The boy, whom I now recognize as the red-faced, white wolf from last night, gathers his things in a hurry, not bothering to shove them in his bag before he races through the rain and out the door.
Elliot claims the empty seat across from me, shaking out his ears and tail before reaching for my fries.
“That was a bit excessive, don’t you think?”
“Not at all,” he says.
“He was just hiding out from the rain.”
Elliot shrugs.
“He knows better.”
I roll my eyes.
“What do you want, Cross?”
“Come home,” he says, popping a fry in his mouth and dusting the salt from his fingers. “The kids miss you.”
I snatch the basket back to set them out of his reach.
“I’m serious. You know I don’t like people messing with my food.”
The little hoop in his right brow jerks, and he fingers the choker around his neck as he frowns at me.
“What, you’re mad about Covington?” He waves in the direction he’d run off to. “Princess, I promise you, one kiss would have killed him.”
That stupid nickname makes my teeth grind. But he’s not wrong. Based on the speed with which Covington made his exit, I’d say Elliot’s right. But I’ll be damned before I tell him that.
“I had it handled,” I say.
“Clearly, not,” he counters. “If you did, you would have called me first. And you’d be full by now.”
“Why would I ever call you first?”
He laughs, and I fist my hands to keep from strangling him out in the open.
“Because, unfortunately…” He pauses. “You and I are committed at the moment.”
“Committed? Committed to what?”
He reaches across my body, smiling as his mouth hovers over mine, and drags the basket back to his side of the table.
“Each other,” he says.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
* * *
Elliot somehow manages to eat my entire basket of fries in three bites. But when the rain stops, he makes his way back to the counter and returns with two more.
One covered in a worrisome amount of salt, and another drowning in melted cheese.
He sets them on the table, nudging the cheese in my direction like a peace offering, which I accept. But only because I’m still hungry and these are my favorites.
He sits across from me, blissfully shoving fries in his mouth.
“Can you stop doing that?” he asks around a mouthful.
