Taking the Belle: Big Easy Shifters: Book One Read online

  Taking the Belle

  Big Easy Shifters: Book One

  Abby Knox

  Copyright © 2020 by Abby Knox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  First edition published 2018

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Proofread by Kasi Alexander

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  This re-release is dedicated to my readers. Without you, there’s no point to any of this! Thank you for asking about the shifters. I’m so happy to bring them back to you, better than before.

  Taking the Belle

  Big Easy Shifters: Book One

  Ashton knows what he wants as soon as he sees it.

  When the strange little princess in the dangerous dress walks in to his friend's bar one night, Ash can barely remember his own name, let alone the name of the woman who recently did him wrong. He knows it's a bad idea to get close to someone who doesn't understand his wild-and-woolly secret, but he's the breed of guy who mates for life. He doesn't care who her daddy is and does not care how many gilded hoops he has to jump through. He's gonna marry that girl and do whatever she says to get her down the aisle.

  Rosemary has got it all, except any desire for the kind of man her rich daddy approves of.

  She's a hell cat who's hell-bent saving her virginity for just the right down-home fella who can keep up with her.

  A man who isn't after her family's money.

  And, a man who can handle the excitement of her family's bizarre little secret.

  Ashton fits the bill perfectly. He's a self-made man, tons of fun and mystery, and has latched on to her so fast they're as cozy as peanut butter and jelly.

  Now. if everyone can keep their claws to themselves, they might just make it!

  Taking the Belle is book one in the newly revised and updated Big Easy Shifter series (previously titled Her Big Easy Wedding, originally released in 2018) This version is slightly spicier and wolfier; I hope you love it!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Abby Knox

  Coming in autumn 2020

  Chapter One

  Ash

  If there were ever an extreme sports of mixology event, Bobby Jordan would be the undefeated world champion.

  Who knows why Ashton Boudreaux’s best friend had decided on Singapore Sling as the signature cocktail of the evening for the Wolfpack Tavern’s annual Twelfth Night party? Maybe because he looked good mixing them.

  Bobby slid the drink across the bar.

  “Why did you have to make it a tropical drink? Do I look like I’m wearing a coconut bra?” Ash asked.

  His friend grinned at him. “Because of exactly that. The ladies come to my bar for my good looks, and they stay because I know how to mix the pretty, pretty drinks. And they like to watch me.”

  Ash shook his head and drawled, “Well, I ain’t so much interested in the ladies tonight, so how ’bout I come back there and fix myself something to put some more hair on my chest?”

  Bobby laughed. “You don’t need no more hair on that chest, ape-man. Besides, everybody knows you need a nice young lady to get your mind off of what’s-her-name. You need to move on.”

  Ash shook his head and said, “It’s gonna take more than nice.” He sipped his drink, which tasted too sweet for him. Cloying like candy. “This is terrible. Move over, Bobby.”

  Bobby blocked him. “This is my bar. And this ladies’ night shindig is my own personal Thank-Your-Personal-Baby-Jesus-Christmas-Is-Over Party. I insist. Now sit down, I’ll make you an Old Fashioned.”

  “I’d appreciate it, thanks. And try not to be jealous of my chest hair. I can’t help it that Mother Nature doubled down on my testosterone.” Ash pounded his fist on one of his pectorals, which he pushed out for emphasis.

  Bobby mixed up the Old Fashioned and slid it in front of his friend, then his eyes glanced past Ash with an odd look on his face. “Sure, pal. Let’s hope you still got some of that manhood left to work with after what what’s-her-name did to you because you’re gonna need it.”

  “What are you babbling about?” Ash sipped his drink. Bobby nodded to the front door. Ash swiveled around in his barstool, not prepared for the lightning strike of a female who was eyeing him from across the room. She’d slinked in alongside Ash’s lifelong friend, Pen LeFleur, who was already signaling to Bobby to have drinks ready.

  Ash stood up because that’s what one does in the presence of a queen. And that’s about all that he knew how to do at the moment when she locked eyes with him.

  He didn’t know her name, but she looked like she knew him. Her silvery lace shawl slipped from her shoulders. Pen graciously caught the garment before it touched the dubiously clean floor of the establishment.

  “Who. Is. That?” Ash asked his friend without taking his eyes off the strange woman.

  “Pen said something about bringing her newest client along tonight. Don’t know her name, but she’s old money. Way older than your sorry-ass Boudreaux money, my friend. So be careful.”

  Ash turned to his friend and laughed. “Oh yeah? Then why’s she partying over here in our neck of the woods and not whisking our girl away to some fancy club downtown?” He took a healthy gulp of his drink and enjoyed the burn on the way down.

  “I guess she and Pen hit it off.”

  Ash turned again and saw the strange, sultry woman approaching, her eyes on him like a challenge. Like she had found her prey and was daring him to run. The woman had deep, intense eyes, high cheekbones, a heart-shaped face, and wild blond hair. Ash didn’t know her name, but they both knew she was about to hit it off with more than just Pen. Was this a dream?

