Page 1 of Wolves Always Bite

ChapterOne

JEREMY

I’dalways wished my life was a little more adventurous, although maybe not as adventurous as my best friend’s life.Ashmight live in an eensy weensy little town calledWillowLake, but his life was certainly not boring—not only had he found, and was currently shacked up with, the man of his dreams, but he’d become a local hero when he’d stopped thieves from robbing a local business.He’dbeen shot and everything.Definitelyhero material.Notlike me.

NotthatIwanted a bullet hole in my body.Orto be a hero.Butit was hard not to feel completely dull when your best friend was so amazing.Mycat,ClawieMcClawson, might thinkIwas the hero of his world, but no one else did.

Myidea of adventure was a little different.

Iwanted to befriend mythical creatures, play with forbidden magic, and meet my fated mate.Yes, okay,Iknew my desire to live inside a fantasy romance novel was a little unrealistic.Butwhere was the joy in living a life if it was boring and predictable and overwhelmingly blah?

Sincemy dreams were a little fantastical,Iwas willing to compromise.Lookat me being all reasonable and shit.IfIcouldn’t frolic with mythical beasts, dabble in magic, and sex up a perfect-for-me mate,Iwould settle for writing novels.ButIhadn’t quite figured out how to make that happen yet.Comingup with ideas wasn’t the problem.Theproblem was everything else, like getting all the way to “TheEnd.”Whichsucked because people would adore my stories.Iknew they would.

Buta month or so ago, whenI’dgotten stuck on yet another story—which meantIhad fifty-six unfinished stories, including one that was only three sentences long, because, yes,I’dbeen keeping a tally—at the same time as my landlord started demanding my rent,Iwent goblin mode for the rest of the week.I’deaten dried ramen noodles like they were potato chips and binge watched home renovation shows likeIwas a forty-year-old homeowner who thoughtDIYinga basement renovation was a good idea.Iwasn’t proud of how long it’d taken beforeI’dhad my come-to-Jesusmoment and accepted something had to change…

Okay, notsomething.Itwasme.Ihad to change.

Thatweek had been bad.

Clawiehad been thoroughly disgusted with not only my eating habits but my lack of proper hygiene.Icould tell by the way he twitched his whiskers at me.Iwas also sure he had started plotting how to kill me afterIsuggested he might have to switch to a generic brand of cat food.Iswore that cat understood everythingIsaid some days.

Idon’t know why reality had to be soul-sucking, but it was obvious that justknowingpeople would love my yet-to-be-written novels wouldn’t pay my bills… or feed my cat in the way to which he was accustomed.

SoI’dgone looking for a job.Areal one.Sigh.

Unfortunately, my ability to finish a book was about as good as my ability to stick to one job, one type of career, or one topic of study at university.Inother words,Icouldn’t do it.Iloved school.I’dlove to stay at university for the rest of my life…Well, if it wasn’t so expensive, that is.I’dmanaged to do six years so far, but only had three partially completed degrees in completely different fields of study to show for it.Istill didn’t understand why that was a problem.Therewas just so much to learn and do.HowcouldIpossibly stick to only one thing?

Apparentlyemployers didn’t rejoice at the diversity of my amazing portfolio.Theyhad the gall to suggest, in thinly veiled comments,Icouldn’t be depended upon to commit to a job if they hired me.

That’sokay.Ididn’t want their stuffy jobs anyway.

Whichled me to the summer jobI’dactually been able to nab: assistant salesperson for a mobile vintage retail business.Inother words,I’dbeen hired to go to farmers’ markets, flea markets, country fairs, and every other kind of outdoor venue and sit behind a table filled with old crap my mom would have thrown away if she’d found it lingering anywhere near her.

Withseven kids,Momhad decided long ago she couldn’t be sentimental about every single thing we created and brought home—that much stuff wouldn’t fit in the house.Shewas ruthless about throwing things away.Ifwe hadn’t used something in a year, it was gone.Andshe definitely didn’t have a use for knick-knacks or tchotchkes or other trinkets.We’dbeen warned never to buy things like that for her.Ever.AndIsaw her point.Ifall seven of us got her little figurines or magnets or paperweights or whatever, the house would be overwhelmed in no time.

Needlessto say, antiques and collectables had never been a part of my life.

Forthe first few days of my job,I’dbeen curious and excited about learning something new—history was one of my partial degrees, after all—butIquickly learned my mom was right:Noteverything should be saved because it was old.But, hey, the job paid my rent and keptClawie’sbowls full of gourmet cat food, soIshouldn’t complain.Itsure beat driving the same route to the same office to see the same people making the same small talk every single day.So, on paper, the job sounded perfect for me, or at least somewhat interesting.Wewent to new places every week, there were always different people to see and talk to, andIcould dress howIwanted.

However, after this many weeks at the job,Iknew it was only a good fit in theory.Thereality didn’t match.

Istared out the windshield as my boss drove us to yet another weekend market.IwishedIcould pretend we were on a grand adventure or an exciting weekend road trip, but we didn’t have road snacks or a playlist or any of the other requisite supplies.AndIwas pretty sure my boss didn’t like me, so there was no singing or jokes or games ofIspy.Nope.Thiswas work, and my boss did her best to make sureIknew it.

Andwhat didIhave to look forward to?Sittingin the middle of another market, sweating under the sun, and pretending to care if the so-called antiques on the table in front of me sold.Notsuper stimulating.Itdidn’t help that my boss,BabetteSmith, was a strange-looking woman who was the personification of grumpiness.Shewas short and squat and had a scowl that regularly made children cry.Ifmy life was a fantasy novel, she would be cast as a troll demanding payment for anyone stupid enough to want to pass by her table.Andshe wasn’t shy about pointing her grumpiness in any and every direction… including mine.

It'snot like we had to be friends to do my job, but it would have been nice to be on friendly terms since it was just the two of us at these markets.AndwhenBabettestared at me like she couldn’t figure out why she’d hired me, it made me want to ingratiate myself with her even more.Sofar, buying her coffees or candied popcorn or mini donuts from the other vendors hadn’t done the trick, but she hadn’t fired me yet, so she couldn’t hate me that much, right?Besides, who didn’t like mini donuts?Theywere little deep-fried, sugar-coated rings of goodness.

Maybeshe just had a really intense resting bitch face, and her scowl was actually her smile.

Yeah, probably not, but a guy could pretend.

Isupposed the job wasn’t entirely bad.Besides, contrary to what my boss seemed to think, being in a good mood was a choice, one thatIwhole-heartedly embraced.Witha forecast of a clear sky and unseasonably warm temperatures,Iwas looking forward to soaking up some sunshine.Mybackpack was full of water bottles, books, and sunscreen.Imay not know how to plot a book, butIwas definitely organized when it came to my work.

Myboss, however, was clearly not feeling the good vibes.Sheusually muttered a word or two whileItalked.Today, she only offered four grunts.Yes.Ihad counted them.Shewas the worst conversationalist in the world.Ididn’t understand how she stayed in business.Itcertainly had nothing to do with her social skills.

Thedrive to the country market should have only taken a couple of hours, but she’d told me to be ready much, much earlier than that.Soshe had only herself to blame for my higher-than-normal coffee intake, which had led to me carrying on an animated, albeit one-sided, conversation through the countryside.

Wehad traveled south from the city for about two hours whenIsaw the familiar sign forWillowLake, where myBFFAshlived.Oh.Thatreminded me.Iwanted to ask his opinion about my latest story, the one inspired by his new boyfriend.Idon’t know why, butIlooked at that guy and thought werebear and voilà a story idea was born.Iclicked into our text thread.