Wrong Number, Right Panther (Dial M For Mates #8)

Chapter 1 - Lincoln

LINCOLN

I'd made three major mistakes in my life.

Only three? my panther scoffed. I can think of… He started counting, and I shushed him.

Quiet. I’m ruminating.

Huh?

I’m thinking.

My first big life booboo was dating Lenny.

The second was believing Lenny would change or that I’d change him.

And the third was answering my phone when my younger brother, Dale, called at nine o’clock on a Friday night.

He’d had too much to drink, which, as a college student, wasn’t surprising, with classes over for the week and being on the cusp of the weekend.

I got the impression my brother was about to do something he’d regret when he was talking about some guy who didn’t seem like a good fit for him. I’d been in his position ten years ago, and I didn’t want Dale to make the same mistake I had.

And that was how I found myself perched on a log—who decided logs made a great bench?—in the middle of the woods, nursing a beer I didn’t want while observing my baby brother flirting with a dirtbag. And judging by his behavior tonight, Dale wanted to be more than friends.

My brother was no longer tipsy but drunk, and he draped himself over Mike.

Dale had mentioned in passing that Mike was single, but I was savvy enough to see the telltale tan mark where dear old wolf shifter Mike had removed his wedding ring.

He might’ve been separated, but my guess was he had a husband sitting at home, thinking Mike was attending a business dinner.

My panther couldn’t understand why a shifter would have a husband, and I told him to scent the guy.

Oh, his mate is human.

This was worse because the human wouldn’t scent Dale on Mike. All he’d smell would be embers, and Mike would make up an excuse of him and his buddies being outside while one smoked.

I didn’t want my little brother to get hurt, because drunk or not, Mike’s name had come up in conversation regularly of late. Gods, what if Dale got pregnant by this bozo? My panther covered his eyes, not wanting to picture any intimacy between the pair.

I drained the beer and was handed another. I accepted it, which made Dale not the only family member making mistakes this evening. At thirty-two, I was too old for babysitting, and yet here I was.

“L-Linc, l-lighten up. You l-look like someone kicked your puppy.” Dale slurred his words while he had one arm on Mike’s thigh, which was way too close to the guy’s crotch.

We have a puppy? Show me who kicked it, and I’ll bite their head off. My beast was ready to end someone until I told him no animals were harmed.

I pretended not to hear Dale whispering to Mike, even though I possessed enhanced shifter hearing. The music was deafening, and people were chatting, laughing, and a pair were wrestling as onlookers were cheering them on. I had no idea what was up with that.

Dale waved both hands in the air, and beer slopped over his shirt. The effort of waving had almost made him topple off the log, but Mike grabbed him and hauled up upright.

“Come on, Linc.” My little brother wasn’t giving up, and now he was creating a scene, and other people were taking notice.

Great, I was the asshat older brother, a spoilsport who refused to join in the fun.

Though Dale’s idea of fun was driving too much and groping Mike, gross.

But Dale wasn’t giving up, so I finished my beer and made my way over to him.

I was supposed to be looking after him, and so far, I’d ignored him, except side-eyeing him and Mike being handsy.

My brother slung an arm around my shoulder, the one holding the bottle of beer. Now I had beer remnants trickling down my spine.

“This is my brother, everyone. He’s cool, really, even though he dresses like a boomer and hates loud music.”

What was wrong with the way I dressed? But I disagreed with him labeling me cool ‘cause I wasn’t.

Mike looked me up and down as if he was assessing whether he should turn his attention to me. That was something I’d tell Dale tomorrow when he was sober.

A girl dragged a blanket into the circle and sat on it cross-legged. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

Oh, gods, no. That was enough to make me drown out what was happening around me with another beer, even though I already had a slight buzz and any more alcohol would tip me into Dale territory.

My brother slapped me on the shoulder again and more beer spilled down my front. I smelled like a brewery and wanted to go home, but not until I could drag Dale away.

