Chapter Three
Bridger sat at the back of the Pack meeting, listening to Liam light up Vic and Lyric. He’d never heard his Alpha so angry at any of them. Bridger was having trouble feeling sorry for Lyric and Vic though. They deserved the callout.
Bridger wasn’t usually one to tattle on the others, but he wanted to nip this find-Bridger-a-mate plan in the bud, for all the Pack. Liam would ensure it didn’t happen again and that Bridger be left alone, as he preferred.
Tattoos and dark hair—the complete opposite of Amelia.
He imagined his late mate smiling, but over the years, the exact shape of her face blurred a little.
He would need to dig out the box of old pictures soon.
She had bright blond hair, crystal blue eyes, and full lips.
The most she ever wore was mascara. You couldn’t pay her enough to mar her skin with tattoos.
She was perfectly curvy and much shorter than him.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember how it felt to hug her.
“Bridger, are you listening?” Liam asked.
Bridger eased his eyes open to realize the entire Rogue Pack was staring at him. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “What did you say?”
“Vic and Lyric are banned from interfering anymore. Everyone here is banned from pushing a mate onto Bridger, and that is an order,” Liam ground out. “Is that understood?
“Yes, Alpha,” they all murmured.
“You can all go,” Liam said in an annoyed tone. “Bridger, hang back for a second so I can talk to you.”
Great.
He glared at Vic as he passed. Asshole.
“We texted her and apologized,” Lyric said softly. “We feel so bad.”
“You should. Why the hell did you think that would work?”
Lyric shrugged and looked miserable. “Honestly she just felt…special.”
“She couldn’t be farther from Amelia if she tried.”
Lyric exchanged a glance with Vic. “Isn’t that the point?”
Bridger frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We weren’t trying to find a replacement for your mate, Bridger. We were trying to find someone you couldn’t compare to her.”
“You should look at her matchmaking page, man,” Vic said softly as he typed onto his phone. He looked up and clapped him on the shoulder. “We messed up, but she seems cool as hell.”
Bridger was still stuck on the ‘Isn’t that the point’ comment Lyric made when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out and opened the link Vic had sent him.
It opened up on a page with the tattooed lady’s picture at the top.
Actually, there were multiple pictures of her if he scrolled.
Nikita ‘Kit’ Rothchild. The first picture was a selfie of her in natural sunlight with a bright smile.
Great smile. It lit up her light-colored eyes.
The next was of her on a hike in some desert.
Her long bi-colored hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she wore a tight tank top and shorts and hiking boots.
Sunglasses covered her bright eyes, and she was waving to the camera.
The next was a picture of five wolves, with a petite cream and brown one circled.
On the photo was typed, would pair best with a protective partner. Submissive wolf.
The next was of her behind a bar at some fancy place.
She wore a white, long-sleeved ironed shirt and a black apron.
All of her tattoos were covered, and her hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck.
She was shaking up a drink with the biggest, happiest smile plastered across her face.
His attention lingered on that one. She seemed to love what she was doing.
He could feel the joy jumping through the picture.
The Mark made sense now as a job she’d set up for herself.
He respected that she hadn’t come here just to coast for a while with a new mate. She’d had work lined up for herself. Independent. Nice.
He scrolled down to her biography.
Thirty-four years old, never paired, no cubs.
Ready for long-term pairing. Wanting to trust someone and to let her wolf bond.
She is a part of the McIver Pack but is willing to relocate if a partner is solidified into a Pack and wants to stay.
Can be flexible with living arrangements.
Is fine with taking it as slow as a partner needs.
Would ask for the same consideration as she is ready for a match to stick.
Partner must have a job and steady stream of income and willing to pay their own bills.
Must be of sound mind, and patient. Must be trustworthy. Must want cubs.
Below that were a few links to her social media pages.
He clicked the first one, and her Instagram page popped up.
The page was set to private, so he couldn’t see anything, but he could see the tags with her in it, and The Mark had just tagged her page.
He opened up the video of her behind the bar taking orders for a trio of ladies.
Two more guys were waiting at the end of the bar.
She wore the same short tank top she wore earlier, and jeans, and her hair hung in wild pretty curls down her fit shoulders.
She talked with a customer, leaned in, listened to her order, and went to making a drink.
She did fancy bottle spins and chatted away with them as if she’d made drinks like this a million times before.
A woman’s voice in the background said, “Bartender Kit is our guest tonight! Come see what she can make for you. Last call is at one-forty-five!” The caption said, Shout-out to Bartender Kit for coming out a full day early when I needed her.
I’ve been counting down to getting this one behind my bar.
Welcome the newest member of the team. She’s going to shake things up around here.
Get it? Shake things up? Bartender joke.
We’ve got one-dollar cheap whiskey shots for the next hour!
Come and get ‘em while the getting’s good!
There were forty-five likes on it already, and when he looked at the comments, there were a bunch of thirsty guys talking about how hot she was. One said he was headed to The Mark right now just to talk to her.
“You good?” Liam asked.
Bridger swallowed the growl that was rattling his throat. “Always,” he lied.
Such confusion swirled in his chest as he thought about Amelia again. He shook his head hard, but the damn growl was sitting right there, ready to rattle his chest again.
