Killian blushed bright red. “I didn’t think you were looking at my—!”
“Sweetheart, you bent all the way over to grab those cookies. In front of me.”
“Oh gods, I need a fountain. My face is burning.”
Crush laughed again, low and silky, the sound stroking down Killian’s spine like a caress.
Killian made a soft, choked sound. Crush’s laugh abruptly cut off.
“Is something wrong?” Killian asked worriedly. “You stopped laughing.”
The alpha’s answer was low and rumbling. “No, nothing’s wrong. You sound good.”
Was it Killian, or did Crush soundpleased?
“Um, okay,” Killian squeaked, unsure how to deal with this. “I’ll just... say hi to the cart.”
“Of course.”
Slowly, Killian approached the shopping cart. “Hey there. You shouldn’t stay in the garage; it’s not a good place for you. Let’s go somewhere else.”
The cart turned toward him, squeaking its wheels as though asking where they were going.
“Into the cabin,” Killian replied. “But first... Let me do this.”
He carefully transferred some of the grocery bags from the trunk into the cart’s cargo basket. Then he led the way to the only other door in the garage; this door opened into the rest of the cabin.
The moment Killian saw the beautiful hardwood floors, he made the cart roll back and forth on the welcome mat, so it wouldn’t track dirt all over Crush’s clean floors.
“Good cart,” Killian said, patting its side. The cart wriggled, eagerly following him through the doorway.
Crush’s cabin was something out of an architectural magazine. High vaulted ceilings rose over the open floor plan; large windows let in plenty of light. The place was furnished with comfy couches and colorful rugs, lots of pillows that Killian immediately wanted to hoard. Several photographs of fancy cars hung on the walls, and smaller models of cars were scattered throughout the cabin.
As they moved through the space, lights lit up, casting everything in a beautiful golden glow.
Killian felt too poor to be in a place like this. “Let’s get the groceries put away.”
The kitchen was just as beautiful. The cabinets were a rich dark brown, matching the polished island counter. A large fridgehummed in one corner. When Killian peeked inside, he found only condiments, bottled drinks, and some aged salami.
This was why Crush had filled up their cart so full.
Killian unloaded the groceries, his stomach growling. “Dammit! I left the donuts in the backseat.”
Were they even intact? Crush had probably squished them when he’d climbed into the back seat; Killian had shoved them aside in his hurry to leap back into the car.
“I think they’re probably crushed,” said Crush from somewhere in the forest, further away.
“Is that the reason for your name?” Killian asked, suddenly curious. “Is Crush your actual legal name?”
Crush laughed. “Funny story: I was born third in a litter of pups. You’ve met Titan; he’s two minutes older than me. Anyway, because there were so many of us, our parents wanted to get to know us first, before picking out our names. One day, they brought us out to the garden to play. I got away from my siblings, rolled around in the dirt, and crushed a whole row of sprouts.
“My dad picked me up to contain the damage, but I must’ve found my way out somehow; the next day, I was back in that same patch of dirt, rolling around and crushing the rest of the seedlings. So... it became my legal name, yes.”
Killian groaned. “Oh gods, those poor plants!”
“I don’t have any memory of it, obviously. But my parents have photo evidence.”
“I would totally peek at those photos and use them as blackmail material,” Killian blurted.
