Betting on Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 2) by Roxie Noir Read Free Book Online Page B

glass into the air. Everyone in the bar raised a glass and cheered in response, and luckily, most of them knew the words better than he did.
    Suddenly, the song went quiet, practically the only noise in the bar Houston’s shouting voice, and everyone cracked up. Houston just shrugged. Then Kirsten was at his side, slipping an arm around his waist. Jack joined in on the other side, and Houston put his now-empty glass on the stage and swayed with the two of them, moving back and forth in time with the song’s final few bars.
    A picture of a treble clef flashed on the screen, and it was over. Houston grinned and held his microphone in mock-victory.
    “I made it!” he shouted, and somewhere below him, he heard Kirsten laughing. Then he looked over at the two of them, Kirsten nestled below his arm, Jack’s face hovering above his head.
    “You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Jack shouted, his green eyes sparkling.
    “So do you,” Houston shouted back.
    Then he leaned right over Kirsten’s head and kissed his mate. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so ecstatic, and about what? A kiss on the cheek and singing so badly that he’d probably broken a row of glasses in the back?
    The ladies in the front whistled, and then the DJ announced the next person. Jack grabbed Kirsten’s hand, she grabbed Houston’s, and they walked offstage and back to their booth. As they did, Houston heard the opening strains of something much quieter and slower than what they’d just sung.
    I think we did way better , he thought smugly. We were way louder, at least .
    “More drinks?” he asked.
    “Yes,” said Jack.
    “Water?” asked Kirsten, still breathing hard from singing. Houston had a hard time ignoring the way her chest moved up and down in her dress, but he went to the bar, where the bartender smiled at him and served him first, and at least two women in leather jackets congratulated him on his performance.
    He thanked them politely, took his champagne and water, and went back to the table. Jack had his arm around Kirsten now, and she leaned against him, looking drunk and happy. Houston had to concentrate on not spilling the glasses everywhere, but managed to land them properly on the table, sliding two of them toward Jack and Kirsten.
    “Okay,” he said, trying to gather his thoughts.
    It wasn’t really working. Something in his brain kept misfiring at the sight of his mate and Kirsten together like that, and whatever he was about to say just turned into a warm, gushy feeling deep inside.
    “Okay!” Kirsten said in response, waiting.
    Houston slid into the booth, pressing himself against Kirsten, their faces only inches apart.
    “Okay, no, here goes the toast,” he said, looking from her to the bubbly glass of champagne.
    “We did great!” Jack said. “How’s that?”
    “Yes,” said Houston. “Here’s to us and how great we did. We totally killed whatever that song was.”
    Kirsten threw her head back and laughed, and over her head, Jack and Houston exchanged a glance, then smiled.  
    Usually we’re balls-deep by now, Houston thought. But I’d way, way rather be here, slurring over dumb toasts.
    Weird .
    “Okay,” said Kirsten. “Here’s to divorce parties with happy endings.”
    “I thought we were just getting started,” said Houston.
    He drank anyway.
    “It’s barely midnight,” Kirsten said. “What else have you two got in store?”
    “Room service champagne?” suggested Jack, a familiar glint in his eye. “We splurged on a pretty good suite this year.”
    Beside him, Houston could feel Kirsten stiffen, her glass freezing halfway between her mouth and the table, her big eyes looking up at Jack.
    “Uh,” she said, blinking.
    “Just to hang out,” Jack said, a little lamely.  
    Houston could tell his mate had just said the first thing that had come to mind, the sort of thing he’d usually say.
    “I’d rather stay out,” Kirsten said, her spine still perfectly straight. She