How to Flirt with A Naked Werewolf by Molly Harper Read Free Book Online Page B

I’d own your sorry butt.”
    “Well, I’m going to have to keep coming back until we know for sure.” Alan grinned impishly and winked at me. “I happen to be your closest neighbor. The ranger station is five miles as the crow flies from your place. Anything you need, just let me know.”
    I couldn’t help but return the smile, with more feeling this time. Alan quickly became one of my favorite regular customers, quick with a flirty smile, a compliment, and a generous tip. It was like getting a daily self-esteem booster shot; a conversation with him made me feel good for the rest of the day. Alan generally waited until Evie was too busy with other customers to take his order, meaning I would wait on him. He ordered the same thing every time, a patty melt and a piece of apple-raisin pie, which was a less life-altering experience now that I’d taken over the baking. He sat at the end of the counter, where he could see me in the kitchen. Sometimes, if the dining room was quiet enough, he would talk to me as I worked. They were fluffy, getting-to-know-you conversations about music, movies, hobbies. He seemed to know that I wasn’t ready to discuss much beyond that. Unfortunately, some of the other customers figured out that if you sat at the end of the counter, you could get the new girl’s attention, so Alan ended up jockeying for his position on most days. But it was sort of entertaining to see him show up at 10:30 for lunch.
    I served. I chatted. I earned my living. Every time Mr. Gogan saw me smile at a customer, he seemed so pleased with himself I worried that his face might freeze in an expression of smug exhilaration.
    T HE G LACIER WASN’T open on Sundays, so I had the day off. I seriously considered driving two hours to stock up at the Sam’s Club in Guidry, but I figured the best way to build relationships with my neighbors was to shop local.
    Of course, that was before I saw the $3.65 loaf of wheat bread.
    I was going to have to start baking my own bread again. And possibly milling my own flour. Maybe there were some advantages to being raised by people who didn’t believe in store-bought glutens.
    Hannigan’s looked just like any locally owned grocery store anywhere in the country, except that the prices were higher and there were a lot more products geared toward cooking wild game. I pushed my cart through the store, grabbing ice cream and Sno Balls along with fruit, whole-wheat bagels, peanut butter. Even though I ate most of my meals at the Glacier as part of the “benefits package,” I felt the need to stock up. I had a feeling my first week’s paycheck was going to be used in one shopping trip.
    I turned the cart around the corner, paying more attention to the display of fresh fish than to my steering, and smacked into another cart.
    “You need to do something about your depth perception,” Cooper Graham grumbled from several inches above my head.
    I glanced up at him. Cooper hadn’t been in the Glacier since that fateful day when Buzz experimented with do-it-yourself amputation. Evie said that Cooper was a professional field guide, leading tourist parties of hunters and fishermen through the local hot spots. She said it was normal for him to disappear for days at a time. Still, I deeply resented the way I fruitlessly checked the dining room for him every morning. It didn’t stop me from doing it, but I resented it all the same.
    He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, which were almost hidden by his worn maroon cap. His cheeks were drawn and covered in thick, dark whiskers. I wondered if he’d been sick, if that was what had kept him away from the saloon. But ultimately, I realized it was none of my damn business and it was in my best interest not to care.
    “Are you having a party?” he asked, eyeing the contents of my overloaded cart. He seemed to choke on the words, as if it literally hurt him to have to interact with another human being. How did this man make his living