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Nope. I couldn’t date someone who was a possessive asshole.

And sure, I’d never really seen that side of Luke, but maybe it was like the claws and fangs, only coming out when the occasion called for it. Still, it was hard for me to picture him having a jealous streak.

I guessed I’d never know.

And that was a good thing, I reminded myself firmly. I’d made the right call.

So why did everything feel wrong?

The water hitting my chest turned cold, jolting me out of my pity party, and I turned the faucet off quickly and dried myself and pulled on some clean clothes. It was time to tell Dylan about my terrible dates with a werewolf.

I stepped out into the living room and saw that while I’d been showering he’d started the fire, and the flames crackled as they bathed the living room in a low golden light and sent out tendrils of heat. It made me breathe a little easier. Anyone else might have let the room stay cold, just to let me know they were pissed. But Dylan was too nice for that, which was part of the reason why him being a werewolf hadn’t freaked me out like it might have. If I’d found out about shifters from someone who was less chill, my reaction might have been completely different, but I’d lucked out with the gentlest soul in the world.

Wow. It’s almost like all werewolves aren’t the same, a snarky inner voice whispered.

I could have done without the sarcasm, but I had to admit that the voice had a point. Had I been stereotyping shifters?

I didn’t like how the answer made me feel.

But then I’d liked the way Kevin had made me feel like a possession even less.

Dylan came out of the kitchen carrying two bowls of ice cream. He held one out to me and I took it as the peace offering it was.

“Thanks.”

Dylan sank into the couch, and I was about to join him when there was a sharp, persistent knock at the door.

Dylan and I looked at each other. He looked at his ice cream, then up at me, then at the door.

“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll go.”

I marched to the door, fully prepared to yell at whoever was trying to sell me something this late on a Friday night. Except when I yanked it open, it wasn’t a salesman standing there.

It was Luke.

My heart leapt at the sight of him, and warmth spread through my chest before I could stop it. But did I say, “Hey, great to see you?” or anything to show I was glad he was here? No. Instead continuing my history of saying dumb shit when I was caught off guard, I said, “What are you doing here?”

He shuffled from foot to foot, his breath making white clouds in the evening air, and reached into his pocket.

For one horrible moment, I thought he was going to pull out a weapon in a classic jilted lover move and I tensed, ready to duck. But when his hand reappeared, he was holding my wallet. “I found this under the couch.”

Relief washed over me, and I held out my hand. “Thanks. I didn’t even know I’d lost it.”

Luke didn’t hand it over, though. “The wallet’s not the only reason I’m here.” He jutted his chin out. “I know you said you don’t want to date, but I call bullshit.”

“What?”

He caught my gaze and held it. “I like you, Hunter, and I thought you liked me too. You sure as hell acted like it. So I feel like if you’re going to turn me down, you could at least tell me why. Also, can I come in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“Sure.” I opened the door wider and stood aside so he could come inside. Luke glanced around, taking in the small foyer with the colorful rag rug, the shoes lined up along the wall under the coat hooks, and the polished floorboards and cream-painted wooden walls. “Nice place.”

“We like it,” I said. I probably would have stood there like a fool indefinitely if Dylan hadn’t poked his head out of the living room door, saying, “Who is it?” His gaze caught on Luke. “Hey.”

He looked between Luke and me, one eyebrow raised.

“This is Luke,” I said. “My client.”

Luke lifted the hand holding my wallet. “I was just dropping something off.”