“The Pack is worried about you, man,” Liam said, resting against the dining table. His mate, Nory, was cleaning dishes in the kitchen, but Bridger could tell her attention was really on their conversation.
“Tell the Pack to mind their own business. They are all paired and breeding. They have plenty to keep them busy. Stop worrying about me.”
“Yeah, but lately, you’re so quiet and combative. It’s getting worse.”
“Anything else?” he clipped out, standing.
He hated the somber worry in Liam’s eyes as his Alpha pursed his lips and shook his head. “I guess that’s it.”
“Cool. Have a good night.” He headed for the door, but Liam said, “Bridger?”
“What?” he gritted out, turning in the doorway.
“We’re all here for you, man.”
Bridger felt like flipping him off, but he couldn’t explain those feelings lately.
Everyone made him angry. Everything annoyed him.
Liam meant well, so why did Bridger want to disrespect and hurt him?
He had no explanation. So instead, he forced himself to nod and mumble, “Thanks,” even though he wasn’t thankful at all.
What did that guy mean he was heading to the bar to see Kit?
He opened up The Mark’s page again and clicked on the guys profile.
His handle was ChaseThisD. Probably his first name was Chase, and the rest of his dumb name came from his own stupid imagination.
Chase looked like a fuckboy. A short scroll exposed three different girls on his arm.
Bridger backed out of his page and went to The Mark’s page again and read two new comments about the new “Hot Bartender.”
Another growl rattled his throat. Okay, so he hadn’t felt possessive in forever, and this was an old familiar feeling from his wolf.
Maybe he was going crazy. Sometimes that happened when wolves lost their mates.
They stayed alone forever and eventually went insane from the heartbreak.
He’d gone absolutely berserk in the years after he’d lost Amelia, but that was a secret life he kept from the Rogue Pack.
They didn’t need to know what a monster he really was.
He’d had a good run, he supposed. It had been ten years since Amelia had died. Fuck, it felt like she’d died a hundred years ago. Every day dragged on and on.
He went back to Kit’s matchmaking page, and clicked her other social media links, but they were all set to private.
Probably smart. She was gorgeous. At least, for a tattooed, sassy looking, rebellious single woman.
If one was into that kind of woman. She looked better in person than she looked in her pictures, and that was saying something.
She looked hot in all her pictures. She looked like a wild ride.
She looked dark, sultry, sexy, and dangerous.
He recalled her fringe covered purse and her little ankle booties. Legs for days. He wished he’d paid attention to her tattoos more. Why had she done that to her body? He had questions.
No. No questions. She was heading back to Alabama. Maybe. Apparently, she’d gone straight to work at The Mark.
His phone dinged with a text, and he checked it. His banking app was letting him know that two hundred dollars had been sent to him from a Nakita Rothchild.
He stopped walking and stared at it.
Wait.
She was working right now behind that bar, and she was sending him money she made as she made it.
Oooh, he knew what kind of woman she was. She didn’t want help. She didn’t like feeling like she owed people.
He liked that. He was the same way.
He nodded, impressed.
What had that fucker, ChaseThisD meant he was going up just to talk to her?
He texted the number she’d given him to send her money. I got your money. I appreciate it. Just checking in. You okay? This is Bridger. The real Bridger. Send.
She was working and probably wouldn’t respond until after her shift was over. He made it almost all the way back to his house before his phone vibrated with a text. All it said was, Someone once told me I should ask for a video to avoid getting catfished. So…prove it.
A smile confiscated his face, and he lifted his phone up and took a video.
“Hey look, she learns. It’s really me. Just got done with a Pack meeting.
My Alpha lit their asses up. The fakes won’t contact you anymore.
Now you. Are you really Kit?” He knew he was fishing for a video from her but fuck it.
This was fun and it had been a long time since he had any of that.
The dots lit up the screen that said she was typing, and he settled onto one of his porch chairs, distracted as hell and not wanting to go back inside quite yet.
A video came through, and he opened it and pushed play.
It was a selfie video of her behind the bar.
God, her tits looked awesome from this angle.
She was smiling slightly and panned around her.
“I’m surviving a bad day with a little fun.
The crowd in here is immaculate. Y’all, say hi to Bridger,” she said.
A bunch of customers said in unison, “Hi, Bridger!”
A strange sound escaped him, and he realized it was a laugh. A real laugh. Not just a chuckle. A laugh.
It died in his throat when he saw ChaseThisD in the crowd though. He already had a drink sitting on the bar top in front of him, and his eyes were trained on Kit’s tits. The growl was back in Bridger’s chest.
He cracked his knuckles, then put a heart on the video. You look good. Send.
Hmm. I don’t believe you. I’m not a blond, and I have too many tattoos, and I look like an ex-stripper. I’ll send you more money at the end of the night. I’m raking in the dough here. Too bad I’m not staying. I might’ve liked it in Coeur d’Alene. Goodnight, Real Bridger.
He chewed the corner of his lip. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but she was working, and she wasn’t his. She had customers to talk to. She had ChaseThisD to entertain. And that was okay, right? She wasn’t his and he wasn’t hers.
He still belonged to a ghost.
Goodnight, Bartender Kit. Send.