Chapter 4: Drink Some More

Fred filled order after order of cutesy named Valentine's Day drinks. She would never admit it, but she wished, for just one moment, that she was one of the girls on the receiving end of one of these Shotz-Thru-the-Heart or Kiss-Me-Nows. Those were the days, when she could just have some fun. Not worry about what came next. Back when she still believed in true love and happily-ever-afters.

Not anymore. She was still reeling from her latest relationship disaster. Her live-in boyfriend, Josh, literally skipped out on her. No note, no phone call, not even a text. He was just gone. Poof. Like magic. Only it wasn't magic. It was a con. One she should have seen coming. You should have known better, Fred.

Not only did he disappear without a trace, he also stole every cent she'd saved the last few years. He emptied their joint bank account, packed up, and took off. He even took her new memory foam pillows. The jerk.

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, her new landlord paid her a visit. And not a friendly one. Turns out her rat bastard of an ex hadn't paid their rent in three months! It was a good thing the full moon was two weeks away, otherwise her Wolf would've hunted down Josh and tore him to shreds. She still might.

This would have never happened if she hadn't been so desperate for a normal life. She let herself be persuaded by his not-so-subtle hints that he move-in with her. He was a smooth-talker, she'd give him that! But it was all a lie.

"Hey baby, my lease is up and I'm always at your place anyway, why don't I move in? I love waking up to you. It'll be great! Making love every night and we could even ride into town to work together."

Except he never did. While she worked two jobs, he had none. He convinced her it was temporary. When weeks turned into months, he told her not to worry, he would take care of the house while he looked for a job.

He'd shop, cook, clean, do the laundry. So, it made sense to open a new checking account with him. She could transfer her paychecks and he'd sort out everything. He'd pay the rent and the bills. She wouldn't have to worry about it.

Yeah. Right. She should have gotten the hint that everything wasn't hunky-dory when she found herself doing laundry at two o'clock in the morning most nights while he was nowhere to be seen. Ugh, Fred you are so dumb!

If Mr. Ingles, her former landlord, was still alive he would have understood why she was late with the rent. As it was, her late landlord's distant nephew inherited the property and took control immediately. He wasn't interested in listening to anything she had to say. He wanted her back rent and he wanted her our out. Period.

Of course, Fred figured, his end goal was to sell the old building for a mint. It was, after all, prime beach-front property. Her time working in a realtor's office taught her the land alone was worth millions.

The home itself had character and style, though it was a little weather worn. The paint was peeling, and the shutters were broken in places. The roof needed repairs if not replacing, and some of the windows were rusted shut from the salt in the air.

It would take a fortune to get the building back in shape. But what she wouldn't give to see it the way it looked back in its hay day. Mr. Ingles had framed pictures of the place back in the early sixties all over his section of the house. It was glorious. Fred wished she could afford it. The house was perfect!

She loved waking up to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. The smells of the beach and the sea tantalized her enhanced senses. It was beautiful. Even in winter. There was nothing quite like snow falling on the ocean. She begged her new landlord, Mr. Kaepernick, to reconsider, but his answer was a big, fat, resounding, "No!"

"Pack up and get out or I'll have the Sheriff's department pay you a visit. And you better pay me what you owe before you go moving any furniture."

To think she sent the creep a condolence basket when his uncle passed. She even baked the cookies herself. And she hated to cook! Now, he was going to kick her out without a leg to stand on and hardly any warning. And he was threatening to go to the cops! Just great!

"I'm so going to kill Josh!" she kept her voice low, but her boss still heard her. She felt him move towards her and new she was in for a mild scolding. Ugh. Werewolves!

"Stop talking to yourself, Fred, and get the lead out! The bar is crowded with thirsty customers. Kill Josh on your own time," Mike stalked towards her and grabbed a case of cold longnecks from the top of the pile she had forgotten about behind her.

He slammed it down on the counter with just enough force to startle her out of her stupor. So dramatic! She shook her head as he pushed bottle after bottle of craft IPAs, Pale Ales, and Porters into the ice filled stainless-steel coolers behind the bar. Freezing cold water dripped over the sides as he shoved in the beer. Fred used a rag to dry them off.

The only problem with the newest additions to The Thirsty Dog was keeping them stocked. She liked the look of the trendy open-top coolers. It certainly made her job easier. Bending down constantly to figure out which beer they had, and which bottles were cold was time consuming. Especially for impatient customers. Like the ones there tonight. Holidays were always crowded at The Thirsty Dog.

The coolers displayed the beer bottles, kept them cold, and within easy reach. Tonight, it was her job to keep them filled and, so far, she failed miserably. She let the coolers go down to empty not once, but twice. Yikes. Get your head on straight, girl.

"Sorry, boss, I was making Bite-Bombs for that group over there. Mason's newest flavor, Cinnamon Fire, is his best yet."

"That it is," Mike looked at the crowd. She was glad to see him here tonight. Her boss lost his mate and their baby three years ago. Childbirth was difficult for Wolves, and in some cases fatal. Fred bit her lip. He was a good guy and she wished him all the happiness in the world. As if he felt her thoughts, he nodded his head in her direction and continued to watch the bar.

The small acknowledgement felt right. They weren't exactly close. Mike knew where to draw the line between employer and employee, but their Pack bonds sometimes allowed feelings and flashes of memories to come through.

Jordan, the other bartender on duty, shot her a thumbs-up. He was probably listening in to. He was a member of the Pack too, so he had no trouble hearing her conversation with Mike even as he took orders.

Jordan was cute as hell, with thick, dark hair and piercing brown eyes. He was lean and muscular with long legs and a fantastic build, but he was a little too cocky. Bottom line, guys that were conceited were not to Fred's tastes.

Jordan flirted shamelessly with anyone of the opposite sex who was within the vicinity. As if he read her mind, he turned around and gave her an exaggerated wink and blew her a kiss before setting up a round of tequila shots.

Fred laughed and shook her head. Dope! She stopped dating Wolves when she was around twenty. She wanted to improve her odds at finding true love and figured she'd never get anywhere with any of her kind. They were such dogs anyway! Pun intended. Not that dating normals turned out to be so great either.

Maybe she should try dating women? She looked back at Jordan and took a sec to admire his firm backside. Uh-uh. His ass was perfectly outlined in the tight black jeans he wore as part of his uniform. Nope, no way, she shook her head and sighed.

It was guys for her. All the way. Damn it! But cute ass or not, Jordan didn't really do anything for her. They were buddies, Packmates, co-workers and nothing more. The first night he worked there he hit on her, but she made it clear she was only interested in being friends with Pack. He understood and backed off immediately.

That was one thing she loved about her Pack, the Macconwood Pack. Respect and loyalty above all else. That was the unspoken motto. Right now, she just wished she got that little tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach when she looked at Jordan's ass or anyone for that matter.

Was Josh right about her? Did she attract misery and loneliness? Was she dried up on the inside? Ugh, maybe she was broken or something?

She read an article online about women whose libido diminished after they reached their late twenties. Maybe it was true? Or maybe she just wasn't good at sex? Aaahh! Maybe she just wasn't sexy? Or attractive to the opposite sex? OMG! Josh hadn't touched her in weeks before he left town!