My wolf liked that line too much.
The air between us felt charged now, humming with something alive. Every glance stretched a little too long, every brush of his arm too deliberate.
“Tell you what,” Zack said after finishing his drink. “There’s a bar a few blocks from here. Smaller and quieter, less wedding-ish. You in?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Lead the way.”
The night airhit cool and sharp as we stepped outside. Music from the hall trailed behind us, faint compared to the city hum.
Zack’s shoulder brushed mine as we walked, his scent pulling at me again. Pine, smoke, a hint of citrus. My wolf practically pressed its nose to the air, greedy for more.
The small bar he mentioned wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but inside it was cozy. There were warm lights, low chatter, the faint buzz of a guitar from the speakers.
We found a booth in the corner, half-hidden from view.
“So,” he said, settling opposite me, “you always this easy to convince, or am I special?”
“Depends who’s asking,” I said, smiling. “You might be special.”
Zack’s lips curved. “Flatterer.”
“Just honest,” I said.
The drinks arrived, and conversation flowed easily. He told me about his gigs, the messy breakup, how music had always been both his escape and his downfall.
I shared bits about growing up in a tight-knit family, about my rowdy siblings, and about the quiet grief that came with watching someone you love fade.
Somewhere between his laughter and the way he leaned closer when he talked, I realized I hadn’t felt this light in a long time.
My wolf had relaxed, tail swaying, curious instead of restless. It recognized him in some wordless way, a pull I didn’t dare name yet.
When his knee brushed mine under the table, neither of us moved away.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I said softly, “I’m going to start thinking you’re trouble.”
Zack smirked. “Maybe I am.”
“Good,” I murmured. “I could use a little trouble.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “You’re not the only one.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The noise of the bar faded away, leaving just him, the faint thud of my heart, and the heat between us stretching tight.
I wasn’t the kind of guy who believed in fate or mates or any of that storybook nonsense.
But damn if it didn’t feel like something bigger was at play when he smiled at me like that. Like he saw straight past the walls I’d built to keep the world out.
“I don’t usually do this,” Zack said finally.
I arched a brow. “Go home with strangers?”
He chuckled. “No. Talk this much. Guess you’re easy to talk to.”
“Guess I am.” I grinned. “You always this charming after breaking up with someone?”
“Only when the rebound looks like you,” he said.
That pulled a laugh from me, genuine and bright. “Careful, Zack. You’ll make a guy think you mean it.”
