Hedging His Bets Read online

  Christ, what did a guy have to do to get that woman interested? Blake shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the stones in his path. She was probably into Mr. Sensible Sales Executive. Mr. Two Point Four Children with a nice family sedan and a pension plan. Not a shifter with a bad rep and a penchant for powerful bikes. Hell, his idea of planning ahead was making sure he had enough beer for the weekend.

  Maybe he should just quit while he was ahead. It sure would save him some frustration.

  Blake headed around the back of the bar to where his bike was parked. A monster of a machine, it sat half in the shadows, all sleek lines that radiated power. Everything Blake wanted people to see in him and why he would never, ever let Honey see him shifted.

  She knew he was a shifter of course. She’d figured that out early on. Just like she’d picked up on every other shifter that frequented the bar. Hardly surprising. The spot had been a furball meeting site since before Blake was born. Anyone taking on a place like this had to know what they were getting into, and Honey was better than most ‘normals’ at picking up on weres. She had to have something not quite human in her blood. One of her ancestors must have gotten down and dirty with a paranormal. But she didn’t know precisely what flavor of were he was. She’d never asked, he’d never offered the information, and that was just the way Blake intended it to stay.

  “Blake Anthony Carlisle, you’re an idiot,” a familiar voice announced from the darkness. Blake’s expression didn’t waver as he swung his leg over his bike and kicked the stand up, balancing the powerful machine between his thighs. Unbidden, the thought of being between Honey’s legs assaulted him, followed swiftly by a wave of lust so strong it took his breath away.

  Katie emerged from the shadows at the side of the bar. “When will you learn and stop sniffing around women you can’t have?” Her arms were wrapped around her against the chill of the evening.

  “Don’t call me that,” he said automatically. He hated his middle name, which Katie was well aware of. “And go and put a coat on, you’ll catch a cold, and then it’ll be me nursing your sorry ass until you get better. As usual.”

  Katie gasped in outrage. “As usual? What about that bout of man flu you had two winters ago? Who had to nurse who, then? Honey isn’t interested, Blake. Find a woman who is.”

  Fishing his keys out his pocket Blake shoved them in the ignition and turned. In a practiced motion, he leaned the bike to the side and kick started it. Getting his classic motorcycle going could sometimes be a pain, but it was a thing of beauty. The engine roared to life, a deep throaty purr that drowned out Katie’s voice.

  “Eh what?” Blake asked, cupping a hand around his ear. He knew he was being an ass, but riding the keen edge of frustration over Honey’s continued evasion, he couldn’t help it. “Can’t hear you? Something about having Honey? Yeah, I intend to.”

  He didn’t wait around to see the look that crossed over Katie’s face, just dropped the bike into gear and rumbled away into the night.

  It took three blocks before the bike turned of its own accord toward Honey’s street. He knew he shouldn’t. Definitely shouldn’t. She was already mad at him, so turning up on her doorstep wasn’t the most sensible of moves.

  The last time he’d shown up unannounced he’d caught her sunbathing. She’d threatened him with the garden rake. A smile curved his lips as the bike roared up the small street toward his goal, his hair flapping against his neck in the wind.

  Pulling into the driveway Blake looked at the dark windows of the house and cut the engine. Perhaps she was already asleep? Nah, she hadn’t been home long enough, surely? Maybe she was in the shower.

  Blake groaned and dropped his head back. He closed his eyes as the thought of her all soapy and wet got him hard in an instant. His cock strained against his leathers, desperate to be free. His balls drew high and tight with the need to storm in there, pull her from that damn shower, and claim her as every instinct he had urged him.

  He chuckled, the sound a little bitter as he kicked the stand down and got off the bike. Sucked to be him. The only Alpha male werehedgehog in town. In a pack of…count ’em…two. The only other one of his kind was Katie, a cousin of some flavor, although he didn’t know the precise connection. Just that it was massively distant. She would know though. Women always knew those things.

  On silent feet, he made his way around the side of the house to the back. Honey’s living rooms faced the garden she loved. If she was still up, she’d be around there. If he was lucky—or unlucky if she was still pissed at him—she’d be sitting outside.

