Ben grimaced, pointing to a tiny, exquisite blonde woman marching their way. “Right now.” She was leaning on a sturdy, utilitarian cane, her steps swift but careful. Her limp was noticeable, and Steve remembered Ben telling him that Belle had broken her hip saving a friend from a runaway car.

Ben took a step back from the blonde with the huge green eyes and pouty, Cupid’s-bow lips. “Hi, Belle.”

“Don’t hi me, you traitor.” The blonde stopped in front of them with a vacuous smile. Her head tilted to the side, sending waves of blonde curls over her shoulder. God, she really was like a miniature Barbie doll, complete with the rack and teeny waist. In the sweetest, most inane tone he’d ever heard, Belle asked, “Where’s Rick?”

Ben gulped, squaring his shoulders as if he were facing a firing squad rather than the world’s most fuckable doll. If Steve hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn the guy was ready to run for his life. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that I might be eviscerated.”

Belle’s perfectly shaped brows rose slowly. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

Steve looked sharply at his friend. Was his voice actually shaking?

She smiled sweetly. “Who are you more afraid of?”

Ben actually paled. “Rick and Dave are in the solarium.”

Belle patted Ben’s arm. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ben whimpered.

The woman’s expression transformed from blonde bimbo to friendly and animated. The green eyes that turned on Steve were sharp, assessing. This woman was no bimbo, no matter what role she played. “Who’s your friend?”

Ben jolted. “Belle, this is Steven Hoode. Steve, this is Rick’s wife, Belle.”

Steve picked up Belle’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Charmed.”

Belle laughed, the sound low and wicked. “Oh, you’re a bad boy, aren’t you?”

Steve grinned. He’d never try and steal Rick’s girl, but God, she was a pretty one. Too bad Rick had gotten to her first. “Trust me, I’m a very good boy.”

She pulled her hand gently from his. “You’re going to be trouble.”

“Yup.”

Ben shook his head. “At least he’s honest about it.”

“Belle!”

Belle turned her head at the sound of her name. “Shit. Chela. I’m in trouble.” She waved airily, but her gazed remained on whoever had spoken. “Later, guys.”

Steve blinked. There was someone scarier than the woman who’d just terrorized Ben into throwing his boyfriend under the bus? This woman he had to meet. He glanced over to where Belle was headed to see…

He swallowed hard.

Whoa.

And he’d thought Belle was good-looking.

Little Steve uncurled from its fetal position to wave hello at the pretty brunette motioning Belle over. Dark, rich hair, the color of really good coffee, was pulled back into a ponytail, the tip of which brushed her shoulder blades. He couldn’t see what color her eyes were, but he was willing to bet they’d be the same rich brown as her hair. Her skin tone was warm, bronzed even in winter. Full, red-tinted lips were quirked up in a smile as she shook her head at the petite blonde headed her way. She was about the same height as Belle, her curves not as obvious, but there was something about her that drew his gaze.

“Here.”

Steve blinked at the tissue Ben held out. “What’s this for?”

“Your drool.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he took the tissue. His nose was starting to run from the cold outside. “Who’s that?”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest as Steve blew his nose. “Graciela Mendoza, aka Señorita Lobito.”

“Graciela.” It was a name as pretty as its owner. He got a good look at her pert backside as she turned away with Belle, heading for the fireplace. Man, that woman filled out a pair of jeans like no one he’d ever seen before. That was Little Miss Wolf? “Tell me about her.”

Ben shook his head. “Steve.”

He put his arm around Ben’s shoulder. “Dude. You owe me.” He shivered from the cold as another group of skiers walked through the huge glass doors. “You so owe me.”

“She’s like a sister to me.”

“And you’re like a brother to me.”

Ben closed his eyes. “That just makes this wrong on so many levels.”

Steve chuckled, but his attention was still mostly on Graciela. The woman was waving her arms around as she talked to Belle, her expressions full of animation, her body moving to a beat only she could hear. He wanted that animation, that passion, turned in his direction.

He bet she’d be wild in bed.

“Are you listening to me?”

A quick glance in their direction proved him right. She did have dark eyes. “Nope.”

“Shit.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ben. Don’t you trust me with your sister?”

The look on Ben’s face was priceless. It was worth freezing his balls off just to see that.

Chela stole another look at the man laughing with Ben Malone, the Pack’s Marshal. “Who’s that?”

Belle tapped her cane on the floor. “Done lecturing me already?”

“You know you’re not supposed to scare people—”

“Chela.”

The whine was cute, but it wasn’t going to stop Graciela Mendoza from doing her duty to the Pack. “—in front of the straights.”

“Man. You guys take away all my fun.”

Chela tried desperately not to laugh. She was so glad Rick had mated Belle, making their Pack the first one with a Puma Luna. The woman was insane, tireless and utterly devoted to the well-being of Rick and the Pack, in that order.

Which was exactly the way Chela thought it should be. Your mate and children should come first, then your Pack. Too bad Rick’s grandfather hadn’t seen it that way. When his son and daughter-in-law died, he’d put the Pack first, choosing to isolate them from the outside world rather than live in a place that had stolen his son from him.

It had broken him, losing his child, but Rick had kept the man from completely losing his mind. While they’d been isolated, they hadn’t become some weird, furry cult, either. Richard Lowell was the best thing that had ever happened to the Poconos Pack, and she hoped he lived for a very long time.

She shivered as a warm laugh sounded, drawing her attention back to the blond man in the red coat standing so close to Ben that Dave would be jealous.

There wouldn’t be a need. Chela could sense that the man was fond of Ben, but in that “you’re my bro” sort of way, not the “I want to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture” way. She’d gotten a lot of experience recently with those particular emotions, thanks to the passion between not only the Alpha pair but also Ben and Dave.

“That’s Steven Hoode, Ben’s childhood friend. He’s Ben’s best man.”

That was Steve? The blond god with the bright eyes and sparkling laugh was the well-to-do architect Ben always bragged about?

She’d heard a lot about Ben’s friend, but no one had said he looked like that. His tousled hair was almost golden, his blue eyes bright with laughter. His shoulders were almost as broad as Ben’s. He wore a bright red, hooded coat that wasn’t anywhere near enough to keep him warm in the Poconos in winter. She’d have to direct him to the ski shop, where he could pick up something that wouldn’t cause that fine ass to freeze to death. He’d obviously dressed for the warmer winters they’d been having around this time of year, but the temperature had dropped in the last couple of days. He wasn’t the only guest who’d come with lighter gear than needed.

He was the hottest thing she’d ever seen walk through the lodge’s front doors, and that was saying something. She’d heard he’d grown up in the area, but she would have remembered someone that studlicious, wouldn’t she?

Then again, he was the same age as Ben, making him about five years older than her. He would have run around in a different crowd than she had. Add in the way the old Alpha had isolated them all and…