Because the second her sweet scent teased my nose, filled my lungs, my wolf took notice.

3

ZOEY

The Wild Rabbit is on the other side of Pine Falls. At least a three-mile walk.

I frown at the map on my phone, its little lines telling me that there’s no way I’ll make it to this week’s Sip ’N’ Stitch.

The bar door creaks open, spilling light out into the quickly darkening parking lot.

“Mystery Girl! Wait up!”

The amber-eyed biker with a handsome smile jogs toward me.

“You walked away before I could ask your name.”

The gravel grinds together under his heavy black boots. Staring up into his face, I decide he’s just a little bit too pretty to be an intimidating biker. His chocolate-brown hair curls softly around his ears and brushes cheekbones that must have been sculpted from pearly marble.

He needs something to grunge him up. Maybe a coat of scruff to hide the charming dimple in his chin. Shaving the shampoo commercial–worthy curls would do it, but anyone who’d suggest such a thing would be doing the world a disservice.

“So, can I have it?” He’s grinning down at me, and I realize I’ve forgotten what he was asking.

“Have what?”

His lips stretch wider. And there, on the side of one canine tooth, sits a slight chip. The little imperfection is strangely endearing.

“Your name,” he says.

“Oh. Sure. I’m Zoey Gunner.” I offer my hand, and he wraps his fingers around mine.

His palm is warm in the cool night air, and I’m not sure I’ve ever had a more comforting handshake.

“Warner Jameson.” He hangs on to me slightly longer than is socially acceptable, but I don’t mind. My fingers get cold easily, and he’s a friendly furnace.

Eventually though, he lets me go.

“You heading over to The Wild Rabbit?”

I shake my head, trying not to frown too hard. Sip ’N’ Stitch was the perfect excuse to get me out of the house. And I screwed it up.

“I won’t make it in time.”

Warner waves that off. “They’re maybe ten minutes down the road. That flyer said it went till nine.”

“Ten minutes if I was driving,” I mutter, doing the math in my head.

It’s already seven thirty. If I hustle, I can probably walk three miles in an hour. Still enough time to introduce myself around and crochet a few rows.

Might be worth it.

“Did you walk here, Zoey?”

“Yes.”

I don’t pay Warner much attention as I stare down the dark road toward town. Time isn’t the biggest problem. I’m not contemplating walking miles through a bustling metropolis. Pine Falls is a small town with nature pushing in on all sides.

“Do you all have issues with wild animals?” I turn back to Warner, glad to have a local on hand.