Loving Styles [Brac Village 12] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (4 page)

Was Law offering? That would be the first time one of the Santiago brothers had offered. It seemed a little out of character for Law to do something like that. “No, why?”

Law appeared in the back room, a box lunch in his hand. His eyes flickered to the plain white box and then he handed it to Styles. “This was just delivered for you.”

“How do you know there’s not a bomb inside?” Styles grabbed it. He didn’t like Law, but hated him less than he hated Tryck. The guy didn’t fuck with him like Tryck did. He was decent toward Styles.

That still didn’t make them friends.

“Yeah, as many people as you piss off, maybe I should have called the bomb squad first.” The wolf walked out of the back, leaving Styles to stare at the box in his hand. He could smell chicken. It really seemed to be a lunch.

Tossing the box on the counter, Styles grabbed the rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. He had just finished up with his latest repair and had some downtime. Since he didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the day, he knew Law was going to tell him to clock out.

That had been their arrangement. That was something they had agreed upon when Styles first got this job. At the time Styles had insisted. He didn’t want to hang around here with wolves if he didn’t have anything to do.

It had been over a year since he started working here. He wanted to tell the brothers that he would work full shifts now, but Styles’s pride wouldn’t let him ask for the extra hours. He knew he was fucked up in the head. No one needed to point that out to him.

But what was done was done. Styles began to clean up the repair shop, putting the tools back where they needed to go, but he kept smelling the damn chicken. His stomach growled and Styles decided that he should eat the lunch, since it was delivered. Why let it go to waste.

Flipping the lid open, Styles spotted one piece of chicken and a single biscuit. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. There was writing on the inside of the lid. Someone had left him a message.

No, not someone. Styles knew exactly who had done this. Robby. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone? Images of a naked Robby popped into Styles’s head and he growled because those images were so disturbingly hot.

He curled his fingers in, pissed that he allowed those thoughts to enter his mind. His eyes dropped down to the writing on the box and Styles read it.

This is just one piece of chicken. If you want to see the rest, come to the diner at five p.m. Come alone and no chicken will be hurt. I’ll know if someone is following you. Don’t even think about calling the FBI in on this one or I’ll tear every piece of chicken apart.

Before he could stop it from happening, the side of Styles’s mouth twitched from a smile that was straining to break free. He closed the lid, hating himself for being impressed with Robby’s imagination and persistence.

He wasn’t going to go.

“If you are done, you can head out,” Law said from the hallway, his grey eyes landing on the box. “Was it a bomb?”

Styles shook his head as he grabbed the plain white box and headed to the time clock. “No.”

“Maybe next time,
alma perdida
,” Law said as he turned and walked away.

Styles would have gotten angry at Law’s words if he hadn’t seen the teasing in the man’s eyes before he had turned away. The guy had been trying to break the ice between them since Styles had started working here. Styles never let his guard down and didn’t allow anyone to get close—especially not a wolf.

Styles walked out of the bay in the back, heading toward his motorcycle. He started to toss the lunch in the Dumpster, but at the last second, pulled back. Just like the flowers, Styles couldn’t bring himself to toss away anything Robby had sent him.

With a fierce growl, Styles lunged the lunch high into the air, watching as it hit the building next door and then landed in a scattered mess on the ground. He spun around, refusing to go pick it up.

He really, really hated himself in that moment for allowing Robby to charm him, to get under his skin. He swung his leg over his bike, started it, and then tore from the back alley, heading home.

As he rode, Styles ignored the speed limits, ignored the fact that he was driving way too fast. There was a deep ache in his chest and at the moment, in the span of time he was drowning in, nothing mattered to him. There was a possibility that he could wreck his bike and kill himself in the process.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

He was spiraling out of control. His head was all fucked up, his thoughts scattered, his anger boiling him on the inside. He was
not
going to be mated to a wolf. Styles was
not
going to be charmed by a man with blondish-brown hair and big hazel eyes.

He made it home without becoming a part of the pavement. Styles parked his bike in the back and walked in the house through the side door. He bypassed everything and went straight to his bedroom where he paced back and forth on the wood floor.

How in the hell could he allow Robby to charm him? What had he been thinking? Robby was a wolf. There would be no charming, no dating, no romance, and no claiming. Styles became angrier when his cock perked up at the thought of taking Robby right there on his bed.

The anger became so hot that Styles damn near ripped his clothes off, tossing everything aside as he walked into his bathroom. He needed a shower. He needed to cool off and calm down.

Instead of soaking in the tub, Styles walked straight into the shower area and turned the water on. He had two showerheads, both sprays hitting him at once. He pressed the palms of his hands into the marble wall and lowered his head, wishing he could wash away all the hurt, all the pain, and every last damn memory he had of every one of those fucking wolves.

Suddenly Styles felt someone watching him. He didn’t bother to turn around because he knew who it was. “Go away, Reese.”

“Not when I can feel you hurting, my brother.” Reese’s deep, rich voice filled the bathroom, and Styles was somewhat put at ease. Reese had always been there for him. He had known the polar bear shifter longer than he knew any of the other men that lived in this house.

Reese had been the one to find him when his parents were killed and nursed Styles back to health. Reese had been the one who nearly lost his life helping Styles fight off the pack of wolves who attacked him in his early adulthood.

And it had been Reese who had fought at his side when those fucking grey wolves tried to destroy their small pack, making them run to Brac Village in the first place for help. The man was a fucking damn good friend to have, but Styles didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

It wasn’t that Reese was a superhero or anything like that. The man was just one hell of a friend. That’s who he was.

