Chapter Two
Max’s stomach rumbled. He’d been forced to skip out on lunch when his assistant hadn’t showed up, and now that the workday was over, his stomach was demanding some attention.
The breeze rippled through his gold hair as he rolled the window down to grab his mail, and he was torn. Work had been hell, and he really wanted to put on his tennis shoes and do a few miles around the neighborhood, but running on an empty stomach tended to make him even more temperamental.
And Max was not a stand-up guy when his temper got the best of him.
So his shoved a frozen lasagna in the microwave and flipped through his mail while he waited. A black envelope with gold lettering caught his eye, and he frowned.
Hairy and Fluffy Dating Agency
What the hell? Max tossed it aside without bothering to open it. He’d heard of the agency of course. It was big in the shifter community, and rumor had it that they were good. But Max was far too busy to search for a mate. He had his own business to run not to mention a pride to oversee. Even though the pride was demanding that he finally settle down, there simply wasn’t enough time in the day.
In the past, he’d been interested. His former days were filled with women and dreams of a mate and a family, but eventually, all of his flings ended the same. None of them could handle him at his worse, and sometimes, his worse was all he had to offer.
The microwaved beeped, and Max devoured the cardboard tasting meal. Something tugged at his peripheral, and his eyes slid over to the counter.
With a low grown, he snagged the envelope and ripped it open with far more aggression than was necessary.
You are cordially invited to a meet and greet Friday evening. Shifters and carefully sifted human applicants will be there in hopes of finding their true love. Eighty percent of shifters find their mates. Are you ready for yours?
He rolled his eyes. Nonsense. He certainly did not need to find his mate in a room of pumped up testosterone and alphas or alpha wannabees. That’s just a recipe for disaster.
As he tossed the card aside, he flipped over, and he noticed a message on the back.
Maxwell, your pride encourages you to attend.
His eyes widened. The barstool hit the floor as he lunged to his phone. It only took two seconds for his father to pick up. “Before you say anything,” Charles said mildly.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Max hissed. “Is this a threat?”
His father had obviously been waiting for the phone call. “Maxwell, the stipulations for being an alpha are clear. You have to mate. You’re pushing thirty-five and the pride is getting nervous. If you don’t take a wife soon, they’re going to be forced to place Jerome as alpha, and nobody wants that.”
Max gripped the phone. His father wasn’t wrong. The Torrent family had been the alphas of the local tribe for several generations, and it would continue as long as the pride was happy and the alpha took a mate and continued the line. If an alpha died without an heir, the strongest male took over, and while Jerome was the strongest, he was also the most temperamental and unpredictable. It was a recipe for disaster.
“But a Hairy and Fluffy party?” he said as his anger escaped him. He leaned against the counter and dropped his head. “That’s degrading.”
“It’s hardly degrading. That agency has the best reputation in the shifter community. I know you’re busy. They do all the work for you. Just give it a shot.”
Charles had been a great leader, and had he not fallen ill several years ago, he would still be alpha. But the community feared he would not make it, so Max, as the oldest son, took over. Charles recovered, and he had no issues with his son taking over. Max wanted to earn the pride’s respect like his father had earned it.
He wanted his father to proud of him as well.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll go. But we’re going to have some words about personal space at the next meeting,” he snapped.
“Good luck with that,” Charles snorted.
Max hung up the phone and sighed. Shrugging his shoulders to ease the tension, he stripped out of his business clothes and put on his jogging gear. He had quite a bit of frustrations to burn before he tried to take on the dating agency.
Even the pounding of his heels hitting the ground didn’t do anything to release the anxiety he had about potentially meeting his mate. It made him anxious to think that he was meant to be with one person. What if he got it wrong and he picked the wrong woman? What if his woman didn’t like him?
So he ran harder and farther, but before he could completely escape the situation, he turned back around to take a shower and get ready for the damn party.