  The veranda was empty. Blake breathed a mingled sigh of relief and disappointment. Then he pressed on toward the French doors to the living room. As he passed the lounge window though, something caught his eye and he stopped.

  There, in the corner of the room, was a cage. The kind people used for puppies or animals who needed the security of their own space. In this case though, it was more to curb mischief. Three familiar little bodies lay curled up in what looked like a very comfortable fleecy blanket, surrounded by toys.

  Hedgehogs. Honey kept hedgehogs. How had he not know that?

  The realization speared him, and Blake rocked back on his heels for a moment. Honey liked hedgehogs? For the first time—ever—Blake wondered what it would be like to reveal his shifted form to someone other than Katie.

  Peering through the window again, he looked for Honey. Where was she? All the lights were off. Well, except one. A low glow fell across the floor from the corridor, and he knew her bedroom lay in that direction, a place he’d often fantasized about entering.

  The moans reached his ears before he located the window he desired. Moans mingled with his name. Unable to help himself, Blake crept forward and peered between the curtains into the house. His eyes widened, and he jerked back, leaning against the wall for a moment as his mind tried to comprehend what he’d seen.

  “Holy shit!” His whispered words shot into the night.

  But as soon as his back met the side of the house Blake bounced off it again and looked through the window once more. His eyes ate up the vision presented to him. Honey was on the bed, covers thrown off, her fingers between her legs as she brought herself to orgasm. Blake didn’t know where to look first. Her glorious breasts, their nipples as stiff as peaks with her excitement, the wonderful curves of her body… His gaze zeroed in on the action going on between her legs and he groaned as she fucked herself with her fingers.

  “Oh, Blake… Fuck me, ride me, suck me… Want you…”

  If the window next to him had been open, Blake would have been through it like a shot. Land speed record for crossing a bedroom while stripping? He was so there. His dick throbbed in his pants, desperate to get to Honey and shove balls deep into her soft body. Forget the stick-like bimbos who seemed to assume he’d find them irresistible. He wanted a woman he could hold onto. A woman who wouldn’t break if he was a little rough… And sex with a were, even one like him, could get a lot rough. And dirty. And oh so delicious.

  He wanted a woman like Honey, all Rubenesque curves and creamy skin.

  “Blake!”

  He shuddered as she came, crying out his name. Oh shit, oh fuck. She’d seen him. How much time did he have before the cops came and arrested him for peeping? Potential incarceration or not, he couldn’t tear himself away.

  He braced himself with a hand on the window frame, and his fingers dug into the wood as if it were soft cheese. The grip kept him grounded, stopped him from storming in there and taking what he desired. His other hand reached down to his groin and cupped his erection through the leather, trying to ease it into a more comfortable position. It didn’t work. Comfort was not going to be an option for him tonight, not until he’d dealt with the raging hard-on her little show had caused.

  Casting a last look through the window as Honey turned over and got comfortable, Blake slipped away and headed back to his bike. Okay, apparently there was no impending arrest. Whew.


  Riding home with an erection was going to be uncomfortable but then, since Honey had shown up in town, he’d gotten used to walking around hard. Sighing, Blake swung his leg over the bike and started it, heading home for another date with Pam the Palm and her five little friends.

  * * *

  Honey passed another beer over the bar to Bernie, keeping an eye on him as she wiped down the rest of the counter and cleaned out the spill-over trays. Dirty job, but somebody had to do it. Honey was the boss, but she always wanted to be fair. She couldn’t ask someone else to do something she wasn’t willing to tackle. Today she and Katie had picked straws.

  She’d lost.

  Again.

  Something about that little hedgehog shifter…

  Honey nibbled her lower lip. “So, the thing about it is…”

  Katie stopped in the middle of the bar and poured beers for a group of guys who’d come in to watch Monday night football. “I know that tone, missy.”

  “Yeah,” Bernie piped up, “she knows that tone.”

