Chapter One

The moment Gavin Wright stepped outside onto the half-finished deck, he knew his life was irrevocably changed. If he were honest with himself, he’d known as much even before he opened the glass door that led to the most amazing view he’d ever seen in his life.

Sure, the snow-capped mountains dotted with clusters of evergreens that stretched for miles in every direction were spectacular. The home, which belonged to Wyatt Arthur, was tucked away inconspicuously in the Rocky Mountains along the southwestern edge of Alberta, Canada. But what really caught Gavin’s eye was the man leaning over the deck.

The man Gavin had been staring at for several minutes through the enormous picture window that lined the back of Wyatt Arthur’s house.

The man currently causing Gavin to have the biggest hard-on he could remember in recent history.

He had one booted foot lifted to rest on the edge of the deck. A worn leather tool belt hung low on his jean-clad hips. And the tight black T-shirt stretched across his abs should have been illegal.

Gavin had yet to see the man’s face, and he didn’t need to. There wasn’t a chance in hell any part of this perfection could possibly be anything less than jaw dropping. His arms and hands were dark, not just from the sun, but undoubtedly from at least some percentage of First Nations blood in him. His hair was thick and black and long. It was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck, but half of it had escaped the band to fall haphazardly across his face and over his shoulder to dangle in front of his chest.

Time stood still while Gavin took him in. It was only a fraction of a second, but it seemed like longer, and Gavin knew it was a moment he would never forget.

When the man lifted his face, Gavin silently gasped.

Oh, yeah. God’s gift to men. Or women. Please let him be gay… What were the chances? Wait. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t hook up with anyone in this small town. I’m only here for the summer. There’d be no way to keep it private.

The man’s expression was hard, startled. His eyes were as dark as his hair, his face sun-kissed a deep brown with a tinge of red from working outside. Tiny wrinkles spread from the corners of his eyes as he scrunched them to stare at Gavin.

The hammer he held slid through his right hand as if he’d forgotten he was holding it, but he gripped it tighter at the last second, keeping it from dropping onto the deck. After a moment, his face softened, and he cocked his head to one side, lifting a hand to block the sun’s morning rays from his vision. “Are you lost, pretty boy?”

Ordinarily, if anyone spoke to Gavin that way, he would lose his shit, partially because the terminology was nearly always meant as an insult and partially because Gavin’s spine was accustomed to stiffening anytime anyone accused him of being gay. He’d spent his entire twenty-four years denouncing that truth and defending himself against homophobic insults.

But this man, this perfect example that God was alive and well in the universe, he could call Gavin anything he wanted. Somehow the words he’d spoken didn’t come out as an insult at all. In fact, from his lips, they were an endearment.

Gavin smirked, finding the muscle strength to shuffle forward. “Not lost. No. Just here to pick up my girlfriend.” The words were out before Gavin realized how preposterous and confounding they sounded.

The man lifted a brow. “Girlfriend,” he repeated, as if the notion were ludicrous. And it was, but Gavin was so used to considering Paige Osborn his girlfriend that the title slid right off his tongue without hesitation.

“She, uh…”

The darker man glanced past Gavin toward the back of the house, and then he shook his head and smirked. “No heterosexual man in his right mind would leave his girlfriend alone in a room with Wyatt Arthur for a single moment, let alone hours. She’s been in there a while. You just arrived and came straight outside.” He lifted a brow.

Gavin shivered a bit at how quickly this man pegged him correctly. He wanted to look away, save face or something, but he couldn’t bring himself to drop the stranger’s gaze. Instead, he continued to approach him as if drawn magnetically to the edge of the deck.

The man extended a hand. “Dale Gerben.”

Gavin took his hand as he fought to recall what his own name was. Dale’s grip was firmer than Gavin’s. Just right. His hand was larger, rough with calluses from working construction. His darker skin covered with a light sprinkle of dark hair made Gavin lick his lips.

“Do you have a name?” Dale asked, still holding on to Gavin.

Gavin jerked his attention from their combined hands to Dale’s face. “Gavin. Sorry. Gavin Wright.”

Finally, Dale released him, though Gavin half wished he hadn’t. This close Gavin could see that Dale was older, at least thirty. His First Nations heritage would keep him permanently young, but the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes spoke of maturity and wisdom.

Gavin was only twenty-four and cursed with one of those faces that would get him carded on a regular basis for years to come. He wore his brown hair cut stylishly and kept a well-trimmed beard to add to his years, but there was no hiding his youthful looks.

Dale stood in the grass off the end of the deck, but considering how many inches he had on Gavin, his position put the two of them at eye level. He straightened to his full height and adjusted his tool belt. He glanced at the wall of glass that comprised the back of the house again. “I assume this girlfriend of yours is Paige Osborn?”

Gavin furrowed his brow. “Yes. How did you know?” Gavin’s first thought was that perhaps Dale was a bear shifter like he knew Paige and Wyatt to be, but then he came to his senses and realized she easily could have been introduced to Dale before Gavin arrived at the house minutes ago.

He shrugged. “Word gets around. I heard she was coming to town to do some sort of research.”

“Oh, right. Yes. She’s finishing her masters in urban anthropology from the University of Calgary. They sent her here for the summer to do a study about why the citizens of Silvertip are stronger, healthier, and live longer.”

Dale smirked again, his chest heaving a bit. Surely he was a shifter too if he realized how absurd the study was. Not to mention, Paige had told Gavin most of the citizens of Silvertip were grizzly shifters. Already, after one day, Gavin was a little stressed every time he met someone new. As a human, he had no way to determine who was a shifter and who wasn’t.

Paige, however, could scent her own species, as could any bear shifter.

There weren’t many shifters living in Calgary, so Dale had rarely thought much about their existence on a daily basis, other than the fact that his best friend was a shifter.

“How do you know Paige?” Dale asked, cocking his head to one side.

Gavin had trouble keeping his gaze directed at the man’s face. What he wanted to do was freeze-frame the moment and soak in his broad chest, narrower waist, and damn fine thighs.

“Gavin?”

He shook himself, trying to remember the question. “She’s my girlfriend. I told you that.”

Dale chuckled now. “Right. Well, your girlfriend has left the house and is now sitting in your car out front. I think she’s ready to leave.”

Gavin jerked his head over his shoulder, though from the deck there was nothing to see behind him. He couldn’t possibly know if she was in the house or out front by looking. How did Dale know?

Yep. He had to be a shifter. And it was going to take some time to get used to realizing that other people around him besides Paige would have extraordinary abilities Gavin would never understand.

Gavin pulled his phone out of his pocket and found a message from Paige.

I’m in the car.

“Looks like you’re right. Guess I better go.” He was disappointed that he didn’t have more time to stare at Dale. He’d like nothing more than to pull up a chair and watch the man work. Not that he could do that under any circumstances, but a guy could dream. He wasn’t surprised she was in the car. After all, she’d texted him less than an hour ago, asking him to come get her.

Gavin stopped breathing two seconds later when Dale reached out, took his phone out of his hand, and began to type. When he handed it back, he winked. “Call me.”

The world stopped spinning for several moments. Was it possible this god of a man was also gay and had just propositioned Gavin? Yep. There was no mistaking the gesture.

Gavin’s heart raced, and it was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking as he tucked the phone back in his pocket.

Dale stepped back. “You don’t have to go through the house if you don’t want.” He pointed to the right. “You can round the side to the driveway. I’m sure Wyatt won’t be the best company right now.”

Gavin nodded. Why did it seem like Dale knew things by conjecture alone?

Yeah. No doubt about it. Living in Silvertip for the summer was going to be…interesting. And Dale Gerben just made things that much more interesting.