There's Something About Werewolves: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

get into her kitchen. Something other than ass backwards, preferably without a five- to ten-year prison sentence attached. Garrett doubted it though. No such lunacy existed outside of his special brand of crazy.
    He leaned against the corkboard in the small hallway outside Lennox’s office, and tapped a rhythm on the wall with the flats of his fists. Similar to the adage about chewing gum, Garrett couldn’t walk and berate himself at the same time. Muttering, “Idiot,” under his breath until the colossally stupid side of him got the message, took concentrated effort.
    A pair of teenage girls strutted past him, doing pouty imitations of seductive. Garrett scrubbed a hand over his chin. He’d been the lady’s love kind of guy his entire life. As a youngster he’d taken advantage. As a married man he’d been amused. As a widower who’d just gotten turned on for the first time in a decade—and who felt guilty as hell about it—the attention annoyed him. He mock-growled at the girls. They squeaked, giggling as they ran for the safety of the ladies’ room.
    He felt better. Time for a dose of truth, he hadn’t been trying to get into Lennox’s kitchen. He’d been trying to stay out from under her skirt.
    When did his tomboy start wearing high-heeled Mary Janes and ’50s-style outfits with flared skirts that showed off killer calves and an amazing ass? Garrett refused to think about how magnificent she’d been when she’d decided to protect Nox. He adored her more for that. She’d taken control and gotten his son away from the company of wolves without being asked. And she’d looked hella sexy doing it. He almost went back into her office. Instead he grabbed his own collar and yanked himself toward the kitchen.
    All his life he’d had a mantra and he lived by it: You’re born once, die once, and marry once—because you love only once. In his heart and mind he’d always be married. There’d be no other loves. Wolves mated for life. No matter how tempting, he couldn’t give Lennox the life she deserved.
    Garrett pushed through the swinging stainless steel door. Not more than five inches inside the kitchen, the fry cook flattened his toes on a mad dash for a smoking appliance.
    “ Mi scusi ,” the kid said in Italian. “Your toes are okay?” He flipped open the commercial waffle iron. A blackened mess greeted him.
    “My toes’ll live,” Garrett said, covering his nose. Burnt waffles weren’t the most appetizing smell. “You look like you need a hand.”
    “The black steam is no good, hey?” The young fry cook shook his head.
    Searching the open shelving, Garrett found a stack of paper diner hats. He considered putting one on, thought about his image, and tossed the hats back were he’d found them. Without protest, the fry cook handed him an apron.
    “Smoke is never a good sign when it comes to breakfast,” Garrett said, nodding his thanks. “You might want to check those eggs.”
    A laugh and a dive for the flattop preceded an introduction. “I’m Paolo. Lennox said it’s okay?”
    “I had to arm wrestle her for it but, yeah, I’ll help you out.”
    Paolo turned from the flattop with a spatula. He pantomimed thank you with his hands tented in prayer. “You any good?”
    “I taught your boss.”
    Paolo reached through the pass through, grabbed something, and tossed a menu to Garrett, Frisbee style. “You’re in good shape then.”
    Garrett caught the flying plastic between his palms. Flipping through the glossy pages, he took in the Peach Pit’s offerings. Omelets and pancakes dominated the menu. His specialties.
    “Let’s do this,” Paolo said.
    “Let’s do it.” Garrett started his prep work.
    “If you give me a minute, I’ll show you the recipes.” Paolo put a plate of sunny-side up eggs and tofu in the window.
    “Vegetarian not vegan.” Garrett heard the words within his soul, spoken by a smoky voice with a hint of amusement and a whole lot of sass. He braced himself for