Unwrapping the brand new markers, I lined up my list of names and the pile of rectangles.
The television played the opening music of a popular rom-com movie—probably not his first choice of movies, but it was sweet of him to pick something that would cheer me up.
Smiling, I scrawled out the first name in my best cursive and pushed it toward Caspian. He slid it into a sleeve and set it aside. Soon we had a neat pile of completed tags, my hand hurting to prove it.
On screen, the couple fought over a job promotion, shooting banter back and forth.
Caspian frowned as I shook my hand out. “Here, let’s take a break, or let me take over writing the names.”
“They need to look pretty,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek.
He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “And you don’t think I can write nicely?”
He took the marker from my hand and slid the list of names over, writing Juniper across the top in a lovely script. My hand tingled from where our skin had brushed.
“Are you serious? How do you know calligraphy?” I asked, covering my mouth to smother a disbelieving laugh.
“Maybe I just have really nice handwriting,” he said. “So want to swap jobs? Or you can go watch the movie and I’ll do both parts.”
“I’m not abandoning you,” I said, rolling my eyes as I pushed the entire pile of cardboard tags to his side of the table and took the hangers for myself.
“Good,” he said softly, his gray eyes vulnerable in a way that pinched my heart. Pursing my lips, I focused on cramming the first tag he handed me into its sleeve.
The doorbell chimed. Caspian slid out of his seat and crossed the room before I could process what happened. By the time I caught up, he’d paid the delivery woman.
“Would you stop doing that?” I chided him.
His answer was a smug smile. “I’m not just arm candy, Mrs. Rafferty.”
My feet froze at the name. His last name, not mine. A flush crawled up my neck and warmed my cheeks. I fought the urge to press my palms over my face and hide.
“That’s not my name,” I said weakly, trailing after him to the sofa.
He harrumphed and started opening takeout containers. “Agree to disagree. Want me to get plates, or should we eat out of the containers?” His expression turned wry at the suggestion.
“I don’t care,” I said, sinking down beside him and folding my legs under me. Grabbing chopsticks, I reached for the container of lemon chicken. He copied my movement and popped a bite of beef broccoli into his mouth.
“So, you saw my immediate family. Tell me about your brothers.” I glanced up at him.
The movie chattered in the background, the couple stuck together on a silly task that brought them closer together, but all of my focus was on Caspian.
He chewed and swallowed, looking up at me. Heat pooled low in my stomach every time he stared at me like that.
“I’ve got two brothers, Adrian and Malik. They’re both older than me.”
“Are they like you?”
“What do you mean? Tall? Handsome? Funny?”
“I was thinking selkies, but of course they are,” I muttered.
He grinned. “Yeah, they’re selkies.”
He didn’t mock me for asking a dumb question the way my ex-husband would have, just answered genuinely. “The whole family is selkies except my cousin’s wife, who is a wolf shifter."
“Did they find your cousin's coat like I did?” I asked.
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Nah, they’re fated mates.”
