I glance down at my cuts and bruises. Even if I passed my initial exam at the fire station, I’m in no shape to participate in the physical training for another few weeks, putting me that much further behind on my goal to join the department. I sigh, nuzzling my face in Sophie’s hair. When she finally steps out of my embrace, I feel a momentary pang of loss and quickly remind myself she’s still here, standing right beside me.
She pauses, withdraws her phone from her back pocket, and gazes down at the display; the message must be a long one, because Sophie continues staring at it. My heart clenches as I consider the possibilities. “Is anything wrong?”
She glances up at me, slightly bemused. “Oh no… it’s just a very long text from Cassia. My family is coming over tonight for dinner—all of them.” She hands me her phone so I can read Cassia’s message.
“Hey, Sophie, I’m so sorry about the bakery! I wanted to run over to help you with the cleanup, but we’re crazy busy, and your dad’s kitchen magic has gone kerflooey since he learned about the vandalism. The eggs are coming out green; the ham has yellow spots, and the butter is blue. The food tastes fine, and your mom says it’s perfectly safe to eat, but she’s been casting glamours all day to prevent the non-supers from freaking out.
“But it gets worse; Jake popped over to visit your dad in the kitchen… and the entire café heard your dad’s colorful Irish when Jake told him you and Teddy had a mate bond. Uncle Nash likes Teddy, but he’s not well-versed in werewolf bonds, and he’s not happy Teddy is living with you while he heals.
“So heads up, cuz… your dad is making dinner for you and Teddy tonight, and he’s coming over with your mom. Aunt Phoebe wants me and Olivia to come as buffers, and she invited Jake for the same reason. Granny got wind of the family dinner and has invited herself. Expect us at five o’clock.”
“Should I be worried?” I hand Sophie her phone.
“I don’t know what to think,” she says. “My dad is normally super calm; I guess my mom’s illness, the vandalism at the bakery, and learning about our mate bond has rattled him to the core. Other than his beard, my father’s magic is always tightly regulated.”
“What’s up with his beard?”
“Dad’s beard grows really, really fast; he has to trim it every morning. But when he’s upset, it grows muchfaster. If he shows up tonight with a long beard, then he’s very unhappy.”
Rather than making me anxious, as Sophie probably expects, I smile at her. “This isn’t funny!” she exclaims. “Don’t you realize my dad’s going to give you the third degree?”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping Nash does… it’s time I tell him and the rest of your family how I feel about you.”
“Oh… I see.” Sophie seems surprised but pleased; she stands on her tiptoes and plants a feather-soft kiss on my lips. When I try to deepen the kiss she steps out of reach. “You need to take a nap, and I need to clear off the dining room table so we can eat there tonight.”
“I can help,” I offer, but Sophie notices me stifling a yawn.
She shakes her head. “You can go lie down; I’ve got this.”
“But tidying and organizing are my super skills.”
“No buts about it, Mr. Clean, you need your rest; besides, I have a plan.”
Sophie’s plan probably involves temporarily shifting everything from the dining table to the top of her bed, but I can see I won’t win this argument. I shamble into my bedroom, shift Zosia over so there’s room for me, and promptly doze off, dreaming of eggs the color of Sophie’s Greenest Green.
When I waken I’m surprised to see it’s past four; I slept the entire afternoon away. Slowly, painfully, I rise from bed and proceed to change into something more appropriate to greet Sophie’s family than my gym shortsand tee. After fifteen minutes of fumbling I’m finally dressed in clean khaki slacks and a yellow short-sleeved shirt, and I’ve run a comb through my hair, detangling the worst of the knots.
Peering into the mirror, I frown; there’s no way I can hide the gashes and purple bruises on my face and arms. Hopefully Nash doesn’t see this as evidence of weakness and conclude I’m incapable of taking care of his daughter. I step out of my room in search of Sophie, but she’s easy to find; she’s in the bathroom with the door closed, belting out an old love ballad with all the gusto of a Broadway star.
Grinning at her off-key warbles, I cross the short hallway and push open the door to Sophie’s bedroom. Sure enough, the contents of the dining room table are piled haphazardly on her bed and floor. Zosia has followed me and now stands on the threshold, probably considering her sleeping arrangements for the evening.
When she screeches, “Wump!” and scurries away, I chuckle and close Sophie’s door. She set the table with mismatched plates and mugs in a rainbow of colors, and antique flatware that probably came from a garage sale; the overall effect is kitschy and cute. I gaze around the rest of the living-dining room combo and begin straightening up as best I can without straining my stitches.
The place is almost presentable when I’m finished, minus the stacks of boxes leaning against one wall that Sophie hasn’t had the time to unpack; the number of boxes has declined dramatically since my arrival nearly a month ago, so she’s making progress. As I pick up apillow that Zosia must have knocked to the floor, I’m struck by a sudden inspiration and step outside.
A row of pink hydrangeas, orange daylilies, and yellow-and-white daisies gently sway on the other side of the driveway. Extending the claws on my right hand, I begin slicing through the flower stems until I’ve formed a bouquet. Returning inside, I search for a vase, trying to decide where Sophie would store one. On my third attempt, I discover a cut crystal urn in the bottom cupboard next to the stove (another of Sophie’s hideaway spots), fill it with water, and place the flowers in the middle of the table.
Perfect; I’m nodding in satisfaction as a pair of slender arms reach around my waist, and the earthy scent of springtime—pulsing rainstorms and lush, green things—wafts up to my nose. “They’re beautiful, Teddy. You have a knack for floral arrangements.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” I ask.
Sophie laughs. “Because you’re a werewolf! Jake and Rob are more likely to step on a flower bed than notice it.”
I spin her around until she’s facing me; her gray eyes sparkle with humor and perhaps a touch of mischief. Her wavy brown locks are slightly damp, and she’s wearing a blue-and-yellow print sundress that shows off her luscious curves; my breath catches in my throat. I’m leaning down for a kiss, drawn by those irresistible lips, when there’s a firm knock on the front door.
Sophie blows me a kiss and whispers, “Showtime, wolf-boy. Behave yourself.”
I smooth back my hair with a smirk and take somestabilizing breaths as I attempt to get my skyrocketing pulse back under control. “I’ll take a rain check on that kiss.”
