As Bonnie clinked her glass to theirs, she’d never felt so happy. “What is this?” “Scotch,” Elliott said, drinking a hefty gulp. She took a small sip and felt the warm sting, wincing accordingly. “Ooh, that burns. I like it.” “Here they come,” Nate said, ear perked. “You called them?” Elliott shrugged. “I didn’t know you were coming back here, but I had to tell them your declaration.” He glanced at Bonnie. “I’ve got a big mouth. We don’t keep any secrets. Be warned.” Bonnie smiled, but looked at Nate, wondering what they were talking about. He led her to the side as the sound of the front door opening reached her ears, the voices of Darrell and Donny growing louder. Oh no! She didn’t want to see those guys right now. That Danny was a little intimidating. Bonnie straightened her spine and watched the two men…two werewolves…give her the once over as they entered the room. From their faces, Nate had been right about their senses of hearing and smell. They knew she was there before

Around the corner appeared his future wife wearing a white floor-length spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged her in all the right places. Her hair was in loose, long curls and she wore no jewelry. In her hands was a bouquet of the orchids he’d given her, the resilient flowers beautiful still. She’d brought them all, and the effect was kind of funny since there were so many. She had two friends with her, the woman who was drunk at the club, now sober and with light dancing in her blue eyes as she tended to her friend’s hair and kept talking non-stop. She wore a blue dress that complimented her eyes. The other was a redhead with wild wavy hair and a chic wardrobe. The women didn’t match, but it didn’t matter. The redhead was looking at Nate’s party. She smiled at the males en route to them, and her eyes paused a moment longer when she saw Danny. She glanced back quickly to Bonnie. Nate walked to meet them and he felt as though he could finally breathe. He gave her no sign he’d been ner

“Yes, perfect!!” Elliott yelled. “This is exactly what I’m talkin’ about!” Standing under a sign that read Hotties Coffee, the redhead barista opposite him laughed and handed him his usual triple espresso from across the counter. “Every day is almost like your first time.” He pointed at the drink, completely missing the gleam of longing she barely hid behind teenage eyes. Boyish enthusiasm coming from a devilishly handsome man in a snug, exquisitely tailored black suit was truly disarming. “Have you tasted this stuff? It’s addictive, almost like a good night's sleep in a paper cup.” Breathing in the steam and bitter smell, he shook his head like it was too hard to believe something that delicious could be real. He gave her a wink and stepped back from the wood-paneled counter. “See you tomorrow, Tory.” “Bye Elliott.” Since it was almost 5:00 p.m. the place was packed with suits, those of War ll Street traders. He was not one, but he did work as an architect there Downtown–also kn

The bruised-up woman was a block away by the time Elliott found her. The woman sure could walk fast. He jogged up to join her, matching her pace. “Hey, you forgot this.” He handed her a plastic cap to cover the paper cup. She glanced at it with a disturbed look as she took it from him. "I heard what you said to that woman. Why’d you say I got this from softball?” “Well, where did you get it from?” He dodged a woman walking her dog and downed the last of his new espresso. She didn’t lose a step. "I...I was mugged." He tossed his empty cup into a nearly full public trashcan. "That’s awful. Did it happen down here? What streets should I avoid?" She glanced over and caught the smile in his eyes. She half-chuckled. "I don't think someone like you has to worry." “Yeah? You think I could take ‘em?” He comically stood up straighter and bulked up his shoulders like a bodybuilder. She grinned and shook her head, slowing her pace to normal. “You’re very strange, you know that?” “Yeah, I

“What was the case about?” Elliott couldn't help but ask as he cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms, motioning to her briefcase, he added, “That’s a nice one.” She glanced at it. “Thanks. My dad gave it to me when I finished law school. He was an attorney too, but he died when I was sixteen.” Her eyes flickered. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Elliott said, gently. She gave a little shrug. “It was a long time ago, but on days like this…I wish he knew I followed in his footsteps. It’d be nice to see his face in the back of the room, watching as I argue against...” Shaking it off, she forced a smile. “The case? It was another big company trying to screw over an employee so they could be richer than they already are. I’ll never understand why people can’t look out for each other anymore.” He wanted to tell her about what he and his packmates did, how they help the less privileged, and the urge hit him hard but he stopped himself and frowned at the bizarreness of such an impossible impul