Betting on Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

for a while before getting bored with him, she and Peyton shouted along the words to Pony when the DJ played it.
    After a while — ten minutes, an hour, Kirsten had no idea — she needed a break. And another drink.
    “I’ll be back!” she shouted to the other three, then fought her way across the dance floor to the bar. As she walked, she could feel sweat dripping down her back and between her breasts. For a moment, she leaned against a pillar, took a deep breath, and tried to cool down.
    Then she proceeded to the bar, which was totally surrounded by a mob of people. Kirsten sighed and pressed herself into the back of the mob, totally prepared to wait a while for another drink.
    It wasn’t long before she felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and she turned around, a tiny spark deep inside hoping it was Houston and Jack.
    “Hey,” said a random guy. He was wearing a button-down shirt silk-screened with skulls, not tucked into his jeans.
    Kirsten didn’t get excited.
    “Hey,” she said, a little warily. It was times like this that she wished she hadn’t thrown her wedding band down a gutter in a fit of rage. Even if she wasn’t married, it would have been useful for getting rid of men she didn’t want to talk to.
    He leaned in toward her ear, and Kirsten felt herself stiffen.
    “You know, if you wore a darker color, you’d be really attractive!” he shouted, then looked at Kirsten, eyebrows raised.
    What the hell? Kirsten thought.
    “Did you just give me fashion advice?” she shouted back, trying to make herself heard over the din.
    “Just that you’d probably get more attention,” he shouted. “Hey, let me buy you a drink to make up for it?”
    Kirsten blinked and took a step away from the guy, who was making the smuggest face she’d ever seen.
    “No!” she shouted. “I’d rather buy my own drinks than get one from you, dickbag!”
    The guy narrowed his eyes.
    “Good luck with that,” he said, viciously looking her up and down.
    Kirsten gritted her teeth. Then she flipped him off with both hands and walked around the bar, getting in another part of the line, and seethed .
    Who the hell does that? she thought. He just called me ugly and then tried to flirt with me. Is this something people are doing now? Insult-flirting?
    As she fumed, she watched one of the dancers on the pillar, waving her skirt around, twisting her upper body, and looking completely bored.
    I guess this is just her job , Kirsten thought with a slight shock.
    Then there was another tap on her shoulder.
    Kirsten whirled around, ready to give that asshole a serious piece of her mind, mouth open to tell him exactly what she thought.
    It was Jack, two drinks in his hands. Next to him was Houston.
    Kirsten didn’t say anything, just stood there with her mouth open.
    “I just saw you practically eviscerate some poor asshole, and I thought maybe I should have a drink ready for you when I approached,” Jack said, a sparkle lighting his green eyes from within. “Are you a Manhattan drinker, or a gin fizz drinker?”
    Holy shit, I can’t believe they showed up , Kirsten thought. She finally closed her mouth and looked from one to the other, and even though the two tall, rugged cowboys were totally out of place in this too-shiny nightclub, she was still very glad to see them.
    “I’ve never had a gin fizz before,” she shouted, and Jack handed her a tall, narrow glass.
    “They’re supposed to be good here,” he said. “According to the reviews, Heist has very good prohibition-era cocktails, if you get something besides red bull and vodka.”
    “Thank you,” Kirsten said, and took a long, slow sip. Something fizzed against her tongue, as promised by the name, and then there was the slightly evergreen tang of gin, then an herbal sweetness.
    It was pretty good.
    “So,” she said, looking from one to the other. “What are you doing here?”
    “This is where you said you’d be,” Houston said, grinning and shrugged. “So