When we stepped back out into the café, the clink of cups and low murmur of voices washed back in, softer than I remembered it being.
Dane’s gaze drifted toward the counter, then landed on the flyer I’d left near the edge of the workspace.
“So,” he said, voice a little easier now, “Oakridge Harvest Market next week?”
“I was actually going to ask Janine to go,” I said.
Dane raised an eyebrow, amused. “And now?”
I looked at him for a moment longer than I needed to, the answer already forming before I fully committed to saying it out loud.
“I’m still going.” A pause. “Maybe with you.”
Dane hummed. “Well, I’m already going.”
I blinked at him. “You are?”
“Brownie competition,” he added, like that explained everything.
I licked my lips, the memory of his brownies sharp enough that I could almost taste them again.
“You’re entering?”
“Maybe,” he said, clearly entertained by my reaction.
Something in me sparked before I could stop it.
“Could you save me some?” I asked, then quickly added, “Or make me an extra batch?”
Dane let out a quiet laugh. “I can bake you some whenever you want,” he said simply.
A warm feeling spread through me. “Anytime?” I asked.
“Anytime.”
16
DANE
The smell of charcoal hit me the second I stepped out of my truck. For a moment, I just sat there with my hands on the steering wheel.
The last time we'd had a family cookout like this, I'd stood behind a grill listening to my parents discuss my nonexistent love life.
I'd watched my brothers with their mates and tried not to feel like the odd wolf out. It was funny how much could change in a few weeks. Seth reached over and squeezed my knee.
"You okay?" Seth asked.
I looked at him. Gosh, but he looked good.
Seth, who stole my fries first at a hotel room, then many times after. The man who always smelled faintly of vanilla and coffee.
Seth, who somehow managed to occupy half my thoughts without even trying.
"Yeah," I said, smiling. "Just thinking."
“You have a tendency to overthink things,” Seth pointed out.
“True, and I apologise for that,” I told him.
