Chapter 4
TIPPY
“Hey, babe, ready when you are.” Larry winks at me. I gawk at him blankly over the counter as his eyebrows waggle up and down over his broad nose. “Surely you haven’t forgotten our date tonight?”
Shit!
“Oh, um, of course.” I grimace down at my apron. “I’m hardly dressed to go out, though.”
It’s three days since Larry asked me on this date, and I’ve been too preoccupied, hoping Jax will contact me, to recall what day I agreed to go. Seems it’s tonight.
The centaur leans a huge arm on the counter, and I notice he’s particularly well-groomed. He’s wearing a smart shirt, unbuttoned, and a thick gold chain is nestled in his chest hairs. His mane has been expertly styled.
“You’ll do just fine.” He smirks, then adds huskily, “Even in a sack, you’d look gorgeous.”
I give a feeble laugh.
Larry is a nice guy. He’d probably be top of the list for some. He’s got a great mane and tail. Strong teeth—if a little on the yellow side. Nice eyes. So what’s wrong with me? I mean, why would I go for the lean and hungry look when a beefcake like Larry is on the menu?
But the truth is, Jax Summers owns my heart. Has done for years.
Correction: human Jax had my heart. But now he’s ruined all that.
Because he chose not to tell me an important truth. He’s werewolf, not human.
And if I had to choose between him being a programmed human without free will and a werewolf with agency, I’d choose the first.
Wouldn’t I?
My racing pulse reveals the lie.
Because if I’m honest, there’s something about finding out that Jax is wolfen that thrills me.
And it shouldn’t.
I snap my mind away from these illicit thoughts and back to the present.
“So, where are you taking me?” I bat my lashes at Larry, as if doing so will silence my errant thoughts.
“Bait and Tackle.” Larry beams.
“Oh wow, the competition, eh?”
He nods.
Bait and Tackle is the new trendy spot to be seen on level one.
It only opened a month ago. It’s run by a selkie whose ancestors used to reside on a huge expanse of water called the ocean, way back when.
They are trying to mimic it here, with a small wave pool against one wall and a huge blue expanse painted above.
It’s kind of weird and funky, and definitely the new cool place to hang out.
Digger’s has taken a slight hit since Bait and Tackle opened, but we’ve always been a family place, so we tend to close early, which left those wanting to party on at a bit of a loose end.
Bait and Tackle has filled that gap. It’s the place to schmooze. To hook up, even.
Egh. This is going to get awkward.
It was stupid of me to accept, but I was acting on my emotions. I just wanted to get back at Jax, but now it feels like I’ve gotten in way over my head.
“I’ll just finish off here, and then… sure, let’s go,” I chirp.
Larry waits patiently, his eyes raking over me as I busily clean up the counter. The last customers leave with a wave and a smile.
Digger is still in the kitchen. I go up to the hatch and check if he wants any more help, hoping he’ll say yes.
“You can go, Tip.” The old goat grins.
I hand the last dirty plates through to the kitchen. “Really, I can stay, help you clean up.”
Digger glances past me. “Larry’s pawing at the ground, ready to whisk you away.”
I grimace. “Yeah, I said I’d go out with him tonight, but now I’m kinda regretting it.”
Digger grins. “If you need an excuse to escape, I’ll be here prepping for tomorrow’s breakfasts. You can tell him I need help.”
“Thanks, Digger.” I smile gratefully. The fawn is like a father to me, and since my fox shifter father ran off soon after I was conceived (a common problem with foxes, they rarely commit to parenthood), I don’t have a real father to rely on.
With a sigh. I take off my apron and walk out from behind the counter.
Larry’s eyes flick to my legs, and I see his nostrils flare, making me wish I’d worn leggings.
As we leave Digger’s, he looks like he might put an arm around my shoulders, but seems to think better of it as I swerve away, and grins sheepishly.
Even so, I know those big nostrils are scenting me, getting as close to my neck as he dares.
“I smell of hot dogs,” I warn.
“You smell perfect to me.”
I groan inwardly. How am I going to survive the evening with his cheesy comments and that moony grin? He’s had a crush on me for a while, and I’ve never encouraged him before. But if I’m honest, this was about word getting back to Jax.
Petty, I know.
I’ve done nothing wrong, I remind myself sternly. And I’ll have fun with Larry. I’ll make sure he knows I’m not in the market for anything by explaining that I’m still in the first year of my wixen training. That way he won’t get any ideas, and then I’ll head home early.
