The two men sat at the bar, sipping whiskey as the stress of the day eased from their tired, sore muscles. As Cal lowered his glass to the ancient wooden bar, he said, “I said it before, but I'll say it again, anyway. That girl's a little spitfire." He laughed as he shook his head. Glancing over at his son, he grinned. “I think your wolf made a damn good choice."
Deacon felt his brows rise as he stared at his drink. “My wolf may have made the choice, but I'm not sure Purity is in agreement. We only met a couple of days ago, and well, everything has been one constant uproar since I put her in my car Wednesday night."
His father just looked over at him. “I saw her look at you," he said. “Trust me. She feels the same way." He took another sip of his drink, finishing it off in one long swall
