The idea of it nestled in his head and made his wolf stir. The innocuous gesture had layers upon layers of meaning. Women in his tribe didn’t bring strange men to their beds, nor did they cozy up behind them while they were in wolf form. And they certainly didn’t pet them while doing it. Those acts were reserved for lovers. Was he remembering correctly? Surely Hope wouldn’t have been caressing his cheek on the tattooed side of his face. It must have been a nice dream. After all, he’d sustained a near-fatal head injury last night, and he’d be lucky if he could remember how to tie his shoes.
Tak sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Shit,” he muttered, realizing he didn’t have any clothes to change into.
He rubbed his temple, checking for scars. Though the wound had healed, phantom pains still shuddered through him. His bones creaked and muscles ached when he stood up and stretched. Glaring at her closet, he decided not to rummage through her personal things in search of men’s clothing. By the looks of her modest room, Tak didn’t sense that another male shared her space.
That pleased him more than it should have.
He walked to the foot of the bed and marveled over the fine craftsmanship of her desk. Someone had put a lot of love into carving that piece, and it was almost as magnificent as the jewelry that filled the shelves and hung from hooks.
Yet as beautiful as they were, all of those trinkets paled in comparison to the squash blossom necklace he’d seen on display in her store. Any man in his tribe would be honored to own something that impressive. Tak regretted thinking he could own it for only one hundred dollars. She must have been insulted. He’d just never seen jewelry marked so high, but maybe she priced important pieces as a test to make sure that only the right person made her an offer—one who deserved to wear it.
Curious how long he’d been asleep, Tak peered into the hall for signs of life. A house this quiet didn’t seem right. He lived in a big tribe, and people were always running about doing chores and visiting with packmates. Tak awoke each morning to the sound of birds chirping through open windows, women singing, and children laughing. How could anyone live in a tomb such as this?
Tak silently moved into the living room and spotted Hope curled up on the pink sofa against the left wall. He stood there for a moment and admired her, his fingertips reaching for her silken tresses. Women in his tribe wore theirs braided, so seeing Hope’s loose locks tempted him to touch her hair. She looked peaceful lying there with her knees drawn up. Had it been chilly, he would have found a blanket to cover her up.
He glanced down at his naked body and decided to put distance between them in case she opened her eyes. No sense in giving the woman a start with his endowments.
The living room didn’t seem at all her style. He still couldn’t get over the pink sofa. Tak stopped in front of a short divider wall and admired the houseplants sitting on top. Someone loved and cared for them. Not a single dead leaf, and the dirt was moist to the touch. A suncatcher in the kitchen window caught his attention, the green and yellow bird spraying colors onto the kitchen island. He circled around the wall and gripped the back of a barstool. Hand-stitched pot holders hung from the side of the fridge, and on the freezer door, a wolf magnet pinned a photograph of Hope and Melody in front of their store, big smiles on their faces. The homemade flour and sugar canisters on the counter made him wonder if she’d bought them or someone in her family had made them. There were more crafts in the kitchen, and he instantly liked this room.
Curious, he opened two folding doors to the right of the fridge and peered inside a laundry room. There weren’t any clothes, only a folded-up quilt on the dryer and a large piece of fabric draped over a hook. He pulled it free, and when he shook out the thin material—uncertain what it was used for—he decided to wrap it around his waist and tie a knot.
Tak found a bag of thick rubber bands and put one between his teeth while he meticulously braided his hair in the back. He’d done it a million times and could make a perfectly straight braid even in the dark. He had to wrap the band around the end a dozen times, and though it probably wouldn’t hold all day, it would suffice. Tying it back wasn’t just for the convenience of getting his hair out of his face. It was a symbolic link to his people. His tribe had many traditions, one of them being that both men and women braided their hair in a single braid. The only exception was his father, who wore two. Walking around with unbound hair was like not wearing pants.
He rubbed his chest and then stretched out his arms. The thought of eggs made his stomach growl. Tak opened the fridge and frowned.
No eggs.
“Figures,” he muttered.
The one thing in the whole world that would have completely satisfied his craving. Not just any craving, but the food craving all Shifters had after a shift. It had been hours, but the taste for eggs still lingered. He’d never had this problem before since they raised their own chickens. Tak pulled out a package of bacon and shoved away thoughts of scrambled eggs, sunny-side up, poached, over easy, boiled, and even raw.
A casserole would be even better,he thought.
Tak turned around and pressed his back against the fridge, staring across the apartment at the slumbering woman. He should have left town yesterday, but his wolf wouldn’t allow it. No matter what resentment he harbored toward Lakota, it had nothing to do with his sister. Hope was just a stranger, but a sense of duty and responsibility came over him—a desire to guard this woman as if she were precious gold. But those feelings conflicted with a voice in his head that reminded him Hope wasn’t his concern. Women like her didn’t need men like him.
But maybe she could use a blanket.
Chapter 9
The sound of whistling danced in my head, and I sleepily rubbed my eyes. When I opened them, I was lying on the pink sofa with a quilt over me. I had no memory of getting it out, but as groggy as I was feeling, maybe my memory couldn’t be trusted.
Startled, I flew up to a sitting position.
What day is this? What time is it?
When I realized I wasn’t late for work and the pieces of what had happened the night before fell into place, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Until a second thing startled me—smoke.
Across the living room, Tak was standing in the kitchen in front of my stove.
Shirtless.
A single braid of dark hair ran down his bare back, and he was whistling like a bird set free from its cage. I drew in a breath, the aroma of bacon eclipsed by the white smoke that filled the room like a thin haze.
“Ow!” he hissed, swinging his arm away.
