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.