“You're not supposed to agree.”
“You said you wanted honesty.”
“I take it back. Lie to me. Tell me I'm very competent and manly and good at home repair.”
“You're adequate.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
Michael laughed, and the sound did something complicated to my insides. Made my wolf sit up and pay attention in a way that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
A knock at the front door saved me from having to examine that feeling too closely.
“Food's here,” I said, already moving.
“I gathered that. I may be sleep-deprived but I can still recognize basic cause and effect.”
I opened the door to find not a delivery person but Jonah standing on the porch, holding bags from Martha's and grinning like he knew exactly what he'd interrupted.
“Alpha,” he said cheerfully. “Heard you were playing handyman. Thought I'd bring the provisions.”
“Martha called you.”
“Martha calls everyone. It's her superpower.” He thrust the bags at me. “There's enough food in there for six people. She said, and I quote, 'that Harrington boy needs feeding and Daniel needs to stop hovering like a worried hen.'”
“I'm not hovering.”
“Sure you're not.” Jonah's grin widened. “Need anything else? A chaperone maybe?”
“Goodbye, Jonah.”
“Going, going.” He threw a wave toward the interior of the house. “Feel better, Mr. Harrington!”
“Thanks!” Michael called back. “And tell Martha I said thank you for the food and to stop gossiping about my eating habits!”
“Will do!”
I shut the door on Jonah's retreating laughter and carried the bags to the kitchen. Michael was already there, pulling out containers with an expression that was half hungry, half overwhelmed.
“She sent pie,” he said. “She sent three different kinds of pie.”
“Martha takes feeding people very seriously.”
“Apparently.” Michael opened the container of tomato soup and inhaled deeply. “That smells amazing. I forgot food could smell amazing.”
“Eat.”
“Still bossy.”
“Always.”
We ate at the kitchen counter because the table was covered with construction plans and sawdust. Michael made it through a whole bowl of soup and half a grilled cheese before his body seemed to remember it was supposed to be hungry. The color came back to his face slowly, gray giving way to pink, and by the time we got to the pie, he looked almost human again.
“I have a confession,” he said, scraping the last of the apple pie from his plate.
“What's that?”