  Ash detected her herbal scent long before she slithered up close to the bar and parked herself right next to him. The big, bad wolf in him latched on to the heady mix of fragrance and pheromones that floated along with her.

  Her dangerously short slip of a dress, five-inch stilettos, and at least ten pounds of antique diamonds that sparkled against her wrists, neck, and earlobes all made up some pretty packaging on the outside. Ash found himself dead curious to see what lurked underneath. Not just her body. She had power, and he needed to know where it came from.

  “What you drinkin’, darlin’?” Her eyes homed in on the girly drink on the bar next to Ash, the one he had tasted and set aside in exchange for his Old Fashioned. Her voice felt like a cool satin sheet sliding across his chest on a steamy night in July.

  Ash was doing his best not to drool. He kept his eyes focused on hers, despite knowing full well her nipples were trying to poke through the thin, shiny fabric of that dress. But even focusi
ng on her eyes—her long lashes accented with the tiniest of rhinestones that gave her the look of an unearthly snow queen—gave him an insta-boner.

  “Ah…” He looked for words. Words, man, think of words. The woman asked you a question. “Old Fashioned. What’s your poison? I’ll fix you whatever.”

  “Hey, that’s my job,” Bobby said, interrupting, but Ash ignored him.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the girly drink. Every time she spoke, her lashes fluttered at him like she was beckoning him to come closer.

  “Ah…some sugar water that my man Bobby here thought would help him seduce the ladies.”

  “Hey!” Bobby said.

  The snow queen smiled and picked up the drink. “I love these colorful cocktails,” she said. “Makes me happy to look at them.”

  Bobby cleared his throat. “Ma’am, let me make you a fresh one. That one has Ash’s cooties all over it.”

  She leaned sideways against the bar and sassily thrust out one hip. She spoke to Bobby but kept her eyes trained on Ash. “I ain’t scared of Ash’s germs. He looks like good people to me.” And then she winked one of those gorgeous eyes, picked up the cocktail, and held it aloft.

  “To Ash and his cooties,” she said, raising her glass. Ash laughed and raised his drink, not knowing what to say back.

  “Rosemary,” she said as if answering the question by reading his mind. “That’s my name.”

  He nodded and they clinked glasses. “To Rosemary. My favorite flavor.”

  Ash and Rosemary kept their eyes locked on each other as they sipped their drinks. It was the kind of stare-down that preceded either a lively bout of fist-fighting or fucking, and if the two of them kept it up, one or the other would have happened right there at the bar in front of everyone. Ash had a feeling he would have to pay Bobby for property damages, whether for fighting or fucking.

  Rosemary laughed as she watched Ash wolf the rest of his drink, swipe a tiny dribble off his chin, and slam his glass on the bar. Then she surprised him by following suit, with a bravado that matched his. Shit, a woman who can drink, too.

  He held out his hand. “Ashton Boudreaux. I don’t believe I caught your last name.”

  She smiled coyly and accepted his proffered hand. “DuChamp.”

  If Ash had been drinking as she announced her family name, he would have done a spit take. “Did you say DuChamp? As in DuChamp Shipping?”

  She sighed and pushed her empty glass toward Bobby. “Bartender, how ’bout another one of those,” she said, laying on the drawl thickly. Then she turned back to Ash. “And DuChamp Trucking. And DuChamp Sugar. And DuChamp Steel. Yes. That one. Got any more questions about my rich daddy?”

  Ash could tell she was on the verge of walking away. He wisely decided against asking any more questions about her family or its well-known mountains of money. “I do not,” he replied. “You got any questions about my daddy and his smaller-but-respectable fortune?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And tell me, Ashton, who is your daddy?”

  Just then, Pen barged in on the conversation and slung an arm around Ash’s shoulder. “Why, everybody knows his daddy! Ash here’s the son of Jimmy Chicken! Remember? I told you about him.” Pen slurred her words, clearly having pre-gamed for ladies’ night at the Wolfpack Tavern. “I’m so glad to see y’all are getting acquainted! Rosemary, Ash. Ash, Rosemary; Bobby, Rosemary. Rosemary, Bobby. Y’all, Rosemary is officially in the crew now, I hope that’s okay. She is the best. The. Best.”

  Yes, Pen was always this gregarious whenever the group got together. Especially when she’d already knocked back a few before the party started.

  Rosemary laughed. “We did some shots at my place. Don’t worry; we took a rideshare here.”

  “Aww, drunk Pen is so cute,” Ash said, putting an arm around his friend’s waist, though curious why, with all of that DuChamp money, Rosemary hadn’t made use of her chauffeur. He didn’t dare ask, though. Not after the way Rosemary had bristled at the mention of her father’s company. Turning to Bobby, Ash remarked, “Ain’t our Pen the cutest?”

  An amused Rosemary glanced back and forth between the two friends.

  “Oh, no,” Ash said, anticipating Rosemary’s question. “We’re not a thing,” he said. “We’re just friends, always just friends. We’ve known each other since, what, homeschool days?”

