Mates May Meet (Completed)

Patrick Gibson and Gracelynn Edwards

Patrick Gibson and Gracelynn Edwards

Patrick Gibson was a ladies man. Blonde, brunette, red-headed, short, tall, he liked them all. But the most attractive quality he found in a woman was being human. He was a Psi Lycan. He tried to climb the ranks but nothing he did worked.  By the age of eighteen he decided he'd have as little as possible to do with the wolves. 

He started college at nineteen but flunked out after two semesters. If he had taken it seriously, instead of chasing the females, he may have graduated. 

After college, he used the excuse of looking for a mate not to stay with the pack. His alpha granted his leave the moment he asked and assured him he'd take care of the paperwork. 

He packed up a duffle bag and a backpack, jumped on his uncle's motorcycle and drove out of town. 

He hadn't thought about the facts. Without going to college and being over 18,  he no longer qualified for the monthly educational payments from his pack. 

So the $699 he had in cash and on his debit card was all he had. Even on the bike gasoline was expensive. Plus, he needed to eat, sleep, shower and a beer or two was good too.

By the time the cash was gone and the debit card was declined he was stuck in a little farm town  with an empty tank. The sun had started to set and there was no way he was making it to the next real town before midnight.

He stood at the counter, contemplating calling his uncle for money. 

"You're new in town?" 

"Yeah. Do you got a phone I can use?" 

The young woman nodded. "Sure," she picked up the cordless phone, "as long as it's local." 

"It's not. How... Can you make an exception, just this one time-"

She was already replacing the phone. "It don't work to call long distance." 

"How am I supposed to get gas." 

The lady frowned. "Buck Edwards is hiring. He always needs help. I can give you his number."

"Can I use the phone to call collect?"

"No, that's like long distance." 

Eventually he gave in, called Buck, who showed up at the gas station. Buck agreed to help him out. He'd hire him and give him ten to put in the tank. 

Gas in the tank, Patrick followed Buck back to the ranch. 

Outside the barn, Patrick pushed the motorcycle as he followed the older man.

"We don't have a bunk house. But I can let you stay in the horse barn. Don't go near the back stall. That's Bella. She's ornery. We've only had her six months, should've known her price was too good to be true. She's already given my workers two broken collar bones, two legs, a few ribs, one wrist, sixteen stitches and eleven staples." Buck opened the barn door and showed him to the first of twelve stalls that connected to a large shower. "You can put your bike inside here. The tack room is there," he pointed to the only real door inside the barn. "I'll get you some blankets." He barely glanced at Patrick's red sleeping bag tied to the bike. "There's a Murphy bed in there. It's only used when the mares are birthing." Buck turned to Patrick. "Have you eaten. I can scrounge up a meal if your in the mood."

"It'd be appreciated." Patrick tried to be polite, he still hasn't gotten used to the scents of the stable. The truth was the last time he ate was the night before. He had caught a rabbit. 

Buck nodded. He left and Patrick entered the tack room. The room was large and well organized. Half of it was set up for the tack used for the horses, even four saddles found homes here. The other side had been turned into a living quarters of sorts. A simple Murphy bed had been built into the wall, there was a fold up table, two old bar stools, a long counter top, and a small sink that would barely accommodate a large bowl. Under the open counter was storage. A coffee pot, single hot plate, two coffee mugs, mismatched plates, a cast iron skillet, and silverware.