Page 28 of Rocky Top

I hardly remembered. I grabbed her wrist, firm but not cruel. “Tara.”

She arched a brow. “What?”

“I ain’t interested. Knox should’ve booted your ass for what you did to Eliza’s car.”

“That fox won’t dare get rid of a dire wolf like me and piss off my brother.” Her mouth twisted, a smirk with too many teeth. “He still chasin’ that human girl? Heard you were talking to her friend. What’s her name? Barbie?”

Damn, word traveled fast. “Birdie,” I growled. “And she ain’t yours to talk about.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t belong here. You know that. She doesn’t understand what we are.”

“Maybe not. But she ain’t pretendin’ she does. That’s more than I can say for you.”

She jerked her wrist back and stormed off, heels clickin’ like a goddamn clock counting down to drama.

“Damn,” muttered one of the waitresses as she passed. Destiny, I think. New girl with a pink pixie cut and a fake ID she thought I didn’t know about.

“You lookin’ to die single, Rocky?” she teased, tossin’ a rag over her shoulder.

I grunted. “Better single than shackled.”

Behind the bar, Moonie poured two shots of whiskey and set them in front of me without askin’. She was one of the older girls, been around since Apollo’s reign. She wore fishnets like armor and had a switchblade in her bra.

“That girl’s dangerous and not in a fun way,” she said, noddin’ toward where Tara was now pretendin’ to flirt with one of the visiting Nashvilleboys.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

“Your ex is back in town.”

I paused, hand halfway to my drink. “What?”

Moonie smirked. “Saw her drivin’ past the hardware store in her cherry red Jeep. Same one you used to wash shirtless out front, tryin’ to win her back.”

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

“Name's Delilah, right? The one with the tattoos and the trust fund?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That one.”

Delilah and I didn’t end bad. We didn’t end good either. She wanted a life I couldn’t give her. Smooth walls, clean sheets, no monsters under the bed. Problem was, I was the fuckin’ monster. She was the kind of shifter in denial. Wanted to pretend she didn’t turn into an animal and lick herself.

And now she was back. The same week Tara’s in heat and Birdie’s got me dreamin’ about claimin’ her for real.

I downed the whiskey in one burnin’ shot and headed out back.

Chevy wandered over then, half-glowin’ from whatever spell he’d cooked up out in the yard. “You got a storm brewin’, brother,” he said like it was the weather forecast.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “And I’m about to be the goddamn lightning.”

The sound of gravel crunchin’ under boots wasn’t loud, but I heard it all the same. Wasn’t much slipped past me these days. Not after everything.

I didn’t turn. Just kept starin’ out from my perch on the back patio, cigarette burnin’ low between my fingers.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Knox said behind me.

“Figured you would,” I muttered, blowin’ smoke into the cool night air. “Ain’t many places to hide when the ghosts start knockin’.”

He came up beside me, leanin’ on the railing, his arms folded tight. He didn’t speak right away, and neither did I.

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