  “Bernie, you’re cut off.” She laughed and pointed at the big ole’ bear at the end of the bar, occupying his usual seat.

  “Aw, man, I didn’t mean nothing, Honey girl.”

  She blew a kiss at Bernie and went back to her conversation with Katie. “As I was saying, the thing about it is… I’m thinking of adopting another little hedgie. With their cute little noses and prickly—”

  Katie stared at her, face blank. “It’s because I’m a hedgie, right? You’re tormenting me with all of this adoption nonsense? I swear—”

  She gasped, hand flying to her chest, mouth dropping open in an ‘o’. “I would never.”

  “Ha!” Katie snorted. “You so would.”

  “Pft.” Honey blew a raspberry. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

  “Yup, you’ve got an ass on ya all right.” A wolf whistle sounded behind Honey, and she turned to find Blake standing in the doorway silhouetted against the sun, outlining all of those muscles she’d been thinking of the night before. Damn, why couldn’t she have a crush on someone else? Someone normal, dependable, safe. The entire opposite of Blake with his bad boy attitude, tattoos and muscles for miles. If only he wasn’t so drool-worthy.

  “Blake.” She admonished him, frustrated that he could get to her with one little sentence. A few words and she became putty, just about ready to do anything he desired. The ass. With an ass. And a cock if her estimation was right. A cock to be very proud of.

  The bastard.

  “What? Just telling the truth.” He let the door slam behind him and ambled over, grin in place, dimple showing, giving him that boyish charm that could someday—maybe—charm her panties right off.

  She shook her head and handed him his usual: cheap beer on tap.

  “Anyway. As I was saying, I’m thinking of adopting another hedgie, from the Hedgehog Rescue League.”

  Blake spit his beer all over the counter. Ew! Projectile Blake spittle went everywhere: the counter, the floor behind the bar. Everywhere. Gross. Swapping spit was good. Cleaning it? Not so much.

  “Gee, thanks.” She grabbed a fresh cloth and bottle of spray cleaner, then approached him warily. “Done spitting all over my bar? Or is there a repeat performance in your future?”

  “Uh.” He stuttered.

  “Smooth, Casanova, real smooth,” Katie called from the register while counting out change for a customer.

  “Bite me, Bubble Butt.” Blake snarled back.

  Honey whirled around, working to hide her reddening, heating face and lack of self-confidence from Blake. He didn’t need to know how an insult to Katie, even joking, cut her to the quick.

  “Aw, Hon—” Damn, but he seemed to figure it out anyway.

  She blinked the tears forming in her eyes back. “Yeah, just gonna grab a different cleaner from the back. Wanna make sure the counter is spic and span for paying customers.”

  From the moment Katie informed her that Blake was her best friend, the man hadn’t paid for a thing in her bar. One of the benefits she offered to her waitress and friend. Plus, Blake had once saved a shifted Katie from an evil housecat bent on munching on her. So, asshole bar-trasher or not, he got free drinks. But not top shelf. He was good, but not that good.

  Katie followed her to the back, hand stroking Honey’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  Honey kept her back to her friend. “Why wouldn’t I be? Just grabbing—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Katie spun her around and drew Honey into a hug. “Blake’s an ass. You shouldn’t let him get to you.”

  “I know.”

  “Besides, Bubble Butt doesn’t mean fat.” Katie took a step back and shoved her hands into her pockets.

  “No, it means big. And round.” Honey glared at her friend, daring her to deny it. “Big. Round.”

  “Okay.” Katie started slowly, then perked up. “But maybe he’s like Sir Mix-a-Lot.” Then Katie started singing, bobbing her head. “Baby got back…” And dancing.

  “Do the running man. Uh, uh. Running man. Uh, uh. And shake your butt. Hip bump!” And then the most uncoordinated werehedgehog to ever live, hip bumped Honey into the condiment counter. Ketchup went flying, mustard squirted, and mayonnaise flopped all over Honey’s hair. Mayonnaise in a person’s hair was supposed to make it sleek and soft. She just didn’t want it to be in her hair at work.

