“So…” Beck trailed off.
“I’m making a table.”
“Pretty sure at this point it’s a metaphor.” Beck crunched a nut. “Let me guess. You’re out here not thinking about the innkeeper.”
“I’m not?—”
“You’ve been monitoring her wards from your phone like it’s a newborn baby monitor. You drove past her inn twice yesterday. And you haven’t dated anyone in the three years since you’ve been back, but suddenly you’ve got that look.” Beck grinned. “The look of a man who’s about to do a spectacularly stupid thing.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely have a look. It’s somewhere between ‘I should stay away’ and ‘I physically cannot stay away.’ Very tortured. Very alpha romance novel.”
Theo set down the sandpaper. He wasn’t going to win this argument, and they both knew it. Beck had known him since they were pups; lying to him was pointless.
“You should stay away,” Beck continued, reading his silence. “Pack politics. Coven dynamics. The fact that half the Elders think the mating surge is going to cause the apocalypse. Very sensible to maintain distance.”
“But?”
“But you’re miserable. And you’ve been miserable for years, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.” Beck’s voice lost its teasing edge. “Ask her to dinner. Tell her it’s a strategy meeting. She’ll see through it, but at least you’ll have plausible deniability.”
“That’s your advice? Lie to her?”
“I’m saying give yourself an excuse to spend time with her. The truth can come later.” Beck hopped off the workbench. “Or you can keep sanding that table until there’s nothing left. Your call.”
He paused at the door, his easy manner shifting. “Be careful, yeah? You know Garrett.”
Theo stirred, hackles rising at the mention of his cousin. “Garrett can?—”
“I know what Garrett can do.” Beck’s grin returned, sharper now. “I’m saying, if you’re going to pursue the witch, do it with your eyes open. Your cousin’s not going to let an opportunity like this pass without comment.”
“Garrett’s my problem, not yours.”
“Always do.” Beck was gone before Theo could respond.
Theo looked down at the maple. He’d sanded it so thin he could almost see through it.
He reached for his phone.
She answeredon the third ring. “Theo.”
Her voice. No surprise, no confusion. Like she’d been expecting his call.
Something in him perked up at the sound, which was deeply unhelpful.
“I wanted to discuss the ward maintenance schedule.” The words came out stiff. Formal. Exactly like a man who was definitely not asking someone on a date. “Tonight? Seven?”
Silence. Then a soft laugh that stirred heat low in his stomach. “The ward maintenance schedule. I’ll meet you at Vito’s.”
She hung up. Theo stared at his phone for a long moment, feeling like he’d agreed to a great deal more than dinner.
His wolf was practically vibrating with satisfaction.
He went home to change anyway.
Avine openedthe door at exactly seven o’clock, and Theo’s carefully constructed composure crumbled.
She was wearing a deep green dress that shouldn’t have been remarkable—simple cut, modest neckline—but made his mouth go dry. Her dark hair was down, loose waves falling past her shoulders instead of the practical twist she usually wore. And her eyes—some kind of makeup made them look even bigger, even more arresting.
