If only one of them had been his mate. Ryder wasn’t sure why he was in a find-a-mate space, but he knew in his gut he was. It wasn’t like he was Warrick, who was the oldest and supposed to find his omega mate first, dammit.
But he was feeling an urgency to go out and do the thing, regardless.
So.
He would.
He grabbed his jacket, waving a hand at his brothers as he stepped out of the front room. Warrick’s housekeeper, Leela, smiled as he went out through the kitchen, her apron covered in flour as she made bread things for tomorrow.
She was so damn good to them. Which was why they ordered out at least a few days a week. So she could catch up. They were bears. They ate a lot.
He straddled his vintage Indian bike when he got out to where it was parked outside the garage, then strapped on his helmet. He gunned it, pulling away and heading for the highway. Traffic wasn’t awful, which these days in Denver was a super-nice luxury.
On a bike he could get away with a lot, but he still had to obey the rules of the road, right? And traffic was a mood-killer. Nothing like clogging what should be the open road with slow-moving crappy cars.
The ride took about twenty minutes, and he tried to let his mind quiet, let the roar of the engine and the hum of the road pull him into a meditative state. Something had to stop this damn itch. It was as if his skin was buzzing with something. Stress. Need. Worry.
He had no idea what, and it was driving him nuts.
When he pulled into the Hogg, the neon pig ears glaring out around the wordsBeers, Bikes, Bites,he sighed, parking his beast of a bike and shaking his head at himself when he pulled off his helmet.
Time for a beer.
Maybe that would make things better.
Colt, who was his favorite bouncer, grinned at him when he sailed through the door. “Ryder! Hey, man. Didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
He smiled back. “Dude, you know it’s Warrick who comes in to gamble with that shark of a wolf and his kitty.”
“Sure, but it’s Thursday. Slow as molasses in July.”
“Something told me I needed to show. The beer calling, I guess.”
“Ah, the siren call of hops. I understand.” Colt blinked at him, dark eyes gleaming. “Go on in, there’s not hardly anybody here, and Wilder’s working the bar.”
Ryder nodded and grinned. These were his two favorite bar staff, and they both had time to be chatty. He should remember to come in on Thursdays more often.
Wilder looked up as he walked in, inclined his head and smiled. “Hey, man. I don’t see you often on Thursdays. IPA?”
“You know it. I just needed a beer and some company, so I came on in. Slow huh?”
“Deadly, but that’s cool. It happens.” Wilder pulled him a beer with relaxed ease. “Makes a wolf appreciate the busy nights. Plus we get cleaning done.”
Ryder crawled up on a barstool, chuckling. “You working the big poker game tomorrow?”
Wilder pursed his lips and snorted. “God no. No, one of Thiago’s little rescues is. I think he’s like a pigeon or something, possibly a sparrow. Or what are those big birds that keep falling over themselves? Oh yeah, albatross. He could possibly be an albatross shifter.” Wilder’s eyes went comically wide. “I don’t know, but he’s working it. It’s the only job he can do without getting murdered, because if he breaks stuff in there, I don’t have to worry about it or clean it up or pay for it.”
Ryder just sat there for a second and hmphed, because, honestly, what was he going to say?
“So seriously, why a Thursday?” Wilder added.
He snorted, shaking it off. “I had itchy feet.”
“Uh-oh. That either means it’s time for a road trip or something big is coming.” Wilder set his beer in front of him. He and his brothers had a monthly tab at the Hogg, but he would tip out before he left. The bartenders always needed the ready cash.
“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.” It seemed like nothing big had happened in his life in ages. And Rye knewhe should be careful what he wished for, but he needed some excitement.
Something new.
