Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(3)

The man's eyes narrowed to striking green slits. "I'm not looking for a  week-long renter. The ad was supposed to be for something more  permanent. Maybe for someone willing to put some work into this place,  or, I don't know … " He ran his hand up the back of his head and stared  off at the frozen lake behind the other two cabins. "Just take care of  it so I don't have to."

"Oh." Blaire looked around the property with new eyes. There were stacks  of paint buckets on a sheet of plastic on the porch and a bunch of  tools spread out over a porch swing. "Well, I traveled a long way to get  here, and it's paid for. Can I stay this week, and you worry about  getting a long-term renter when I leave?"

"Uuuh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because you're … "

"I'm what?" she asked loudly, utterly frustrated by the men in this weird town.

The man puffed air out his cheeks and leaned his hip against the porch  railing. Fine, he could give her the silent treatment all he wanted.  With a growl, she yanked the giant purple suitcase from the backseat and  bullied it toward the stairs.                       
       
           



       

"What are you doing?"

"I'm"-she yanked the suitcase up two stairs-"moving"-two more stairs,  and she almost fell but saved herself-"in!" She stumbled onto the porch  and settled her suitcase on its wheels.

She had come in hot and nearly ran into Giant Sexypotamus her hand out  for a shake. She blew a red-gold curl out of her face and said, "I'm  Blaire Hayward, nice to meet you." Whoa, he smelled good. She sniffed.  It was some kind of cologne. He still wouldn't take her hand and was  looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. Ridiculous man.

Blaire snatched his limp hand and pumped it a few times. "And your name is?"

"Gentry. Gentry."

"Cool names, but my momma said never trust a man with two first names."

A tiny smirk took his lips as he looked down at their still clasped hands. "No, it's Gentry Striker."

"Your last name is Striker? Your middle name is Badass, isn't it? Or wait! Gentry Chaos Striker. Am I close?"

Gentry removed his hand from hers and almost, almost smiled when he said, "You're an odd one, Blaire Hayward."

There were much worse things he could've said, so she offered him a  prim, "Thank you," and dragged her suitcase across the uneven flooring  toward the door.

"Unless you feel like sleeping in my room, you may want to divert that  big-ass suitcase of yours toward the cabin over there." He pointed to  the smallest one with the newest looking paint that sat across the  parking lot, closest to the frozen lake.

"Right. Is there a key?"

"Nobody locks doors around here."

"Okay then. The paperwork said three meals a day. Shall we eat them in  the big cabin?" she asked innocently. She'd just made that part up.

"Uh, if you like macaroni for every meal, you're welcome to beg food."  That sexy little smirk was back like he knew she was bullcrapping him.

Blaire gave him a coy smile, which probably made her look like a gremlin  because she hadn't flirted in a very long time, and then bounced and  bumped the suitcase down the stairs behind her. She made it  approximately five feet across the snowy parking lot before the luggage  was pulled from her hand and one sexy Gentry Striker went striding by  her, holding the heavy case like it weighed nothing. Hoowee, and he was  strong? His sweater sat right at his hips so she could see his firm butt  moving with each step.

"Are you checking out my ass, Ms. Hayward?" he called, as if he had eyes  in the back of his head. She checked to make sure, but nope, he just  had sexy, mussed hair.

"I would never," she said, then pursed her lips to hide her smile as she followed promptly behind him.

Why was her stomach doing flip-flops? Probably because she hadn't eaten dinner. "Hey, where is a good place to eat around here?"

Gentry cast her a quick, unreadable glance over his shoulder. It was  just a flash of those green eyes, and then he gave her his back again.  "This town closes down pretty early during winter."

"Okay, but there has to be somewhere I can get some dinner. You don't want to see me when I'm hangry," she said in a Hulk voice.

She giggled. He did not.

Gentry led her up a few stairs, across a small porch with a single  rocking chair, and into the cabin. "Look, if you're going to stay here,  you need to stay inside after dark."

"No thanks, I'm here to vacation not be locked up as soon as the sun  goes down. And I'm really hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast."

