Free Betting on Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 2) by Roxie Noir

shuddered.
    “You’ve got my lipstick all over your face,” she said, and then the spell was broken, and he took a step back, the now-familiar grin on his lips.
    “Yeah,” he said. “Go keep Jack company and get out of the men’s room.”

Chapter Seven

    Jack

    As Kirsten walked toward the bathrooms, both Jack and Houston stared at her, moving across the bar toward the hall with the bathrooms, and neither spoke until she disappeared.
    Then Jack leaned forward, putting his head on Houston’s shoulder.
    “Fuck,” he said. “I’m drunk enough to get married by Elvis.”
    I’m not sure I’d have to be drunk , he thought, but since he was drunk, he couldn’t be sure.
    “Same,” said Houston.
    They both paused.
    “What if we just do it?” asked Houston. “This is it, right?”
    “What if we broke ourselves?” said Jack, his head still on Houston’s shoulder, slumped against the other man. “What if we just can’t tell anymore?”
    He swallowed.
    “This feels different, but what if we’re wrong, because we didn’t wait?”
    Houston just shrugged.
    “We’re not wrong,” he said.
    Good enough for me , thought Jack. He’d always trusted his mate’s judgment better than he trusted his own. Houston had never ridden rodeo, for starters, never put his life on the line for eight seconds of glory. He was the one who’d started the bed and breakfast ranch, the one who was solid and dependable, who kept the books.
    There were days that he woke up next to Houston and still couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten.
    “Let’s do this, then,” Jack said. “I love you.”
    “I love you, too,” Houston said, and Jack straightened up and kissed him, putting one hand tenderly on his chin as the world spun, slowly.
    Across the bar, a couple of people stared, but Jack couldn’t have cared less.
    “I gotta take a leak,” said Houston, and he got up from the table. “You’ve got lipstick all over your face, by the way.”
    Then Houston sauntered to the bathroom. Jack made a face and picked up a spoon, looking at his reflection in the back of it. He wet a napkin with the condensation from an empty glass and set to work cleaning the lipstick from his face. He’d nearly gotten it all off when Kirsten came back, looking slightly flushed, her own lipstick totally gone.
    Without asking, he pulled her down to sit sideways on his lap, catching her before she fell backward, the feel of her body against his making him ache . She wrapped her arms around his neck.
    “I’m pretty drunk,” she announced, as though it were news. “You might have to carry me.”
    “The whole way?” he asked. “It’s a pretty good hike.”
    “Well, just hold me up,” she said, kicking her feet out into the aisle of the restaurant, getting a dirty look from a passerby. “That’ll do, I guess.”
    “Think you can make it to Elvis?”
    Before she could respond, Houston came back from the bathroom. Even though he looked almost as neat as ever, Jack saw the telltale signs that he was ridiculously drunk: his shirt was tucked in sloppily, his belt buckle just off center, and he walked in a casual, loose-limbed way. He offered one hand to Kirsten, and she took it, hopping off of Jack’s lap, and Jack followed.
    A couple of heads turned as they walked past the now-crowded bar, some female, some male, but Jack didn’t look twice. They rounded the corner, and there was Elvis again.
    Suddenly, Jack was nervous.
    I’ve never done this before, he realized. With Houston we never talked about it, formally, we just met and fucked and then a month later I moved in.
    “It’s y’all three!” Elvis shouted. He dropped rhinestone-covered sunglasses in front of his eyes and pointed, rotating onto one knee. “Whaddaya say now? Had enough to drink?”
    Kirsten squeezed both their hands and laughed. Jack held his breath, looking at Houston over Kirsten’s head. His mate nodded, just barely.
    Jack didn’t give himself time to think, he just bent