Longing for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 5) by Roxie Noir Read Free Book Online Page A

at least until he came back.
    Until the door of Greta’s bar had opened, and there he was. Sam looked different: a little older, his face a little thinner. His hair had gotten longer and he’d been wearing a sweater. Calder had never known Sam to wear a sweater.
    And then he’d just stood to the side, let Calder walk through. Like they’d never even met.
    Before he’d come to Rustvale, Calder had looked up Sam’s address. He’d known that he shouldn’t, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from finding it, and then from finding it on a map.
    It wasn’t far, Calder knew. Not for a wolf.
    Don’t , he thought. You’re drunk as hell. You’re just going to get there and be an absolute wreck, and you’re going to wake up him and his mates and the kids that they probably have by now.
    Or, worse, it’s going to be just him. And he’s going to invite you in for a drink, and he’s going to be polite. Cordial. He’s going to ask how your travels are going, and he’s going to talk about his job, and then halfway through you’re going to realize that it really is over for him.
    Then what are you going to do, Calder? You’ll still be drunk in the middle of the woods the night before Greta gets married, and then you’re going to be wrecked even worse.
    Calder’s hands started undoing his tie.
    Don’t , he thought. Don’t. Don’t.
    He tossed it to the ground, then took off his jacket, his vest. His button-down shirt. He took off his shoes and socks and put them in a pile on the grass.
    Calder glanced at the restaurant, then took off his white undershirt and pants, quickly folding them into a small package. Then he shifted, the smell of the grass and the woods and the steakhouse sharpening. It was always weird to be drunk as a wolf, but not so bad.
    I just want to see him , he thought. I don’t even care what happens. I want to see him. I want to hear him say my name, for fuck’s sake.
    Calder grabbed his pants and shirt in his mouth and trotted off.

Chapter Five

    Sam
    Sam looked at the pasta burned to the bottom of the pot and sighed. Normally, he was a pretty good cook: nothing fancy, but he was more than able to feed himself well. Last week, he’d successfully made himself a thai curry from scratch. His macaroni and cheese had three kinds of cheese.
    But leave the pasta on the stove for an instant too long, and this happened.
    He grabbed the steel wool and went at it again, scrubbing the stainless steel surface as hard as he could. All night he’d cleaned his kitchen with a vengeance. Partly because he needed to — two nights drinking in front of the TV hadn’t done his stove any favors — and partly because he desperately needed to do something, or he thought he might lose his mind.
    More than anything, he needed Monday to come. Calder would probably be gone again by then, and life could go back to normal. No more worrying that every time the door to his shop opened, it was going to be him.
    He rinsed the burnt pot one more time, splashing water onto his already-paint-splattered t-shirt, and put it upside down on his drying rack. Then he turned the water off and listened.
    Something thumped on his front porch.
    Fucking raccoons , he thought.
    Another thump, another, then a long sliding sound, like the raccoon was dragging something.
    Is it stealing my welcome mat ? Sam thought, and frowned. The noises kept up.
    Annoyed, he wiped his hands off on a towel, then strode to the front door and jerked it open, ready to shout at some critters.
    On the corner of his porch stood Calder, still pulling an undershirt over his head.  
    His eyes met Sam’s. Both of them stopped.  
    Sam felt like he was frozen in time for a moment, like he was staring up into the blue sky of Calder’s eyes, surrounded by the vast heavens.  
    Calder didn’t move. He looked like a deer in the headlights, as though he’d come to Sam’s front porch, and yet, seeing Sam there was a surprise.
    He shifted his weight from one foot to