Page 10 of Wolf Cursed
Wow.
Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, a chiseled jaw that probably always came across as slightly angry.
Except for right now when he looked downright enraged.
I couldn’t imagine the sight of me—a complete stranger who’d never done anything to him—had sent him into a rage, but who knew. It had been a long day, and I knew my mind was still a fog after everything that had happened.
“I’m looking for Oscar,” I said.
The hottie rounded the counter, and I could see his angry response right there on the tip of his tongue. But then he must have gotten a good look at me, coated in two-day-old dried blood and probably bruised to a pretty shade of purple by now, and his eyes widened—only for a second before they immediately narrowed.
“What the hell do you want with Oscar?”
The energy coming off this guy was intense and threatened to break through the numbness that was keeping me calm.
“I just need to talk to him.”
My voice wobbled.
Of course it did.
His mouth flattened into a hard line. “I can give him the message.”
For some reason, his continued hostility made me braver. Rather than shrinking away, I straightened and held my ground. “No thanks, this is personal.”
The guy snorted. “Oscar doesn’t concern himself with outsiders.”
The way he said the word spoke volumes. Like being from out of town was a crime in itself.
“If that’s true, he can tell me himself. Is he here or not?”
The guy gave me a once-over as if assessing whether I was worthy or not. Whatever he saw must have been good enough because he finally leaned away and, without taking his eyes off my face, yelled, “Oscar! Get your ass in here.”
A second later, a muffled male voice came from out in the garage. “What?”
“Someone here to see you.”
“Take care of it, would ya? This piston is being a real pain in my ass.”
“Nah, this one’s for you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Special delivery.” The angry hottie gave me a smug smile and crossed his arms, clearly content to wait for the show.
I rolled my eyes, aggravated and beginning to regret not eating all day. I hadn’t been able to conjure up an appetite before, but for some reason, this asshole was clearing my head and bringing me back to myself.
The side door opened, and a guy about my dad’s age walked in. He had salt and pepper coloring his dark hair, including his short beard, but his face was somehow still youthful. Maybe it was the hard set of his features or the sinewy arms that looked like they picked up more than just a bottle every night. But something about him seemed young and able despite the age his gray hair implied.
“What the hell is it?” he demanded of the asshole who looked like he was about to swallow his teeth with that smug ass smile.
Without a word, the jerk gestured to me.
“Who are you?” the older man grunted at me.
“Are you Oscar?” I asked, some of my bravado fading at the grumpy way he eyed me.
“Maybe. Who the hell wants to know?” he demanded.