“You’re playing, Linc.” Dale grinned.

“No, I’m not. You can join in.”

“I will because I’m fun.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Drunk and fun.”

I shot him a look, one that usually had him back down. But now his grin became wider.

“Come on, old man,” someone yelled, and people tittered. Compared to the twenty-somethings here, I supposed I was ancient.

Regretting coming, as well as the game I was about to participate in, I watched as people spun a damned bottle and listened to the mundane dares to drink beer or jump in the lake. The truths consisted of the worst hookups and most embarrassing moments.

Then Dale pointed at me. “Truth or dare, Linc?”

Could I get out of this by being even more of a fuddy-duddy and pretending I didn’t understand how the game was played?

“Skip me and go on to someone else.”

“No, no, no,” everyone chanted.

“That’s not how the game works,” one guy told me.

“Live a little, Linc.” I rolled my eyes at my brother whose flushed cheeks and cheesy grin told me I couldn’t leave because he’d do something he shouldn’t if I did.

“Okay, okay. I choose truth.”

“That's so boring,” someone yelled.

“But I get to choose, right?”

Mike spoke up, the first time he’d opened his mouth to say anything and not stick his tongue in my brother’s ear. “When was the last time you shifted?”

Maybe this was easier than I expected. “This morning.”

The dirtbag wasn’t finished, though. “Show us a photo.”

That wasn’t part of the game.

They want to see a picture of me? Do it, please.

“Oh, that’s a good one. Linc’s panther is a badass.”

I sighed because I had photos of my beast on the phone, initial pics that had been taken years ago when I first shifted and more recent ones.

I’ve matured since then, my panther assured me.

But it was a mistake because I didn’t know where this was headed.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through photos. Panther shifters liked to keep track of the condition of their coat, so we took pics regularly.

There was my beast, proudly strolling through the woods searching for prey… that prey being my ex when I’d had a few too many beers. I held up the phone, hoping I was done with this game and they’d move on to someone else.

“Damn.”

“He’s gorgeous.”

Mike’s lips curled into a smirk. I was ready to release my panther and have him scare the crap out of that wolf. “Now I dare you to send that to your ex.”

What the heck? How did Mike know about my ex? They were both dirtbags, so they had that in common.

“That’s not part of the game. I did my truth.”

“Too scared?” He was taunting me, and my panther was preparing to leap on him.

“Do it, Linc.” Dale was holding his belly and laughing. “That would be the funniest thing ever. Do it. Do it,” he chanted.

People picked up the chant, and everyone was clapping in rhythm. I ground my teeth at the idea of communicating with Lenny. And I could hardly complain about Mike when Lenny was the president for life of the asshat society.

But I had the perfect excuse. “I deleted his number.” Too late, I realized I should have said I didn’t have an ex, but Dale would have told the group I was lying.

“Oh, too bad, so sad.”

What was wrong with Mike? As well as being a skank and a possible cheater, he was egging me on as if he sensed my distaste and wanted to humiliate me. I was regretting the many beers I’d consumed.

The guy pulled out his phone. “Lenny, was it?”

Dale must have told him, and I glared at my baby bro.

“I have it.” Mike was invested in humiliating me, but I could bear it if I got Dale out of his clutches.

I could say no. I could get up and walk away, preferably dragging Dale with me. But my brother was watching me with drunk expectant eyes. And I was tired of the tension.

“Fine.”

Someone whooped, not Dale, but he clapped me on the back. He was at the stage where he could close his eyes and not wake up until lunchtime tomorrow.

I copied the number from Mike’s phone. Lenny and I hadn’t communicated since the breakup, and I was certain he'd blocked me. I asked the universe to make it so.

After starting a new message thread, I blinked because the numbers were blurring. I attached the best pic of my panther, but my finger hovered over the send button. Lenny was garbage, and I’d spent six months getting over him. This might be reopening old wounds.

I hit send, and it went through with a whoosh, but I hoped my ex would never see the message.