The Witch's Familiar

about you. What is it about you? It’s like they know about your long—”
“Legs.” He was over six foot. But unlike his father, he wasn’t hefty like he’d swallowed a dumpster for breakfast. He had his mother’s leanness. Being lean didn’t mean he lacked the strength of a bear, though. If people were watching him fix their cars, he had to remember to make things appear heavy.
“That’s what I was going to say.” Ned gave a low chuckle.
Mack shook his head and stood. “I need another beer.”
“I want details.”
Mack scratched his jaw and gave Ned a not-so-subtle middle finger.
He made his way to the bar, nodding to the people he knew. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he ordered his beer. He didn’t need to turn around to know he was being observed. He hated this bit. The awkward hello and the quiet working out what was going on. It didn’t have to go further. The coin flip was just to see who got first shot. It had been a stupid thing that had continued even after they were both old enough to know better. Now it was tradition.
He wiped his palms on his shirt front as casually as he could then thanked the bartender for his drink. He needed to turn around and make eye contact again. Get the man to invite him over to his table. Ned would’ve walked straight over and sat down, but Ned didn’t have secrets to hide like he did. He couldn’t let people too close, even Ned, in case they discovered shapeshifters were real and freaked out. He didn’t want to be run out of town by God-fearing locals with pitchforks.
The beer was cold and sharp, and he hadn’t planned on having a second one, but here he was. He hadn’t planned on picking up either. Yet here he was. Did he really want to do this?
Just be polite. It didn’t have to be more, but he was most definitely being watched by City Boy. If he turned now… Their gazes clashed, and there was no mistaking the interest this time. The blond-haired man smiled.
Mack tested out his rusty smile and hoped it wasn’t terrifying. It seemed to work because the other man wasn’t glancing away this time. His gaze slid down Mack’s body, no doubt taking it the oil-stained jeans and the not-so-white undershirt. He should’ve buttoned up his plaid shirt on his way over to the bar, so he seemed more presentable. The man’s gaze resettled on Mack’s face for a heartbeat before he finally looked away.
That was definitely interest.
Was he interested? Yeah, he might be. The man had a nice smile and eyes, and while his hair was over-styled and probably cemented in place, that wasn’t a grave sin. The man in question finished his drink and stood. Was he leaving? No, he was walking toward the bar.
Toward him.
The dark hairs on Mack’s forearm lifted. As the man got closer, Mack was sure he smelled ozone, sharp like before a storm. Was this man human or other? Then he kind of forgot to breathe because the man watched him with green eyes that could kill.
He was so very interested now.
His skin prickled, and his heartbeat was too fast to be safe. He wasn’t brave enough to pick up his beer just in case he spilled it. Lust had bitten and bitten deep. He needed to say something. The man placed his order, but Mack wasn’t about to pay for it. Not yet. He needed to be sure.
City Boy got his drink and turned to face him. He had to tilt his chin a little to hold Mack’s gaze. “Know anywhere around here that makes a decent coffee?”
He only had instant. That probably didn’t count as decent, and it was definitely too forward. “You could try Billie’s Diner. Or there’ are a couple of places in the mall.”
The man considered him for a moment. His stare was far too intense, as though he knew too much about Mack already. Mack had thought this guy to be all hair gel and brand names, but clearly he had a soul of steel. That only spiked his interest further. Men like him didn’t turn up at his local bar every day of the week. Or even once a month.
“Got business here? Or is this an unfortunate stop over?” Mack hoped he sounded more casual than he felt. One night with this man seemed like a very good idea right now. His jeans were starting to get tight in all the wrong places. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed so badly. Lust could be like the overwhelming urge to shift. It was all-consuming.
Turning into a bear right now would be a bad move. If he didn’t manage to take this guy home, he might take off into the hills to terrorize some wildlife and blow off some steam, or he could stay home and watch porn. Neither seemed like a good substitute.
“Got a few days here. I’m Jude.” He put out his hand.
It would be rude not to shake. Jude’s grip was firm, and Mack swore that something sparked between them. His palm tingled. “Mack, I run Mackenzie Auto Repairs.”
It was then he realized Jude hadn’t expanded on why he was here. No one came to Mercy for fun. “I’d offer to show you around town, but that would only take twenty minutes.”
“I’m staying here but checking out the ghost town. Know any tour guides?”
Mack’s eyebrows lifted before he could school his features. “Why would you go out there?”
“It’s a hobby of mine. I like to visit ghost towns.” As if realizing that Mack’s interest had dropped, Jude flashed that smile again. “Everyone has some weird interest.”
For a moment Mack wondered if Jude knew what his was. He shook off the feeling. No one knew he was a shifter or came from a long line of shifters that could trace their lineage back hundreds of years—his mother was big