neither moved for a dozen or more heartbeats. Then Brett stepped back, fist gripping his keys. “I’ll call you later?”

The question in his voice made Diablo want to pull him into his arms, keep him close. “You better.”

Brett finally backed toward his car, nearly bumping into the door before fumbling it open. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep both hands on the wheel.”

“Keep your promises too, cariño.”

He nodded, slipping into his car with one last lingering look then gave a small wave before pulling away. Diablo stood watching until the taillights disappeared around a corner, already missing the warmth of Brett’s body against his.

The parking lot felt emptier somehow, colder despite the heat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.

He hadn’t planned on getting this invested.

Hadn’t planned on wanting more than a casual hookup.

Hadn’t planned on missing the guy the second he’d driven away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat on his bike. A text from Brett.

Made it to the first stoplight. Thank you for such a wonderful night!

The corners of Diablo’s mouth lifted, smiling like a complete fool. Pay attention to driving, pajarito. Don’t forget to dream about me.

Tucking the phone away, he kicked the bike to life and took off, heading toward Sin & Steel.

Chapter Three

Brett sat at the traffic light, fingers tracing his lips where Diablo’s kiss still lingered. The night air flowed through his open window, cooling his heated skin as he replayed every moment. The motorcycle vibrating beneath him, fried chicken so good he’d nearly cried, and those large hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

His phone chimed with another text. Reading Diablo’s message made his stomach flutter. Dream about him? As if Brett could dream about anyone else. Diablo had been all he thought about since meeting the guy. It had taken a full two weeks to work up the courage just to call him since Diablo hadn’t called first.

But Brett was glad he’d followed through. Tonight had felt magical under the twinkling stars. The way Diablo smiled at him, his deep, sensual laughter, and how they’d played footsie under the table. Brett hadn’t wanted it to end. Every time he thought of Diablo, his heart raced like crazy. The man’s size should’ve intimidated him, but with Diablo, he felt safe instead. Like nothing in the world could touch him.

A smile played at his lips as the light changed. He sighed, wondering what Diablo was doing at this very moment. Was he thinking about Brett as heavily as Brett was thinking about him?

He was the biggest man Brett had ever dated. Not that they were dating. It was a date, not dating. Huge difference.

As Brett turned onto his street, his smile withered away. His uncle’s battered pickup sat in the driveway alongside three unfamiliar cars. Music thumped from inside the small ranch house, bass-heavy and too loud for a weeknight.

Frank’s poker night. How had he forgotten?

“Great,” he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Frank had company. Which meant Brett would either need to slip in unnoticed or face whatever mood his uncle was in tonight.

Brett drove around the block a couple of times, putting off what he had to face. On his third loop, he finally parked in the driveway, trying to keep some distance from the other cars. He hesitated, hand hovering over the door handle. Maybe he could call someone. Go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

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