“Kenway tells me you found your mate.”

“And Kenway has a big fucking mouth,” Styles replied angrily. He finally turned to see Reese leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. The polar bear shifter didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. Styles never faulted the man. Hell, there were times when Styles needed a friend and somehow Reese knew and was there for him.

This may have been one of those times, but Styles didn’t want to talk about anything right now. He didn’t want to tell anyone about Robby. Styles didn’t want to talk about the man.

“Fate gave you a wolf shifter for a reason, Styles. It’s time to heal and let the past go.”

Styles spun around, gnashing his teeth at the large man. “Fuck you, Reese!”

A tight smile formed on Reese’s face. “You’re not my type.” The man didn’t seem to ever get flustered or upset about anything. There wasn’t a time when Styles could remember ever seeing Reese pissed.

Okay, that wasn’t true. Reese became demonic when he was fighting. But other than that, the man kept the coolest composure Styles had ever seen. He knew that Reese had his own inner demons, but the man never let it show.

He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Turning the water off, Styles turned and grabbed the towel Reese had brought in, wrapping it around his waist. “Look, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I won’t have a wolf shifter for a mate.”

“Too bad,” Reese said as his brown eyes followed Styles. “I checked him out at the bakery and I must say, he is definitely one good-looking ass man.”

Styles cut his eyes at Reese, hating the fact that his anger was coming back because Reese thought Robby was hot. Reese shouldn’t be looking at his mate. Damn it! Robby was not his mate, nor would he ever be.

But jealously sank its claws into Styles. Reese was a damn good friend to have, but the man was also a voyeuristic man to the truest sense. He also didn’t bat an eye being around his friends when they were naked, like now. Styles knew that Reese wouldn’t think twice about seeing Robby naked and that just pissed him off.

Reese gave a deep laugh. “You are mad because you think I want to see you two having sex, that I want to see this gorgeous man naked. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be seething on the inside.”

Styles moved until he was standing in Reese’s face, their noses almost touching. “Stay out of this.”

A fine tic started in Reese’s jaw. He knew that—although Reese was kinky as fuck—the man didn’t like his personal space crowded. Styles took a deep breath and backed off. He shouldn’t be taking his anger out on his friend.

His feelings were close to the surface. Styles needed to get a grip. “Stop staring at my towel, pervert.”

Reese grinned. “I told you that you’re not my type.”

“Yeah, I’m not slim, blond, or twinkish in any way.”

Reese moved from the counter and headed toward the door. “Just get dressed. Xavier keeps asking for his Uncle Size.”

That made Styles chuckle. The little half fey, half human couldn’t pronounce Styles’s name for shit. Ruttford often came by because he and Reese were good friends. For some damn strange reason, Xavier had taken a liking to Styles. The kid kept calling him Size. Styles liked the nickname—but only when Xavier called him that. He would kick anyone else’s ass if they even attempted to use it.

After dressing, Styles went downstairs to see Diablo, Steele, and Ruttford on the back deck at the table. Steele was holding his swaddled son as Xavier played in the grass. As soon as he walked outside, Xavier squealed, shouting, “Size!”

Styles dropped in the grass, picking up one of the toys as he began to play with the little guy, feeling a peace finally settling over him.

* * * *

Had he really expected Styles to show? Yeah, he had. Robby pushed from the booth, giving up after waiting one full hour past the time he had told Styles to be here.

“He didn’t show?” Tangee asked as he brought Robby another water.

“How do you know I was waiting on someone?”

Tangee smiled. “We used to say that nothing stays a secret in the Den. But now us guys at the Den say, nothing stays a secret in the village.”

That wasn’t comforting. Robby wasn’t sure he liked everyone knowing the trouble he was having with Styles. He knew Styles would probably have a fit if the coyote knew that everyone was fully aware of what was—or wasn’t, to be more precise—going on between them.

“I’ll catch you later.” Robby walked out of the diner, feeling dejected. He knew he was going to have a long battle on his hands, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to feel wounded.

It had been a week since he discovered that he had a mate and Styles hadn’t budged one bit. Maybe it was time to turn up the heat a tad. Robby had concluded that Styles had gone ballistic in the bakery because finding out that his mate was a wolf had been shocking.

Styles had plenty of time to get over that shock. Maybe it was time Robby paid him a visit. He knew where the Manchester place was. Robby just hoped that Styles didn’t try to kill him.

He drove over there, but the closer he got to the place, the less confident Robby became. He wasn’t going to give up on Styles, but all kinds of scenarios played in his mind on how this could turn out.

Pulling into the drive, Robby just sat there for a moment, wondering what he was going to say to the man. Well, there was only one way to find out. Robby eased the driver’s door open, glancing up at the house.

It was beige with white trim, flowers decorating a lot of the surface. There were even pink ones lining the front sidewalk. The lawn was well manicured, and the place looked beautiful at night, the first and second floor porch lit up.

His palms began to sweat as he walked up the front walkway and climbed up the steps to the porch. He stood there worrying that Styles would tell him to fuck off, or worse, attack him.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Before he could turn and leave, the front door opened. A man with pretty brown skin and brown eyes stared down at him, his face inscrutable. “Can I help you, Robby?”

Wait, he remembered this guy. He had come to the bakery a time or two. What was his name? He thought hard until he remembered the man’s name was Reese. “Is Styles home?”

Reese moved outside, making Robby take a few steps back. The guy closed the door behind him and then leaned against the house, crossing his arms over his chest. “Does he know you’re coming?”