It’ll be just fine, I reassure myself as we head across the square to Bait and Tackle.
The markets are closing up, the stalls being packed down. I can see the lights of the new venue clearly. A sailing boat sign, bobbing on waves.
When we walk through the doors, the place is understandably busy, humming with a mix of monsters shouting and squealing above the beat of the music.
I do feel out of place here, since everyone is dressed up, while I’m still in my Digger’s uniform. I push my wavy red hair behind my ears. I am wearing my glittery earrings today, but that was coincidental. Still, they’re real pretty so I might as well show them off.
“What will you have to drink?” Larry puts out a big hand to help me onto a bar stool. Jeesh, he is huge. I imagine him kissing me with those thick lips and big teeth and I shudder.
An unbidden image of Jax’s sensual mouth, those vivid green eyes and lean long limbs makes my pulse spike.
Damn him.
Tossing my head, I ask for a glass of white wine. Another thing I don’t do is drink, except at vixen-shifter festivals. But I’m suddenly feeling reckless.
“Here’s your wine,” Larry says, handing it to me.
“Ah, thanks.” I take it and cast my gaze around the venue. There’s a small live band playing. “Wow, this place is great. I came here with Digger before it opened to check out the competition. Luckily, we haven’t noticed much of a downturn.”
“As long as you stay working at Digger’s, you won’t lose any customers, sweetheart. Not this one, anyhow.” Larry grins and chinks his glass against mine.
I sit demurely, making sure my skirt isn’t riding up over my knees as I sip my drink.
Meanwhile, Larry talks. And talks. He has this annoying habit of asking you about yourself and then turning it around so he can monologue about his life.
“So, how are your muscle-strengthening elixirs selling?”
“Great,” I say. I’m about to elaborate when Larry butts in. “That’s good to hear, because my muscles sure need more help. I’ve been pumping iron for three months now and I’m not getting the girth I want.” He bends an elbow to show me his huge bicep.
“That’s impressive, Larry. I don’t think you need an elixir from me.”
“I need anything you’re willing to give me, sweetheart.” I stifle a grimace and stare into my glass. “So how’s your wixen training going?” Larry continues.
“Pretty good. I’m learning runes from the Red Book.”
Larry taps his nose. “I’ll let you in on a secret. We centaurs know how to read the runes. My Great Uncle Sam took a sneak peek at the Red Book at your Aunt Felicia’s apothecary. He reckons he could understand quite a few of them. He won’t share what he learned, mind you.”
Of course he won’t, I think to myself. So many species claim they can read the runes, that they can bring the magic back to the Labyrinth. It’s all hot air and petty rivalry.
I sigh inwardly. The evening has only just begun and already I am bored rigid.
I sit with my arm on the bar and pretend to listen as Larry talks. Meanwhile, my eyes stray to the dance floor.
I see a pixie being twirled around by a tall, rangy male. He’s dressed in black and his shiny dark hair touches his collar.
My heart lurches.
Is that Jax dancing with the pixie? If so, they’re looking super cozy.
Jealousy pierces my heart with such intensity I almost wince. That he could be with another woman. Well, why shouldn’t he? And a pixie would make sense. Pixies love wolves. Something about the size difference…
Pathetic.
I harden my heart, try to focus on Larry’s droning words.
But I can’t help craning my neck as the pair stop dancing and the guy takes her hand and leads her toward the bar.
He turns, and I get a look at his face. He has the distinctive black eyes and pointed jaw of a fae.
Not Jax. Relief floods through me. Shame on my errant heart.
I turn back to Larry and lean forward, feigning total interest. I make it through another ten minutes before panic rises again. When he starts talking about his hooves flaking, it’s the last straw. Is this supposed to be a turn-on?
I excuse myself and head for the toilets. I have to find an excuse to leave. I’m still trying to work out a strategy as I walk out of the ladies’ a couple of minutes later—straight into a guy’s chest.
Ooof.
I register how good he smells. Peppermint and something musky beneath the clean male scent of him. His pecs are hard. The arm that steadies me is strong and lean, and the hand I look down at has long fingers, human nails with moons on the quick.
My nerves spike. I know that hand. I’ve watched him finger his vape so many times, shamelessly wishing he was touching me instead…
Finally, I look up into those heart-stopping green eyes.
A lazy smile shapes Jax’s lips, tugging his mouth sideways in the way that always makes my heart skip a beat.
“Tippy Honeywell. Fancy bumping into you,” he growls softy.
