“Your parents make a match for you? That’s fucked up.”
“It’s not…effed up…if you’re like me and can’t find a match on your own. Who is gonna deal with all of this mess?” she asked, swirling her finger at herself. “I can’t even shop during the day. Can’t talk to people.”
“You’re talking to me just fine.”
“You’re different, and I’m tipsy.”
Well, that actually made him feel pretty good. She’d called him different. He was okay with being different. But as she sipped her water and dared a look directly at him with those pretty, soft brown eyes, he was struck by the moment. He could see her future stretched depressingly in front of her. He imagined her in this loveless match with some faceless fox shifter who would keep her stagnant forever. Nox wanted to kill her future mate, and he didn’t even know him.
When a snarl escaped his chest, Nevada flinched and dropped her gaze. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“It ain’t you. Best you don’t talk about your parents making matches anymore. My shifter culture doesn’t like that.” He needed an out before he blabbed about how protective of her he felt. She’d told him any pairing outside of the fox shifter culture would be doomed. Like a damn Romeo and Juliet kind of doomed. That, and he wasn’t made to pair up, so even that thought was terrifying. She shouldn’t be on his radar, but here he was imagining ten different ways to fuck her and make her not see anyone but him. He was the real missile, aimed straight for her, and she didn’t even realize how much destruction he could cause. He needed to walk away, forget about her, bounty hunt the shit out of Vyr, get him thrown in shifter prison, then blow this Popsicle stand like he did every other town he hunted in. It was safest for him, but somehow, more importantly, it would be safest for Nevada, too. She was unregistered? She sure as hell didn’t need Vyr here drawing human attention. And he would. He was the least careful dragon in existence. He gave zero fucks about burning property, and he was a loud and proud man-eater.
Nox had a job to do. Get Vyr the hell out of here, forget Nevada and her fucked-up matchmaking fox den, and go back home to his trailer and solitary life deep in Damon’s Mountains where a loner like him belonged.
“Gotta go. Your cookies weren’t horrible,” he muttered, throwing down a few twenties for the drinks and nachos and a good tip.
He was about to walk away when he grabbed the tin of baked goods, and for a split second, he only wanted it for the excuse to track her down and return it when the cookies were gone. He’d already put a tracker on her car at the grocery store. He didn’t even know why he’d done it. He’d just wanted the option of seeing her again. Bad Nox.
In a rush, he set the container on the bar top and strode away without looking at Nevada. He tossed her a two-fingered wave over his shoulder though, which was more of a goodbye than he gave most people.
“Do you want to come to a family dinner with me?” Nevada blurted out behind him.
Well, that stopped him in his tracks. He must’ve heard her wrong. Slowly, he turned. “You want me to come meet your parents?” Hell must’ve frozen over. No one had ever invited him to meet the parents.
Nevada looked like a frightened rabbit. “It’s just…”
Her voice was soft as a breeze and even Nox, with his oversensitive hearing, could barely hear her. He took a few steps closer. “It’s just what?”
“It’s just I’m the black sheep of my family, and I hate going to these things. We could just go as friends, but if people say mean things, you would tell them to F off. But you would say the whole word.”
“What whole word?” he asked innocently. Say it!
“F-U-C-K,” she spelled out. Damn. Clever fox.
“Why are they mean to you?”
Nevada dipped her gaze to his boots and frowned the cutest fucking little frown he’d ever seen. “I think because I’m different. Different isn’t good for us. They don’t like that I can’t talk to people easily. And everyone else is tough, so I’m easy to pick on.”
She was asking for help. For him to act as a buffer. He gave a glance to the door and sighed. He should’ve run sooner. “If I say yes, it’s just because I like to fight and your dinner sounds like maximum drama.”
“The maxim…est.”
“And also free food.”
“Fancy free food. The special on the menu is sea bass this week.”
“It’s not because I like you, or care at all, or give a shit about protecting you,” he lied.
Nevada nodded, and her eyes got round like twin moons. “Okay.”
“I want more cookies as payment.”
“Deal.”
“And a BJ.”
Nevada’s cheeks went cherry red, and she tucked her chin to her chest.
Time for another lie. “That was a joke.”
“Oh. Right,” she said with a forced laugh. “I knew that.”
Spending more time with her was a bad idea. Unfortunately, Nox was a super-fan of bad ideas. “When is the dinner?”
“Tomorrow night. H-here-here’s the address,” she stammered as she rifled through her little purse. With shaking hands, she held out a business card.
Nox strode back toward her and yanked it out of her fingers as rudely as he could so she wouldn’t fall in love with him. “Foxburg Country Club,” he read aloud. He laughed. “A country club? Woman, have you seen this?” He circled a finger around his bearded face and then pulled up the shoulder of his favorite plaid shirt. “This fine specimen of a man was not made for country clubs.”
“You’ll be the most interesting person there.” Nevada’s eyes were on the ground again, and goddamn, he wished he could have seen her face better when she’d uttered that.
“Okay. What time?”
“Really?” she said too loud. “I mean…six o’clock. Wear whatever you want.”
Nox snorted. “Okay, I’ll probably be wearing this for the third day in a row.” She didn’t look nearly disturbed enough so he threw in, “And also cut-off short shorts. I’m not shaving my legs either. You’re welcome.”
“Great. Great, that’s great. I’ll wear something to match you.”
Well, that was a surprising answer. “Matching is for losers.”
She parted her lips to say more, but Nox turned away and left the building before she could say anything else or see the smile on his lips because how fucking cute was it that she wanted to match a monster like him? They were the worst match in the history of ever. This was going to be a disaster. An epically fun disaster.
A country club with a classy lady in matching outfits.
Dad was going to shit himself laughing.
Chapter Five
Fuck off, the sign read.