Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
If the way Zac’s eyes lit up was any indication, it was the right question to ask. “Hell, yeah. The Grizzlies are the best.” Grizzlies being a bear shifter football team that was playing in the game they were going to watch.
“Who’s your favorite player?”
Makenna listened as the boys bonded over football. It was almost cute how hard Ryan found it to simply have a casual conversation. He was the epitome of socially challenged. But she liked that he didn’t wear a social mask—too many people did, too many people said and did what they thought others wanted them to. It was difficult to build a friendship with someone based on falsities.
As she watched Ryan push past his comfort zone in order to get to know Zac, she saw just how important the kid was to him, which made her smile. Ryan Conner, she thought, was a good guy. But not a well mannered, safe, comforting kind of good. No, Ryan was hard, dominant, and dangerous—someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if the need arose. But he had strong pack values and a solid sense of duty that she admired.
By the time they arrived at the stadium, the boys were much more relaxed with each other. She remained silent—except when it came time to order food and drinks, of course. She noticed that a lot of females were ogling Ryan and even sending him welcoming smiles. Tramps. Harsh, yeah, but it wasn’t like Makenna had said it aloud, so she figured it didn’t count.
Ryan led them down to their row and ushered her and Zac to move along first . . . but she came to an abrupt halt as she reached her seat.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ryan.
“I can’t sit in this seat.”
“Why?”
“It’s number thirteen.” And he wanted her to sit in it? Was he crazy?
Ryan spoke slowly, like he was talking to a mentally challenged person. “Yes, like you said, it’s a number.”
“An unlucky number.”
“There’s no such thing as luck.” Ryan shook his head, resisting the pointless urge to argue with her over the subject. She was clearly insane, and he should just accept it. “I’ll take that seat, you have mine.”
Makenna almost felt bad placing him in danger by swapping seats. Almost. Leaning back, she soaked up the expectant atmosphere. The crowd was hyped, ramping up the anticipation. She sipped at her Coke through her straw. “Damn, it’s hot.”
Wedged between them, Zac grinned. “Dude, these seats are fleek. How did you get such good tickets so late?”
“I already had them. Dominic and Trick were going to come with me.” They hadn’t been too happy to lose their tickets and had pointlessly complained. Ryan had stared at them until they had thrown their hands up and walked away. “Are you any good at football?”
“I’m all right. I play with Colton and some of the other guys at the shelter sometimes.”
That name made his wolf growl; he viewed the male as a rival. Personally, Ryan didn’t believe Makenna was dating Colton. That didn’t mean he wanted to hear about him.
“Makenna used to come along and watch . . . but they banned her from the games.”
Ryan blinked. “Banned?”
Makenna adjusted her sunglasses. “It was totally unwarranted.”
Zac laughed. “You punched the ref, and that was before the game even started.”
“He told Cady she couldn’t play because girls were too fragile for football. I was merely proving to the chauvinist asshole that not all females are fragile.”
There was genuine outrage in her voice, and Ryan was getting the impression that Makenna was a female who would stubbornly stand behind any key causes that she believed in. He liked that.
Originally, he’d suspected that she was using the shelter as a place to hide or to seek redemption. But now he was thinking . . . “Supporting the shelter is your way of fighting for loners, isn’t it?” Those shifters had no rights, no protection, and had a terrible reputation—it was an injustice that the Makenna he was coming to know would despise. Maybe because nobody fought for her.
Makenna didn’t like that he’d read her so well. She gave him a breezy smile. “The shelter’s pretty cool, right?”
She was good at evasiveness, Ryan acknowledged. It was irritating. “Do you often answer a question with a question?”
“Do you think I do?”
He barely fought the urge to grind his teeth. Instead, he bit into his hot dog.
“Makenna told me you’re a tracker,” said Zac. “Where did you learn to track?”
“One of the enforcers in my old pack taught me when I was a kid.”
“A kid?”
“I spent a lot of time with the enforcers.” At first it had been because his mother frequently dumped him on them—wanting his father, who was a trainee, to care for him. Ryan hadn’t minded. He’d been fascinated by it. So they had given him the same training, taught him to fight, to hunt, and—later—to kill. Those enforcers had given him the skills and confidence he had today as well as a talent he could take pride in. At home, he’d felt like an inconvenience and a burden. Being around the enforcers had given him a sense of belonging, made him feel useful and worth something.