Gentry made a deep rattling noise in his throat, but cut it off quick  and looked real busy settling her suitcase by the front door. "Tell me  what kind of food you like, and I'll go get it for you." Through gritted  teeth, he said, "It's the least I can do since I'm fresh out of  macaroni."

Blaire's stubbornness warred with her desire to actually see if this big  hunky man would feed her. "I want a chili dog. No! I want a bacon  burger with fries and a side of ranch and extra pickles on the burger.  And a shake. Something pink. Strawberry or cherry."

"Great. I'll be back."

"Money!" She scrambled into her purse as he waited by the door looking  wholly uncomfortable. She gave him a twenty. "Grab something for  yourself too, Chaos."

"That's not my name, and I already ate." He yanked the twenty from her fingertips and made his way out the door.

His sexy scent still lingered so she closed her eyes and inhaled  noisily. And when she sighed happily and opened them again, she was  mortified to find Gentry standing in the doorway.                       
       
           



       

The ghost of that smirk was back. "One side of ranch or two."

Cheeks on fire, she tried to regain her composure as she squeaked out, "Always two."

"You got it Blaire Trouble Hayward." And then Gentry stepped back into the darkening evening.

This time, out the front window, Blaire watched him leave. Gentry jogged  around to the back of the big cabin. A minute later, he pulled an old  brown and white refurbished Ford truck with chains on the tires around  the side and zoomed up the road and out of sight.

Her, trouble? Heck nope, she was still a good girl.

But there was a hundred percent chance that man was trouble with a capital T.





Chapter Three




What the hell was he doing? Gentry stopped at the light and shook his  head for the tenth time since he'd left Hunter Cove. Blaire being in  this town right now was a bad idea for about a dozen reasons.

One: she was human. Fragile. Paper-thin skin, and the single bite of a  werewolf could kill her. Hell, a splinter could kill her. Humans died  too easily, and this town was a steel trap with a hundred razor-sharp  teeth.

Two: she was a fucking human! He shouldn't even be physically attracted  to humans, but here he was, adjusting his hard dick because God, she was  a stunner. It made no sense. Werewolves liked other werewolves. That's  just the way it was. They were genetically predisposed to seek out a  mate who could bear them werewolf pups. Blaire was a genetic dead-end  for his kind. She would have fragile, little human babies only. Down  dick.

Three: he was right in the middle of funeral arrangements for Dad,  pissed as hell, had been forced to put down Tooth and half his damn pack  to survive, was on the verge of a Change constantly, and his dickhole  brothers were slowing everything down by staying MIA. Taking care of a  human on top of the pile other shit he had going on was a horrible idea.  He would slip up. He would get her killed. Or fuck, he could be the one  doing the killing if he didn't rein in his wolf as soon as fuckin'  possible.

Gentry gassed it at the green light and skidded onto Main Street. The tavern would have the food she wanted.

Four: Rhett.

Five: the newly named Bone-Ripper Pack was going through a huge  transition, out from under Dad, who had been a good alpha, to under  Rhett's control. There would be violence.

Six: Rangeley was the home of one of the biggest packs in the world. And  the people who weren't werewolves here were all unsuspecting humans. It  needed to stay that way. Already the wolves walked such a fine line in  this town, and now Blaire had stepped right into the middle of the  chaos.

Seven: the raging boner. Yep, that one got an extra number because it  was really confusing, and Blaire felt like trouble. Big trouble. His  wolf was showing signs of wanting to settle, and he couldn't have that.  And here came this drop-dead gorgeous human woman, red-gold hair  cascading down her shoulders in wild curls like she'd come off some  Scottish moor. Green eyes, but slanted like a cat. Fair skin, almost the  color of the snow, and a light dusting of freckles on her cheeks.  Curves for fuckin' days. Big, soft titties pushing against a little,  white sweater that said she was completely confident with her figure.  Nice ass hugged by tight skinny jeans. That ass was more than a handful,  and his hands were big. He'd wanted to reach out and squeeze it so hard  when she'd pranced past him with her suitcase. And she smelled like  jasmine and honeysuckle. She smelled like spring in the dead of dark  winter.