He tied the shirt around his waist and checked himself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure that his ass wasn’t on display.
With his ripped jeans situation somewhat sorted – at least to the point that he could get an Uber home and put on some clean, undamaged clothes – Dylan spent some time snooping in Ryker and August’s closet.
It wasn’t nearly as interesting as he’d expected it to be. Considering some of the outfits he’d seen the two alphas wearing, he’d thought the shelves would be full of leather and borderline bondage gear, but they obviously kept that stuff somewhere else.
It was probably stored somewhere in the playroom, but Dylan was not about to go exploring in there.
Exiting the walk-in closet, Dylan grabbed his phone, checked that his keys were in his pocket, and headed for the elevator. He wasn’t really hungry, and so he decided to skip breakfast and ask Annie if she wanted to meet up for an early lunch instead.
An hour later – after a quick trip home to change his clothes and grab his laptop charger – he was sitting in his favorite coffee shop, working on his thesis and listening to his favorite tunes. Annie had texted him back that she’d meet him for lunch after her morning classes, and so Dylan was snacking on a blueberry muffin to take the edge off his hunger while he waited.
It was a little dry, but since he’d paid six dollars for it, he was determined to eat the whole thing and enjoy it.
A large leather-clad foot nudged his shin, startling Dylan and almost making him spill his coffee all over his laptop keyboard. He put his cup down, took out his earbuds and looked up.
Steve was standing next to his chair, looking illegally handsome in his tight police uniform and knee-high leather boots. He had his helmet tucked under his arm, his leather jacket unzipped to reveal his bulky pecs and trim waist.
“Sorry about that,” Steve said, his lips curving in a rueful grin. “Mind if I sit, or are you busy?”
Dylan wasn’t surprised to see the werewolf officer. The coffee shop was obviously on Steve’s beat, and Dylan enjoyed it when he stopped by to say hello.
“No, I’m just working on my thesis,” Dylan closed the lid on his laptop, gesturing for Steve to take a seat in the chair across from him. “You know how it is. Are you on your break?”
Steve sat down, putting his helmet on the table next to Dylan’s cup. He lifted his right foot and rested it on his knee, putting his boot on display and making Dylan flash back to the last time he’d been this close to one of Steve’s boots.
His mouth watered.
“No, not really. I just saw you through the window again and wanted to say hi.” Steve leaned back, visibly relaxing into the comfortable chair. He grinned, tugging off his gloves and tossing them on the table. “I hope you don’t mind? I can only stay a few minutes.”
Dylan shook his head. “Not at all. We’re friends, right?”
Steve nodded, his grin widening. His teeth were perfect. “I’d like to think so.”
“Me too.”
Went unsaid was the fact that before last night, they could potentially have been more than friends.
“So how is your day going?” Dylan asked.
He put his laptop down and reached for his drink.
Steve rested his palm on his knee, drumming his fingers as he shrugged. “It’s cold, but so far so good. I helped a kitten out of a tree this morning, so that was fun.”
“How?” Dylan hadn’t really pictured Steve as the kitten rescuing type.
“I climbed up. It got a little spooked and tried to jump, but I managed to catch it.” Steve grinned, rolling up his sleeve. “It scratched me good. See, it still hasn’t healed.”
Dylan looked at the perfectly smooth skin on Steve’s wrist and then up at the werewolf’s face. Steve glanced down at his arm and flushed. “Well, it hadn’t healed thirty minutes ago. But you can see the blood on my shirt.” He tugged on his sleeve, pulling it out from underneath his leather jacket.
Dylan nodded at the specks of dark on Steve’s shirt, amused by this side of Steve. He really was adorable – which was quite the feat for a man who looked like he could beat up a whole team of professional wrestlers by himself.
“I believe you.” Dylan grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. “So what did you do with the cat, after rescuing it and getting injured?”
“I gave it to the old man who called it in. Apparently it belonged to his sister.” Steve pushed his sleeve back down and shrugged. He looked over at the menu over the counter, like he was thinking about getting a drink, but then the radio on his hip crackled to life and pushed to his feet.
“I need to get that,” he said, grabbing his gloves and helmet. He zipped up his coat before putting them on. “But it was nice to see you.”
He was about to turn around when Dylan spoke, stopping him in his tracks.