I should tell him to take his hand off my arm. But my tongue appears to be glued to the roof of my mouth.
His touch is burning fire through my veins, and instead of moving away, my lips part on a sigh of longing.
His fingers slide slowly along my arm, leaving a shiver of anticipation in their wake. My breath hitches and I’m almost panting as the green of his eyes turns mossy in the dim light of the passage.
I’m suspended like a fly in ointment, waiting, wanting him to kiss me.
A huge behemoth barges past, and Jax shields me from the beast. Now he’s got one arm on the wall, almost pinning me there. Still his eyes hold mine. My breathing goes haywire; I sway closer.
And then he breaks the spell.
“Having a nice time with Larry?” His lip curls, almost a sneer.
“He’s a really nice guy.” My head snaps back, eyes flashing. “Trustworthy. And honest—unlike someone else I know.”
Jax makes a growly noise. “Gods damn it, Tippy, I tried to talk to you the other day.”
“We’ve got nothing to talk about.”
“I disagree.”
His voice is subtly different, I notice. Wolfen. Sexy.
I put my hand out to push him away, but as I make contact with his chest my claws instinctively flex, like a cat needling a cushion. I swear I almost purr at the feel of his pecs.
“I think I should go,” I say stiffly. But my body screams something altogether different as arousal beats a steady path to my core.
He stares down at me, unblinking.
Oh gods, he’s scenting me. He knows…
He bends his head, whispers close to my ear, “So, are you going to stay here with him… or come with me?”
“I arrived with Larry. I’m not so rude as to desert him.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, and straightens suddenly.
I want to scream, No, it doesn’t suit me. I want to leave with you.
But of course, I don’t.
To my surprise, Jax peels my hand from his chest, and for a moment he plays with my fingers. My knees go weak with longing as he strokes his long fingers softly over mine. Jax has never behaved like this, so… so commandingly possessive.
“Have you got hair on your palms now?” I hear myself giggle like a teenager.
Jax shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe we should take a look.”
He turns his hand palm-up, still holding mine.
“No hairs. Must be a myth.”
We both stare down at his palm, at my hand resting in his. Before I even register what I’m doing, I flex my claws and scratch slowly along his skin.
His brows arch in surprise, his lips part and he draws in a breath. A little bead of blood oozes from where I scratched him.
I glance up to see his features darken. A muscle tics in his jaw.
Me scratching him turned him on.
Hell! It’s mutual.
Snatching my hand away, I spit out, “Keep away from me, or I’ll scratch harder next time,”
“Is that a promise?” he purrs, lips twitching as if he can see right through me.
I push past him, my claws flexing angrily as I stomp back to the bar.
What was I thinking? Gods damn it, the bastard has been a closet werewolf for three years. He could have told me the truth countless times, but he chose to deceive me.
And meanwhile, I waited and hoped, and dreamed of a future with him. Like a lovesick idiot.
I recall all the time we’ve spent together, the way we skirted around the issue of our mutual attraction. And all that time, he hid his wolf from me. Truth is, he’s been playing me. A werewolf would never date a vixen shifter.
I grit my teeth.
Well, there’s no way I would date Jax Summers either. Not now. Not if he was the last male standing.
As I sashay back to the bar, I imagine his eyes are on me, burning holes in my back. A wicked, shameful part of me wishes he’d come bounding up, grab my arm again. Swing me around.
Kiss me.
Yeah, just so I could slap your smug face, bastard. Leave a scratch mark there too.
But even as the angry words form in my mind, I know I’m lying to myself.
If he kissed me, my arms would wind around his neck, my fingers would play at the nape of his neck, claws retracted, and I would kiss him right back.
Shut the fuck up, Tippy.
Larry is waiting patiently, his eyes avidly scanning the crowd. When they alight on me, a dopy grin spreads over his face. He’s so hot for me. I really shouldn’t lead him on, it’s not fair. He’s a decent guy who doesn’t need to be a pawn in my game of revenge.
But it’s like a little demon has inhabited my body, cast a malicious spell on me. All I want is to hurt Jax. It’s pathetic and immature, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
I’m ashamed to say that when I sit down next to him, I bat my eyelashes and lean over so my tits bob in front of him.
His big barrel chest heaves as he gawks down at my cleavage. “Another drink?” he asks, his voice suddenly hoarse.
“Sure, I’d love one,” I say, and toss my head, hoping that Jax sees me leaning into Larry Knockballs and placing my hand on his arm.
And I hope it drives him crazy.