I snorted. “You’re just saying that to get me to talk.”
“Is it something we’re about to eat?”
I shook my head.
Tak rubbed his chin and leveled me with his eyes. “I’m not eating your meal until I know what your craving is.”
“And what’s yours?”
He grinned. “Eggs.”
My shoulders sagged. “So that explains the omelets. Would you rather I make one of those instead?”
“It’s not about me right now.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Tell me what you’re craving. Or did you already eat it before letting me in?”
I could have lied, but it wasn’t worth the argument. “Bologna.”
Most people found that hilarious, but instead of laughing, he got up and opened the fridge.
“Tak, no. It’s going to ruin my dinner. And besides, I came out of my shift hours ago. You’re the one who should be feeding your wolf’s craving.”
He turned around, a floppy piece of bologna wiggling between his pinched fingers. His grin was so contagious that I covered my smile and turned away.
“Stop it.”
He shut the fridge door and sat down, still wiggling the pale meat. “Take a bite.”
“No.”
“There’s plenty of time before dinner. You know you want it. You have two unopened packages in there.”
“I don’t want it.”
Tak held it with both hands and took a bite, leaving teeth marks around the missing chunk. “Mmm. Processed meat.” He grinned, hoping to tempt me, but those pearly whites did little to mask his dislike for bologna.
When he took a second nibble, I had a compulsive urge to snatch it out of his hand like a ravenous wolf and gobble up every scrap. Sometimes the cravings were manageable. Other times, they consumed my thoughts until my hunger was sated.
Hours had passed since my shift. It wasn’t as if Ineededit.
Tak leaned in and tenderly kissed my lips, leaving behind the subtle taste of bologna. Unable to resist any longer, I gave him puppy dog eyes. He chuckled softly and folded the meat before holding it in front of my lips. After a few bites, the only thing left was the juice on his thumb, which I eagerly sucked.
Tak suddenly looked hungry himself, but not for food. He sat back in his chair and took a deep, shaky breath. “So, who came over last night?”
I blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What do you mean?”
He jerked his head toward the sink. “Two empty wineglasses.”
“Oh. Dutch came over for a short visit. He wanted to apologize for leaving me at the bar.”
“Is that all that happened?”
“I confronted him about the note.”
Tak leaned forward. “And?”
“He denied it. I think. Well, he said it was crass. Our conversation left me with a funny feeling. Maybe this isn’t something you want to hear, but Dutch led me to believe that he liked me. Now I’m not sure if he was just pretending so he could gather information about my sales. You know that old saying about keeping your enemies close. He’s not exactly an equal competitor in terms of the merchandise we sell, but I think he feels threatened that he’s not the only jeweler on the block. He seemed a little surprised that I’m also selling high-priced items.”