  Pen laughed, “Yeah, I gotta remember to tell you a story about the time Ash and Bobby and the rest of the crew put on a big talent show just for the parents…”

  Bobby cut her off, coming around the bar and putting a supporting arm around his drunk friend. “Yes, that’s a classic story. I’m sure you’ll remember to tell it tomorrow. Meanwhile, come along, ol' Pen. Something I need you to see. Our long-lost homie Vann sent me an aged bottle of whiskey from Tokyo.”

  Immediately distracted, Pen shouted, “Oh my gawd, let’s open that bitch!”

  Ash and Bobby nodded at each other. Bobby busted Ash’s chops constantly, but he was a good wingman. Bobby knew right away that Ash didn’t want this snow queen knowing all his embarrassing stories. Not tonight, anyway.

  As Bobby and Pen disappeared to share the bottle with the rest of the gang, Rosemary goggled at him. “Tight-knit group you’ve got here. Must be nice to always have people backing you up.”

  He gave her his best crooked aw-shucks grin. “It’s not an exclusive club or anything. We have room for new friends, too, even if her name is DuChamp.”

  Rosemary sipped a second fruity drink and shot him a devious look. “Just one problem.”

  Ash leaned in and got another whiff of her perfume, layered on top of her natural scent. He was glad he’d stopped drinking after one Old Fashioned. Not only did he intend to leave with her in his car, but alcohol put a severe damper on his ability to sniff out scents. Despite her calm demeanor, her pulse raced the closer they leaned in toward each other. His sniffer could pick up a scared rabbit hidden in the bushes just by listening for the rapid heartbeat. But this girl was no fuzzy bunny. She was just as much of an alpha as he was, and she was ready to pounce.

  “And what problem would that be?” Ash asked, nearly high on the drug of her scent. He felt her in his nostrils, his lungs, all the way down on a molecular level.

  “I don’t wanna be your friend,” she replied.

  Ash’s face fell. “Oh. Okay.” He kept it cool. He looked down at the bar, away from her gaze.

  “Ash,” she said, bending close to catch his eye.

  “Yeah?” He reluctantly met her gaze once again.

  “You didn’t ask me what I do want.”

  He shrugged. “All right then, non-friend. What do you want?”

  Rosemary could strike a man dead with that expression on her face, and that man would die happy. “I just wanna fuck someone my daddy hates.”

  That caught him off-guard. Ash squinted at her skeptically but remained interested. “That’s a lot to unpack, little lady.”

  She looked away, suddenly appearing vulnerable for the first time. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a bit of a deceiver tonight. I already knew who you were when Pen brought me here. She said she was meeting with her good friend, Ashton Boudreaux. When I asked her for more details, it turns out my daddy, Lionel, hates your daddy.”

  “Really?” Ash asked. He knew none of this. “But…nobody but nobody hates Jimmy Boudreaux. He’s just a good old dude with a fried chicken empire. He donates almost a third of his income to local charities every year.”

  Rosemary nodded as if she already knew all of that. “Thing is, my daddy wants me to stay home like a good girl until I marry, and marry me off to some family that’ll make him even more money. So I moved out, found my own place, and hired Pen to decorate it. And it turns out, you are the son of the only rich man on the Gulf Coast who ever said no to my daddy. I find that very, very appealing.”

  Rosemary brought the little red cocktail straw up close to her lips, stuck out her tongue, and slowly licked the straw from the tip o
n down to just below the rim. And then back up again to the tip. The entire time she did not break eye contact with Ash.

  That was quite a revelation to Ash. He knew he should be a little bit offended at the idea of her wanting to use him to get back at her daddy. But damn. None of that information turned him off in the least. Certainly, none of that mattered to the caged beast inside him. Those lips, that pink tongue could use him and use him again, as far as he was concerned. He could already taste her in his mouth.

  “Did Bobby get the date wrong?” he asked her.

  “Excuse me, sugar?” she asked, confused.

  “Well, this was supposed to be a Twelfth Night party, but all I can see in front of me is one juicy little Christmas present.”

  Rosemary laughed, pulled out the straw, and tossed back her second drink. Damn. Dayum. A hot little hellcat who smells amazing, gets right to the point, wants to use you to get back at her daddy, and can hold her liquor. Marry her immediately, or you’re an idiot.

  “So does that mean you’re down for it?” she asked, even though it was clear she knew the answer. Any man would be a fool to say no.

  “Mamaw, gimme that heirloom diamond, ’cause I’m fixin’ to put a ring on this one,” he said, unable to keep himself from grinning ear to ear.

  She set the glass on the bar and locked onto his eyes one more time. “You ’bout done talking, Boudreaux? ’Cause I am ready to go.”

  He nodded, stood up straight, and offered his arm to the lady.

  “Good manners,” she commented. “Oh, but wait. I forgot about Pen. I’m sorry, I don’t get out much and I don’t normally pick men up in bars…”