Bedazzled boots. Now, there’s a project. I file it in the back of my brain for future consideration.

Tearing my gaze away, I accidentally snag it on something even more distracting.

A set of eyes.

Oh no. Unintentional eye contact.

Abort! Abort!

But I can’t. Not right away. Not when I’m staring at a set of irises the same beautiful gold as the liquid in my glass.

Caught as I am in the bourbon stare, for the first time tonight, I start to feel tipsy.

2

WARNER

The bar smells different.

There’s the normal mixture of beer, leather, old wood, motor oil, and the scents of all my pack mates. Courtney and her sparkly boots brought some friends, and one was liberal with her grapefruit perfume. But she’s hung around The Rabbit Hole before, so I’m used to the smell.

The hint that lurks underneath all those is what catches my attention.

Something sweet and earthy. Like maple syrup tapped directly from the tree.

Doesn’t take long to realize what’s different about my normal haunt.

She’s sitting at the bar.

A few of the other guys notice too. Every one of them has as good of a nose as I do. As we settle in, multiple heads turn toward the stranger.

She keeps her face angled away from us, as if fully focused on her drink. The opposite reaction of Courtney and her two friends. We’ve barely got our butts in chairs before they’re mixing in with us.

The smallest of the group, one with red hair and big blue eyes, focuses on me. Not perfume girl. This one is new, although I’ve seen her around town.

Not like the woman at the bar.

The redhead’s interest is flattering, and another night, I might have folded myself into the larger group and flirted with her. But tonight, I want to solve the mystery of the newcomer with the tantalizing scent.

I sidle over to my older brother. Roderick leans against a wall, performing what I am convinced is his favorite activity—emulating the unmoving intimidation of a stone gargoyle.

But even as he holds himself still, I can sense the energy thrumming off him. We’re all a little high after our ride. Soaring down the open road on our bikes is almost as good as a full-moon run.

Still, as our leader, Roderick would never let his baser nature make him look like anything other than an unwavering hard-ass.

“Who’s that?” I settle on the wall next to him, a little too close on purpose, my shoulder knocking into his.

He doesn’t even wobble.

I’ll have to try some other way to set him off-balance.

He glances toward the woman at the bar, then shrugs. “Outsider.”

“Really? That’s your best guess?”