Page 3 of Combust
“Look, Maggie, I’ve been thinking,” he interrupted her. “Maybe you’re not mate material, but I gotta say, youarepretty hot.” He’d been staring at her chest off and on all night. Now he leered openly at her. “How about you come back to my Airbnb and we get to know each other a little better? It could be fun.”
Away from the dense cloud of mingled scents of people, meat, and beer inside the club, she smelled the tang of strong emotions radiating from him.
“What?” She couldn’t believe it.
“Think of it as a second date,” he wheedled. “I’m giving you another chance.”
She could detect his insincerity. Her outrage returned, heating her face in the cold autumn night.
I’m not good enough to be his mate, but I’m good enough to screw?
Any interest she’d had in trying to salvage this date vanished.Jerk!
She began to turn away.
Should she go back inside the club, where Malia and the others would be eagerly waiting for all the juicy details of yet another failed date?
Or should she head home? There, she could slip into her comfy flannel pajamas and try to forget this failure with her subscription to a streaming channel of Christmas movies.
Andrew grabbed her upper arm with bruising strength. He pulled her around to face him.
“Wait a minute. Don’t I even get a goodnight kiss?” He sounded angry rather than flirty or teasing.
Maggie’s pulse jumped with shock. No one had ever tried to manhandle her before.
She shook her head. “No thanks.” That sounded awfully abrupt. No sense riling him up further, so she added, “But it really was nice to meet you. Best of luck finding someone more compatible.”
She tried to pull away.
He didn’t release his hold. “C’mon, Maggie. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings back there, but you insisted. And I thought you could handle the truth.”
She’d thought so, too. And now she didn’t want to discuss this any further. “Please let go of me.”
Andrew scowled. “Hey, I know you’re interested; I could smell it on you when we met,” he said. He pulled her closer, and his tone turned petulant. “Besides, I drove six hours from Spokane to get here. Do you know howmuchgas money I spent? Not to mention the cost of an Airbnb in this no-Starbucks town?”
Behind them, the club’s door opened, spilling a fresh burst of music and light into the parking lot.
Oh, great.Malia’s come to check on me.
Maggie so didnotwant to have this conversation in front of witnesses, and especially not in front of her friend.
The club’s door closed, and the sounds died to a distant murmur and base beats.
“I’m sorry, but you’re right. This isn’t working out.” She placed her free hand on Andrew’s chest and tried to push him away.
He didn’t budge. A sudden worm of cold fear slithered through her gut.
She was a bear shifter, with a bear shifter’s strength. But so was Andrew.
And male bear shifters were built for brawn, the better to protect their mates and clans.
“I said, let go!” she demanded.
* * *
Despite the Friday night crowd at the Hair of the Dog, Cade Hunter found an empty booth tucked away in a back corner of the club. As he chowed down on an excellent steak sandwich and a basket of hot, crisp fries, he studied the locals crowding this place, trying to get a feeling for this new town.
It had been a long, long drive from Amarillo to this little burg in the middle of nowhere. But the job offer had been too great to pass up, so he’d packed up his few belongings and headed north.