  Of course, Katie laughed.

  And laughed.

  And laughed.

  And then, of all things that could happen to make Honey feel even worse than she already did…

  Blake walked in.

  *

  Whatever Blake expected when he followed the girls into the back, it wasn’t to find Honey modeling the bar’s latest line of condiments. From her lobster-red face, it wasn’t a look she planned on using in public either.

  Amusement filling him, he tried his best to keep a straight face. His dark eyes flicked between Honey and his cousin.

  “Dancing again?” He raised a single brow. He’d heard that women were supposed to be the epitome of grace and beauty, but Katie sure broke the mold.

  “Hey! Can we get some service around here?” Bernie’s voice filtered through from the front of the bar. “Or are you guys too busy havin’ a party back there? An’ if you are, can I join in?”

  Katie squeaked as she recalled she’d been in the middle of pouring beers, then headed for the door. On the way, though, she made sure to step in front of Blake and glare at him. A glare with a message, one that said “do not upset Honey.” Which wasn’t a problem. Blake had no intention of hurting his girl. Teasing and devilling was one thing, but upsetting a woman was so not a good route into her bed.

  “Um, you got a bit… Just here,” he offered, touching his temple as Honey bent over the sink and furiously scrubbed at her hair with a damp towel.

  “Yeah, yeah. Where haven’t I got the damn stuff? I swear, that hedgie—”

  “More like an elephant?” Blake offered with a quirk of his lips, his amusement fading as he checked out the curve of Honey’s ass while she wasn’t watching. What? He was a red blooded male, and the woman of his lust-filled dreams was bending over. His mind was entertaining all sorts of interesting possibilities about that one, and probably would be all night long.

  If there weren’t so many sharp objects—like kitchen knives—within Honey’s reach, he might have considered doing something about those dreams. Like stepping behind her while she had her hands full, and finally getting his palms on those curves.

  Honey, still bent over the sink, snorted with laughter. “Nah, even elephants have some grace. That girl? Pretty as a picture, skinny as a damn rake. I hate her,” she added affectionately as she stood up, grabbing a clean towel to dry her hair.

  Blake leaned a hip against the counter, his arms folded across his chest, and frowned. Despite her humor, there was an odd note in Honey’s voice. “Why do you hate her? Because she’s skinny?”

  Honey gave him a look. The ‘stupid man,
isn’t that obvious’ look. Blake shook his head. He’d never figure out why women were so fixated on starving themselves to attain a figure which wasn’t attractive or healthy. All those chick flicks and glossy magazines must addle their brain somehow.

  “She’s too skinny,” he stated bluntly, glancing away and around the kitchen. His voice was disinterested, as though he wasn’t bothered, but all he truly wanted to do was demand Honey not even think about dieting. “A guy likes something to hold onto. Some curves to run his hands over.”

  He turned his attention back to her, wanting to see how she took his statement. A deep red blush stole into her cheeks, and her gaze dropped to the floor between them. “Uh…”

  The heat of her flush drifted toward him, but so did something else. Something musky and delicious that called to his inner beast. He felt like pumping his fist in the air in triumph.

  Yeah, she wanted him.

  Chapter Three

  “Awww, c’mon Katie. It’s just a little scuffle. Nothing major.” Blake wheedled, trying to persuade a stubborn hedgehog around to his way of thinking as they walked to the back of the bar. Trouble was Katie had an immovable look on her face that was all too familiar. He tried a grin. Impish and mischievous, he knew Katie couldn’t resist him for long. “With the mood you’ve been in with me recently, I’d have thought you’d jump at the chance to rough me up a little.”

  Katie’s eyebrows crept up toward her hairline. “Booked a bed in the emergency room already, did you? Because that’s where I’ll put you if I ‘rough you up a little’. Blake, this is Honey we’re talking about. She’s my friend, and all you do is leer at her! Letch!”

  A low growl rumbled in her throat, the sound telling Blake her hedgie was near the surface. Katie always shifted when she was emotional. Which was one reason Blake stuck around. He could easily control his own change and stem hers.