Page 3 of Bad Wolf

Scott pulls out a tall stool and sits down next to me. “With the girls, where else would she be?” he says, motioning to the bartender for a beer.

I smirk at Troy and then scan the bar menu, deciding to order up a round of Kamikazes for the three of us.

It’s time to really get the blood pumping and these little crazy shooters will help with that.

We were the first to arrive at the meeting point an hour ago, ready to get our boy Theo well and truly wasted, but he’s yet to show.

Scott places his elbows on the bar top, eyes roaming over the place. I can’t help but do the same.

The cream linen canopy ceiling ripples, lifting and falling as the ocean breeze flows through the chic, refined open structure, which is a welcome reprieve from the endless heat of the day.

Hypnotic waves softly lapping at the buttermilk sand shore offer the ultimate soundtrack to the start of the official night Theo kisses Bachelordom goodbye. That and the melodic techno lounge music synonymous with beach bars.

It’s a vibe. And I. Am. Vibing.

The bar is busy, but our perfectly poured shots are in front of us within a few minutes. As more and more of our group descend, Theo included, we’re shown to a private circular seated area that’s separated from the rest of the bar by a wooden walkway and built over the water. It’s big enough for all of us, but it’s mainly so they can keep us contained, I think.

Adam Hollywood, my housemate and our starting right winger, sits down just after me and throws his arm around my shoulders squeezing me into him.

“Why does it feel like tonight is going to be the night to end all nights?”

“What do you mean?” I say to his profile.

“Like, I feel excited.”

That makes me grin. “When do you not feel excited?”

“This feels different. This has an edge to it. Like, we’re on the cusp of something big. Monumental.”

Callan Knight, Adam’s best friend and another teammate in our tight-knit group, sighs and leans forward so he can talk around Hollywood, with a playfulness that only comes out every now and again. His lips even tip up in a half grin.

Maybe Hollywood is right.

If Callan is feeling chipper, something is definitely coming. Callan isn’t miserable per se, just reserved. But there’s always got to be a guy with a little mystery in the group.

Right?

“He has a feeling about tonight.” Callan chuckles. “Was getting Rex all riled up. Apparently, things are, and I quote,‘about to get all whirl-windy’.”

“Whirl—are you already fuckin’ wasted?” I chide.

“No, not wasted. I’m high on life, man. Something’s brewing I can feel it.”

My brows furrow as I gauge the wild look in his eyes, and then flick my gaze to Callan, who just shrugs and squeezes Hollywood’s neck.

“Come on, drink your cocktail. The waitress is bringing us another round.”

Hollywood drinks his fruity concoction—I can smell the coconut from here—draining it and placing the tumbler on the table, his fingers drumming on the glass top.

He’s definitely wired tonight.

I’m not gonna lie, for a minute he has me spooked and I scan the crowd taking a mental headcount. Our party is loud and boisterous, but everyone seems relaxed.

Happy.

I don’t see how there’s anything that could ruin this night.

Especially when my gaze hits a beautiful brunette over on the other side of the deck with her friend and I catch her stare, which lingers. Perfectly waved hair, a skintight maroon dress, sky-high heels, and ornate gold earrings.

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