“You seem to be doing all the checking out,” I chuckle coyly, to which Yvonne gasps and reels back.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses, finally averting her eyes and staring at the floor.
Chuckling, my chin lifts with haughtiness because I have her right where I want her.
“Oh, come now, Yvie…” I taunt, wiggling my brows playfully. “You and I both know you were checking me out.”
Yvonne gasps again, then quickly frowns to wear a mask of indignance as if I didn’t just catch her drooling at the sight of my body.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dawson!” she retorts with a huff as she tightens her folded arms across her chest.
“Am I being ridiculous?” I drawl smoothly, stepping over the threshold to get closer to her, enjoying this little argument of ours. But when I take a step forward, it isn’t very calculated, and my left knee gives out on the side where I’d been injured.
I’d been too distracted to realize that the injuries I suffered were harsher than I’d like to admit. When I stumble forward, a pair of dainty, warm hands catch my shoulders in an attempt to steady me.
Our eyes meet, locking for a second that seems to extend into eternity when time loses its essence, and all that’s left is the immeasurable depths of the silkiest silver eyes that seem to reel me in. My heart skips a beat, but the profound moment is lost when Yvonne clears her throat uncomfortably and steps back.
“You’re hurt, Dawson,” she says flatly, her voice becoming stern, taking on the tone of a mother.
“I am hurt…” I relent softly, insinuating something else that pains me when she becomes cold again. “I am an alpha. I will heal quickly.”
“You should be resting at home,” she grunts under her breath, awkwardly removing her hands from my shoulders. When she takes a step back, her eyes go to my torso, but this time, she isn’t ogling.
She sighs and reluctantly lifts her eyes back to mine. “That needs a fresh wrap,” she says ruefully, then nods inside. “Come on. I have a medical kit in the bathroom.”
Hesitating as I brace a hand on the wall, I inadvertently brace myself for another series of verbal attacks, but to my surprise, they don’t come.
Yvonne is serious? I think as I watch her lead the way, stopping at the doorway that leads to the kitchen.
“Gio!” she calls out to her son. “Look who’s here to see you,” she says as she passes a wary glance at me as if to warn me to behave. “Why don’t you show Alpha Dawson to the pot. He can eat if he’s hungry.”
I have a feeling that comment was more for me than an instruction to the little boy, but I take what I can get, heading to the kitchen while Yvonne disappears toward the bathroom. For a hot second, I thought she was taking me with her, but we can’t have any privacy with a little kid around.
Not that I mind when the little boy rushes forward and grabs my hand to pull me into the kitchen. He shows me to a seat before excitedly returning to his, beaming from ear to ear as he points to my injury.
“What happen?” he inquires, propping his chin on one hand as his mother returns with the medical kit.
“It appears your hero bleeds,” Yvonne chuckles sarcastically as she sets the kit down with a deliberate thud and trains her penetrating eyes on me. “Why don’t you tell us how you got hurt today, Alpha Dawson?”
As Yvonne pulls up a chair beside me, I have every reason to believe that she wants me to humor Gio with the tale of my valiant fight against the bear only so that I keep talking while she’s patching me up. Distracted with keeping Gio entertained, I wouldn’t have to notice the way she’s ogling me, checking me out as her fingertips casually brush across my ribcage.
It doesn’t stop me from catching small glimpses of her while she stitches up the wound, noticing that her breath hitches every time my muscles flex when she pierces the needle through my flesh.
She might not be ready to admit it, but Yvonne does remember what we shared. I’m sure of it. It’s just a matter of time before I get her to open up to me and reignite the passion we once shared.
In the meantime, it seems that her son is more open to the idea of having me around, paying keen attention to my tales of battle and combating wild animals in the forests of Alaska. When Yvonne announces that she’s done, dashing off to the bathroom to return the first aid kit there, Gio grabs my arm and tugs me off the chair, then proceeds to lead me to the couch.
For a young boy, he’s quite smart and shows an ambitious interest in my stories.
“Tell more!” he demands excitedly as he sits on his knees beside me, tiny fists pounding his lap. “I wanna hear more!”
“Oh, aren’t you an eager little one?” I chuckle, a hesitant frown furrowing my brows for a split second when I recognize something in the little boy.
It’s evident that he’ll be a brave werewolf when he grows up, and it has me wondering if his father was an alpha.
It’s highly unlikely, since Yvonne was facing wickedness at the hands of the Moonshine Pack. Unless she was his mistress, or he died before he could announce their mate bond to the pack.
There are endless possibilities, and a pang of pity grips my chest as Yvonne returns to the kitchen, avidly avoiding us in the living room as she tends to the dishes. She must have gone through a lot.
