Page 50 of Rocky Top

“Birdie,” she said, real soft. “There’s a world out there we don’t understand. I didn’t either, not till I saw it with my own eyes. And now... I’m gonna be part of it.”

I looked at her like she’d sprouted fur right there on the damn couch. “You’re telling me you’re fine with all this?”

“No. But I love him.”

Well, shit.

That part I couldn’t argue with. I’d seen the way Knox looked at her. The way he handled Emma like she was his own. Hell, if my best friend wanted to throw herself into the arms of a supernatural biker, who was I to say no?

But also... what in the actual hell? My friend was off her rocker. No wonder. She’d been through a lot.

I changed the subject. “You ever going to take your car in to get painted?” Club girl spray painted “Cunt” on the hood.

“Not yet.”

“Why don’t you borrow mine. Take it in tomorrow. No more reminders of bad times.”

Later that night, Knox gave me a ride home on his Harley, and I clung to his waist tighter than usual. Not because I was scared of the speed, but because I kept waiting for him to sprout ears and a tail mid-ride.

Once home, I kicked off my boots and collapsed onto my couch, where I promptly stared at the ceiling and questioned every life choice that had led me here.

Shifters.

Biker shifters.

Pregnant fox-shifter girlfriends.

I laughed hard. Then felt bad for laughing at my friend who’d been through hell.

Then I thought of Rocky.

Rocky who’d been actin’ all... intense lately. Protective. Primal. Like maybe...

“Nope,” I said aloud, to the empty room. “Absolutely not.”

Rocky was a biker. A pilot. A pain in my ass. He was not a goddamn animal in leather.

Except the dreams I’d been having. The way he growled when Bandit got too close. The way I felt warm all over when he touched me, even just a brush of his hand.

Was that attraction?

Or something else?

That thing in the woods. The wolf who saved me and then Rocky showing up. I groaned and flopped onto my stomach, shoving a throw pillow over my head.

“You’re losin’ it, Birdie.”

Still, I couldn’t shake the way Eliza had looked at me, earnest, scared, hopeful. And even though I thought she’d gone full loony tunes, a tiny part of me... had believed her. For a second.

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep. My head wouldn’t shut up. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing foxes with Knox’s tattoos or Eliza with glowy eyes and claws. And worse, I started wondering again if maybe therewassomething off about the Wild Dog clubhouse.

I mean, how many times had I joked about the guys being animals? The growling? It smelled like wet dog sometimes. The fact that at times Rocky looked at me like he was fighting every damn instinct in his body? His wolf tattoo?

A day later, I sat at my vanity, swiping on red lipstick and telling myself I’d imagined everything. It was just a strange week. A weird conversation. Nothing more.

Then my phone buzzed.

Rocky:You busy?

---