“What we will be getting on is proper attire. Next up, the tailor.”
Connor rolls his eyes, then, in Shonda’s direction, he wags his finger between himself and me. “Us? It’ll never happen.”
“Why’s that?” Shonda asks.
I brace myself for the answer.
“You’re both single, attractive, and stubborn as all get out—sorry, Ms. Berghier. Just speaking the truth, but I’d say you’re a perfect match.” Shonda grins like she just ordered an ice cream cone.
I value her talent and enjoy her personality—she’s friendly, fun, and cheerful—but I firmly disagree.
“We could never be together because wolves, well, dogs, and cats are natural enemies. But in the meantime, we’re just having a little fun,” Connor says with a gleam in his eyes directed at me.
“I would call this tedious, rather than fun,” I mutter.
“That’s too bad. You’ll have to keep your pants on, Connor. Apparently, no one here wants to see a full moon.” Shonda winks at me and then whispers, “I mean, unless that’s your thing.”
Connor laughs like he just had a flash of brilliance.
“Whatever it is, don’t do it,” I order.
He practically smiles his face off and asks, “What? Are you going to put me in detention?”
I can’t even deal with this man.
After the tripto the tailor, where I studied the wallpaper pattern to avoid looking at the cut of Connor’s muscles, followed by a tense midday meal wherein he wouldn’t stop needling me with the things Shonda said, reminding me that he is, in fact, a dog, we go to an empty classroom.
Seated opposite each other at a table, I open my folder. “Today we’re going to discuss women.” My tone is flat. To the point. I’m tired of his flirty comments and it’s clear, after looking at his social media feed, that he spends a lot of time dating a lot of different women.
“I think I know my way around the ladies, thank you very much.”
“Your way is flawed. Could use some improvement,” I quickly correct myself.
He tucks his chin. “I’ve been with top models, actresses, and beautiful women of all types.”
“Yes. I am aware. Your way is insulting. Your way is revolting. Your?—”
“That’s not what they tell me.”
“Beauty isn’t everything and neither is quantity, Mr. Wolfe.”
“What could you possibly teach me, Cat?” He leans forward, casting a net of tension my way.
I meet halfway, narrowing the space between us, which has the unfortunate result of me breathing in Connor’s aftershave and clean cotton scent.
“So you’re an authority? Who was the last guy you dated? Tell me all about it.” He clasps his hands and rests them on the table.
I may have little experience with men, but I know a few things. “Women want to be respected, treated with dignity, honesty, and care.”
“Check, check, check, check, check.” He motions, making checkmarks in the air.
Ignoring this, I ask, “Do you have any siblings?”
Connor’s expression turns stony. “A brother, Cain.”
“Well, imagine that you have a sister, a cousin, a girl in your life who you feel protective over. She’s sweet and innocent, and then some meathead clown decides it’s the day he’s going to defile her mind with a clear view of his backside. No, make that four geniuses who think it would be funny to?—”
“Are you talking about moon-gate? The commissioner’s daughter? We didn’t know she’d be there.”
