of violence or crime were rare here, but when it happened, he handled it.
He’d taken over the position after his father and mother were killed in a car accident a year ago. Someday, he might have a son who would take over the responsibility. A shot of yearning went through him. It was harder to suppress than it used to be, the longing for a family.. Every bear went through it, or so he’d been told, this driving need to settle down with a mate. Once his thirtieth birthday came and went, so would the urge. He might still find a woman to love, but she’d never have his children.
“There isn’t a huge selection of eligible human women around here,” Trey heard himself say. He groaned. Why the hell had he just encouraged this conversation? Xander finished his own water and crumpled the bottle in his hand.
“I’ve already got that covered.”
“I can’t wait to hear this.” Trey nodded toward the house and they headed that way. His boots kicked up dust from the dirt path and he couldn’t help but think that it really needed to rain soon. He pulled on the middle of his tee shirt, peeling the fabric away from his sweaty skin. Damn, he needed a shower, STAT.
“A couple clan members have gone to those After Hours dating mixers in Bozeman. They do a shifter mixer every other Saturday.”
“A shifter mixer?” It sounded ridiculous… even if his curiosity was piqued. They ascended the stairs and went inside, a blast of air conditioning hitting Trey squarely on the chest. He closed his eyes and relished a moment of cold.
“Yeah, you know, they advertise it as a women-looking-for-a-shifter type thing. Cal Jameson has gone twice and he said the women were full and curvy and fine.” Xander made an hourglass shape in the air with his hands, a playful gleam in his eye.
Trey couldn’t help but smile. He was a sucker for full hips… and voluptuous breasts, and curvy thighs… damn it.
“Good for Cal.” Trey tugged his shirt free from the waist of his jeans and pulled it over his head.
“I signed you up. This Saturday.”
Trey balled the shirt between his hands and narrowed his eyes. “You did not.” He cocked his head to one side, jaw set hard, hands fisting. His middle brother was a constant pain in his ass. If anyone needed a mate, it was Xander. Maybe then he’d stop being such a busybody.
“Did.” Xander took a step back with his palms up, a cocky smile on his lips. “Eight o’clock at the Batten Club. Dress nice.”
Completely over this conversation, Trey raced upstairs to his bathroom. He stripped, trying to shove the whole idea of mixers and mates out of his mind. Except that the possibility of walking into a room full of women and taking a glance around for the right one wasn’t horrible. If none of them caught his attention, and his libido, he’d walk out. There wasn’t any harm in looking, was there?
He and his brothers lived in this huge, empty ranch house, forty miles from the nearest city, on a spacious property that offered too much work and too little family. It needed life, a future. It needed women and children. Trey showered, feeling his spirits lift, even though he still wasn’t sold on the dating idea. Getting out, he toweled off, looking forward to beers with his friends tonight at Shay’s Bar. Maybe he’d ask around, see if anyone else had any experiences at this mixer.
Wiping steam from the bathroom mirror with the end of his towel, Trey realized he needed a haircut. If he was going to do this, he’d need to clean up a little bit—
He turned, catching a quick reflection of the back of his shoulder in the mirror. Pulse pounding, he paused and studied the length of scarred and rippled skin that reflected back at him. Phantom pain lanced down his back and spread across his shoulders, working down to his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. Cringing, Trey grit his teeth, willing the discomfort to stop, demanding himself to quit thinking about it. He remembered the pain
He’d taken over the position after his father and mother were killed in a car accident a year ago. Someday, he might have a son who would take over the responsibility. A shot of yearning went through him. It was harder to suppress than it used to be, the longing for a family.. Every bear went through it, or so he’d been told, this driving need to settle down with a mate. Once his thirtieth birthday came and went, so would the urge. He might still find a woman to love, but she’d never have his children.
“There isn’t a huge selection of eligible human women around here,” Trey heard himself say. He groaned. Why the hell had he just encouraged this conversation? Xander finished his own water and crumpled the bottle in his hand.
“I’ve already got that covered.”
“I can’t wait to hear this.” Trey nodded toward the house and they headed that way. His boots kicked up dust from the dirt path and he couldn’t help but think that it really needed to rain soon. He pulled on the middle of his tee shirt, peeling the fabric away from his sweaty skin. Damn, he needed a shower, STAT.
“A couple clan members have gone to those After Hours dating mixers in Bozeman. They do a shifter mixer every other Saturday.”
“A shifter mixer?” It sounded ridiculous… even if his curiosity was piqued. They ascended the stairs and went inside, a blast of air conditioning hitting Trey squarely on the chest. He closed his eyes and relished a moment of cold.
“Yeah, you know, they advertise it as a women-looking-for-a-shifter type thing. Cal Jameson has gone twice and he said the women were full and curvy and fine.” Xander made an hourglass shape in the air with his hands, a playful gleam in his eye.
Trey couldn’t help but smile. He was a sucker for full hips… and voluptuous breasts, and curvy thighs… damn it.
“Good for Cal.” Trey tugged his shirt free from the waist of his jeans and pulled it over his head.
“I signed you up. This Saturday.”
Trey balled the shirt between his hands and narrowed his eyes. “You did not.” He cocked his head to one side, jaw set hard, hands fisting. His middle brother was a constant pain in his ass. If anyone needed a mate, it was Xander. Maybe then he’d stop being such a busybody.
“Did.” Xander took a step back with his palms up, a cocky smile on his lips. “Eight o’clock at the Batten Club. Dress nice.”
Completely over this conversation, Trey raced upstairs to his bathroom. He stripped, trying to shove the whole idea of mixers and mates out of his mind. Except that the possibility of walking into a room full of women and taking a glance around for the right one wasn’t horrible. If none of them caught his attention, and his libido, he’d walk out. There wasn’t any harm in looking, was there?
He and his brothers lived in this huge, empty ranch house, forty miles from the nearest city, on a spacious property that offered too much work and too little family. It needed life, a future. It needed women and children. Trey showered, feeling his spirits lift, even though he still wasn’t sold on the dating idea. Getting out, he toweled off, looking forward to beers with his friends tonight at Shay’s Bar. Maybe he’d ask around, see if anyone else had any experiences at this mixer.
Wiping steam from the bathroom mirror with the end of his towel, Trey realized he needed a haircut. If he was going to do this, he’d need to clean up a little bit—
He turned, catching a quick reflection of the back of his shoulder in the mirror. Pulse pounding, he paused and studied the length of scarred and rippled skin that reflected back at him. Phantom pain lanced down his back and spread across his shoulders, working down to his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. Cringing, Trey grit his teeth, willing the discomfort to stop, demanding himself to quit thinking about it. He remembered the pain
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