He immediately thought of the Native American legends of Coyote, the trickster god, full of mischief, a thief, wily and sneaky. And a shape-shifter. Maybe that’s where the tales had come from, based in part on the truth, just as werewolf tales of old were.
The lady’s hair was a mass of shiny, dark red curls. Her eyes were a clear blue-green, her skin ivory except for a pale smattering of tiny red freckles barely visible across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She was a busty little thing. The sweater was formfitting—the style that showed off a woman’s curves. And she had them in abundance.
He glanced at Bertha. She gave him one of her warmest matchmaking smiles.
Tom barely avoided shaking his head.
“This is Elizabeth Wildwood from Canyon, Texas. Elizabeth, meet Tom Silver.”
“Thank you for taking me to the resort,” Elizabeth said quickly, her expression wary, her heartbeat ratcheting up a couple of notches. She looked as astonished to learn he was a gray wolf as he was to learn what she was. She must not have known Silver Town was wolf-run.
He smelled a tangy scent on her that revealed her concern. If she worried that he intended to hit on her, she needn’t bother. A woman who lived much closer to home would have appealed more.
He let out his breath and said to Elizabeth, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, um, let me wash my hands real quick.” Elizabeth leaped to her feet. Without waiting for him to move out of her way, she brushed past him to get to the kitchen sink.
His gaze lingered on the formfitting black ski pants that revealed her shapely ass and legs. Fur-topped snow boots reached to her knees, and her aqua sweater zipped up to her chin.
The fact she was a shifter sure would be a wolf draw. At least he thought so, as pretty as she was. Bertha raised her brows at him, her smile fixed. Why hadn’t Darien filled him in? Tom had thought she might be a non-shifting human who had lupus garou roots, and that’s why Darien had said she was part wolf. From what Tom understood, wolves were just as attracted to those nonshifters as to full-blooded lupus garous. The eager males might not be put off by Elizabeth’s wolf-coyote heritage.
Elizabeth grabbed a parka off her chair, pulled it on, then snatched up a backpack. He led her to the front door.
“Have fun, you two,” Bertha called out in a much too cheerful manner.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said back sweetly.
Having fun wasn’t what Tom intended. Ensuring the Woodcroft boys stayed out of trouble and that the she-wolf coyote didn’t get herself into a mess would be a job, not a fun excursion.
He glanced back at Bertha and tilted his chin down to give her a disapproving look.
Bertha’s smile only broadened. Tom shook his head.
He held the door open for Elizabeth and tried not to take in her appearance again, but it was difficult not to—being the wolf that he was. She avoided looking at him, which made him believe she was a beta.
That brought his alpha nature to the forefront, protective and in charge.
He shut the door of the B and B, escorted Elizabeth to his pickup truck, and opened the passenger-side door.
She eyed the interior of his truck. “Bertha… well, she said…”
“Yeah?” Tom wondered just what Bertha had said.
Elizabeth cleared her throat.
He waited.
She finally let out her warm cinnamon-scented breath, which misted when it mixed with the icy air, and turned to gaze up at him, her eyes so striking that it was as if he were looking into a crystal clear, blue-green lake. “Bertha said you could hang around to bring me back to the B and B later, but I’ll just take the shuttle.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she got into the vehicle and looked through the windshield as if that was the end of the matter.
“I’m fine with bringing you back here.” He shut the door, then hurried around to the driver’s side.
He didn’t know how he would manage to work ski patrol without thinking of this she-wolf up on the slopes by herself. He could imagine all the bachelor males in their pack hot-wolfing it down the slopes to get her attention, and all the injuries that could result.
Darien was right. Tom would have to become her ski buddy if she stayed on the slopes this afternoon. He wouldn’t leave her on her own until he returned her to the B and B tonight.
She didn’t say anything as he took the road to the Silver Town Ski Resort. “Silver,” she finally said. “Tom Silver.”
“Yeah.”
She eyed him curiously. “Are you the pack leader? And this is a pack-run town?”
He wasn’t surprised she sounded so astonished. Wolf packs didn’t normally run their own towns. He didn’t even know of another like theirs. “Sub-leader. And yeah, our family founded the town. My eldest brother, Darien, runs it.”