Huntsman - Morgan Brice Page 0,2

confronting a hapless driver with a too-knowledgeable fox or a naked man who had just shifted back didn’t seem like it was the right way to make new friends.

Showing up naked might make a new friend, but I don’t need that kind of trouble on top of everything else. I’m just fine without romantic entanglements for a long, long time. That’s what got me into this fuckin’ situation in the first place.

Liam didn’t dare keep playing music on his phone or from the car radio for fear of draining the batteries. Unfortunately, sitting in the quiet dark just let his thoughts spiral.

How did I not realize what kind of person Kelson was until it was too late? It’s not like I was a blushing virgin. I’d had other boyfriends. Been in a few actual relationships. How did Kelson keep me from seeing the real him for so long?

Being cheated on was bad enough. Realizing how much Kelson had lied and manipulated me was worse, but turning me over to a Huntsman to get back at me for confronting him? That’s like arranging a hitman. Unforgivable. And if my judgment was bad enough to get me into that mess, how can I ever trust my heart again?

Flashing lights broke Liam out of his gloomy thoughts. The tow truck headed toward him, then did a U-turn and pulled in front of Liam’s car, backing up until it was close enough to hook up the Honda.

The truck driver got out and walked toward Liam, who reluctantly got out of the car. Even though he had called for assistance and it was clear the stranger was a legitimate responder, Liam couldn’t help feeling jittery, with his hands sweating, and heart thumping.

Those reactions doubled when he got a good look at the driver.

Oh, just shoot me now. Fuck my life. Why did he have to be so fine?

In the glare of the truck’s spotlights, Liam made out all the important details. The man had broad shoulders, strong arms, powerful legs, and a solid chest, standing a good five inches or more over Liam’s five-foot-seven frame. Liam had thought he might be saved if the driver was ugly as sin, but he was out of luck. His face was as utterly lickable as the rest of him.

“You called for a tow? Mr. Reynard?”

Liam nodded.

“I’m Russell Lowe—everyone calls me Russ. I own Lowe’s Auto Shop in Fox Hollow, and tonight I’m your personal tow truck driver,” he said with a broad smile and dimples. The man’s sharp cheekbones, full lips, and strong chin were highlighted by dark brown scruff. Liam’s gaze traveled upward, surprised at gray hair flecked with brown framing a face that couldn’t be older than thirty-five. Green eyes made Liam wonder what kind of shifter Russ might be.

He swallowed hard and might have blushed when he realized Russ seemed to be checking him out too. No matter how attractive his roadside savior might be, Liam’d had enough man trouble to last an eternity, and he sure didn’t need more in a new town.

“Yes, I’m Liam Reynard. Just Liam,” he said, wishing he could conjure up the natural charm that had always served him well in community theater performances. His fox could be quite dramatic. But now, on the run, scared for his life, and in the dark with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t muster his usual flair.

“The engine started making strange noises, and I pulled off. I didn’t want to break anything.” Liam cringed because he knew next to nothing about cars. Admitting that takes points off my “man score,” doesn’t it? Then again, so does being a sports-hating, gay fox shifter twink.

Well, at thirty, I’d thought my twink days were behind me. But when he compared his own shorter, lithe, dancer build to the solid man-mountain in front of him? Yeah, twink still fits.

“I’m glad you stopped the car without waiting for the car to stop you.” Russ finally shifted his attention away from Liam and focused on the Civic. “Let’s get the tow set up, and then you can ride in the cab with me to Fox Hollow.”

He met Liam’s gaze, and those green eyes seemed to bore straight through to the fox shifter’s soul. “That is where you’re going, right?”

Liam’s mouth had gone dry. He nodded, cursing himself for reacting to a handsome man like a teenybopper. Get a grip. I haven’t gotten laid in a long time, but it’s not like I stopped cleaning the pipes