“I’m not sure you should be asking me after the big bad wolf debacle,” I say wryly.
He chuffs. “Not like I haven’t heard that story a million times. I’m serious. What are your favorites?”
I hesitate. My favorites are…really specific. Probably not what he’s looking for. I fumble for a more mainstream recommendation, but my brain is blank. This guy has me rattled for some reason. I should have called in Smashleigh for reinforcements after all.
He must sense my inner turmoil, because he takes a step closer to me, back into my circle of personal space. So close I can smell his cedar and huckleberries again. My mouth waters. “I really want to know, Julia,” he murmurs softly.
He knows my name?Shock sparks through me until I realize I am wearing a nametag on my store-issued apron. Duh, Julia. I need to exit this conversation ASAP before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
“These,” I say, pointing to my favorite board books. It’s not a new series. My girls had them, and they’rein college now. But they’re the books I saved when I packed up their baby stuff. They’re the ones I flip through at the bookstore when I have a spare minute. They just have a certain kind of magic.
He picks one up and thumbs through it while I babble on. “Kind of an artsy choice. It’s a series of four traditional folktales illustrated with woodcuts by a pretty famous Korean artist. The black-and-white images are great for babies’ eye development. And the bad guys are tigers. No big bad wolves in sight.”
He grins, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth, and abruptly snaps the book shut. “Perfect. Truly.”
I haven’t blushed this much since the ninth-grade Homecoming dance when Arjun Pickett asked me to dance.
“I mean it,” he insists, grabbing all four books in the series. “You couldn’t know this, but I’m a woodcutter. Not the kind that makes art, the kind that literally chops wood. The woodcut thing…these will be the perfect present from Uncle Ian.”
So Ian is his name. He’s a woodcutter. The cedar part of his scent suddenly makes sense. I wonder where the huckleberry part comes from. I want to ask, but that might make things even weirder than they’ve been already.
“Glad I could help.” I lead him to the register and ring him up, feeling relieved that the wholeencounter turned around. “Thanks for coming in. And for being so understanding.”
“Hey, um. Weird question,” Ian-the-wolf-guy mumbles as I hand him the paper bag with the books tucked inside. “Would you maybe want to get a cup of coffee after your shift?”
Chapter 2
Ian
Julia is so fucking delectable, I want to lean over the counter and bite her soft, flushed cheek. Behind her quirky little glasses, she has these sparkling brown eyes that eat into me, like she can see my inner thoughts. Good thing, because I’m so unprepared for her that I can hardly put together a sentence.
I had no idea when I walked into this bookshop to get a baby gift for my new nephews and niece that I’d find mymate.
I’d actually been feeling pretty sorry for myself this morning after stopping by Conall and Meg’s to drop off a huckleberry pie I baked last night. Meg’s belly is getting huge, and Conall is doting on her. She’s knitting little rompers with tail holes in the back, and he’s baby-proofing the table-and-chair legs against needle-sharp baby teeth. Their den is just glowing with love. Pretty soon they’re going to have a pack of pups running around.
I’m so happy for them, but I’m really goddamn jealous, too. I went home and ate the other whole pie by myself. Where’smymate? Where’smypack of pups? I’m five years older than him. I should have found my mate a decade ago.
My sire would say I’ve been looking for love in the wrong places. “Not going to find a lass in the deep wids, are yeh?” he likes to drawl in his rough Scottish brogue.
Evenhewouldn’t expect to find her in a little bookshop in town, though. My issue isn’t that I haven’t been looking. I just haven’t been looking for ahuman.
Here she is, though. Right in front of me. And she’s gorgeous. She’s got goddess-level curves and shiny, dark-brown hair with a few glittering, silver strands framing her face. Her glossy, plump lips curve in a smile as she hands me my bag. Everything about herislickable. “Thanks for coming in. And for being so understanding.”
Our interaction is almost over. I panic and scramble for some way to prolong it. I can’t tell her that we’re mates right now. That would be weird. She’s on the clock.
But I can’t just walk away, either. I don’t know her last name or where she lives. I don’t know when I’ll see her again, and that’s completely unacceptable.
“Hey, um. Weird question. Would you maybe want to get a cup of coffee after your shift?” My voice quavers and cracks.Quavers.
She stiffens and glances over her shoulder. Probably looking for security. Shit.
“To chat about kids’ books,” I fudge. “I won’t take up too much of your time, but you seem really knowledgeable, and I want to be the bedtime-story uncle. Plus, I feel like I owe you a coffee for all your help. I don’t mind waiting. The café is right next door.”
Her whole body relaxes. “Oh. Gosh. That would be nice. My shift is over in fifteen.”
“I’ll see you then.” I retreat before she changes her mind.
The spot next door, Three Wishes Coffee House, is a mom-and-pop place run by a djinn and his human wife. It has a breezy, bohemian vibe with lots of indoor plants and pillows that I hope will soften theatmosphere for the absolutely insane conversation I’m about to have.
