Page 2 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

Clearing my throat, I say, "What can I do ya for, Birthday Girl?" Refocusing on the blonde before me is a challenge. She doesn't appear to notice, though. Angel practically glows, reveling in the little bit of attention I'm giving her. Her hair is almost white, whereas Artemis's is more like honey now. She and Sam hadbeen in the bathroom for about three hours one night. When the girls came out, Artemis had hair that almost looked like the color of her wolf's eyes.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to dance?" Angel asks, picking at the peeling beer label, her lip caught between her teeth and twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Sure, birthday girl. I'll dance with you," I reply, smiling. The answer is easy because, if nothing else, it will get me away from the bar where I'm just asking for trouble watching my Alpha and his girl like that.

Trouble has honey-blonde hair and brown eyes and goes by the nameArtemis Leto Hunt.

Angel's face lights up as she says, "Really?" Her surprise catches me off guard. Was she expecting me to refuse her?

"Consider it my gift to you," I answer. Quickly draining the rest of my beer and plastering on a smile, I lead the birthday girl toward the mob of gyrating hips in the center of the bar. Truthfully, I hadn't brought the blonde a gift. That had been Dante's job. He and Artemis went thrifting and found her a present. Along with many candlesticks for the new house, Dante insisted we needed. I didn't see what they'd gotten her, but the bright pink bag is currently on the gift table with all the others.

2

Animal Magnetism

Artemis

Only fools go to the same place they work on their days off for fun. Or maybe just people who are in good with the owner.

Ivy closed the bar to host Angel's birthday party tonight, and the guest list practically filled the place to maximum capacity. To my surprise, Angel also invited me and the boys by extension. We aren't close by any means, but she's nice enough to work with.

I've been watching Angel, though.

Right now, she's sauntering to Saint in her satin pink slingbacks with her beer bottle firmly in pink-painted nails.AndI know she's had at least seven or eight shots by now. The birthday girl even has a tab open for drinks for herfavorites. It was a massive surprise when I discoveredIhad made that list.

Angel has also been blowing up the Coyote group chat forweeksabout the party, peppering me with innocent enough questions about Saint.

It didn't take me long to understand what she was after. Angel wants Saint to be the patronsaintof her pussy. I can't blame the girl; Saint is tall, sexy, funny, and kind.Andhe can cook.

My wolf watches her, the fuck me eyes she's giving Saint. I try to ignore how my gut twists when I see Saint smile at her.

"Need another drink?" Jay asks in my ear as I'm lining up my shot. Billiards aren't my strong suit, but I can at leasthitthe balls. Most of the time, anyway.

"I surely couldwhetmy whistle, handsome," I murmur back, resisting the shiver down my spine.

I still can't believe that, after all these years, it's Jay. That he's been here,waitingfor me. Well, maybe notwaiting, but a girl can have her delusions.

Delulu is the solulu, after all. My wolf rolls her eyes at me, placing her chin delicately upon her crossed paws in the dark confines of my mind.

On my exhale, the cue ball slams into the eleven, a resoundingcrackechoing through the bar. The striped red ball goes in, but so does the cue after bouncing around the table's edges.Fuck. And that signals the end of my turn. Jay lines up his first shot, sinking his ball. I roll my eyes, swaying my hips to the music. I've had enough to drink tonight that I can't help it anymore.

If I don't move, I'llrun.

Angel's playlist isn't half bad, but it's more fist-pumpy than I typically go for. It sounds like a mix of the chart toppers from the last decade,at least. Music is music, but the melodies sound out of place coming from the speakers. Coyote Bills is more of a dive bar than a club or lounge, where her playlist is usually found.

Stop being so critical.My wolf grouses, rolling her golden eyes at me.

Jay easily lines up his last shots—therat bastardis also a pool shark. I make a show of clapping for him when he sinks each ball and give him a mocking bow when he wins, sinking the black eight ball. He was the one who suggested the game in the first place.

The broad smile Jay gives me after my bow sets my pulse jumping.

"Come on, Gorgeous, let's go get some drinks." He says, replacing our sticks in the rack, then throws an arm across my shoulders. He smellsgood—like pine and leather—the forest and the interior of his GTR.

I only have to tug on the center of his shirt, tilting my head back for him to turn his face toward mine. Walking backward half a step, I pull his mouth down just as my back hits the wall. The kiss is intense, a clashing of tongues, Jay's thick thigh wedged between my own, his hands in my hair, on my waist. He swallows my moans greedily, winding a hand around my neck.

There's something about Jay, something magnetic, that I can't get enough of.

Hours later, and many,manymore drinks later, I find myself leaning on the bar, Jay and Saint standing around me. The heat in my body tells me two things.