“Matt and Amanda.” Liam turned back toward me, the smile gone from his lips. “Did you want to bring anyone besidesSarah?”
What he was really asking me was if I planned on inviting August. “No.”
Liam’s umber eyes glittered like topaz in the sunlight streaming through the loft windows set high enough that no one could look into the gym, a good thing considering our morningactivity.
Not August?he asked through the mind-link.
Before he could get his hopes up, I said, “He’s busy. Anyway, I need to go. Tomorrow, I’m running with Matt at six-thirty andthen?”
“That’s it for tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to tire you too much before our big nightout.”
Snorting, I waved and unbolted the heavy doors. Before heading to my car, I made a pit stop at the drug store on the corner. I grabbed a basket and went aisle to aisle, tossing in energy bars and ultra-moisturizing conditioners and lotions, because my skin and hair felt brittle from all my shifting. As I turned a corner, I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen in a longtime.
Tamara let out a littleoomph,and what she clutched fell on the ground. I crouched and picked it up. She snatched it from me, her cheeks going as red as herhair.
“It’s not for me,” shesaid.
I sniffed the air, remembering Sarah telling me shifters could scent pregnancies. My sense of smell was definitely not as sharp as Sarah’s or Lucas’s, and would probably dull further because of my Sillin intake, but over Tamara’s flowery scent, I smelled something else—loamy earth. Since I wasn’t standing in the gardening aisle of Home Depot, I assumed she was giving off thatscent.
And there was this tiny fluttering vibration in the air betweenus.
Aheartbeat?
Tamara was halfway down the aisle before I said, “It’s going to bepositive.”
She froze and then slowly spun around, green feline eyes narrowing. “I told you, it’s not forme.”
As she whirled back around, wavy hair bouncing against her shoulders, the enormity of her news hit me. Even though I could be wrong—but I doubted it—Tamara was carrying a werewolfbaby.
Liam’s.
20
After showering,I met Evelyn at The Silver Bowl where she was interviewing for the position of head cook. The establishment was extremely fancy, which intimidated Evelyn. Before she could choke herself from tightening the red silk scarf tied around her neck, I grabbed both her hands and towed them off the scarf Mom left her in the will she’d scrawled on a legalpad.
“You do realize you already have the job, don’tyou?”
“If I had the job, I would not be passing aninterview.”
I smiled. “This isn’t an interview. It’s a meeting to discuss your salary andhours.”
“I should have made them mypolvorones,” she said, completely disregarding my comment. “Or mytaquitos.”
I squeezed her hands. “You don’t need to woo them. They need to wooyou.”
Her black eyes bolted to mine. “Bueno.”
Feeling her composure strengthening, I let go of her hands. “Want me to come inside withyou?”
“No. I will be allright.”
“Te quiero, Evelyn.” I rarely spoke Spanish but understood itperfectly.
Her eyes got allmisty.
“Go.” I tipped my head to the restaurant. “I’ll wait outhere.”
As she hobbled to the door, dragging her bad leg, she checked over her shoulder a few times as though to make sure I was really staying put. And I’d planned to, but when fifteen minutes had gone by and the scent of charred coffee beans and chilled milk ribboned toward me, I headed toward the coffee house nextdoor.
