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Dylan’s eyes lit up and I groaned internally. He stepped forward and extended a hand. “Hey, Luke. I’m Dylan. You want some ice cream?”

Luke’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Ice cream,” Dylan repeated. “And then Hunter can tell us both why he’s such a dumbass. Because honestly, I’m as straight as they come and even I can see you’re hot, but this idiot just told me that he turned you down. Apparently, he doesn’t date shifters.”

“Really?” Hurt flashed across Luke’s features, hitting me like a punch to the gut.

“He assures me he has a good reason,” Dylan continued, making air quotes, “so come on through, and he can tell us both at once.”

Have you ever seen one of those wildlife documentaries where a pair of hyenas come in from either side to take down a gazelle? Because that was how I was feeling right now. Cornered, and with no hope of escape.

I glared at Dylan and he gave me a shit-eating grin. Asshole.

But Luke did deserve an explanation. And this might be my only chance to give him one. I led the way to the living room and sat in the armchair, and Luke and Dylan sat opposite me wearing fixed expressions, like the judging panel on a talent show—if the talent on display was “pissing off your werewolf friends.” In which case, I was a guaranteed winner.

“You weren’t kidding about the ice cream,” Luke said, nodding at the bowl in front of me.

“I can get you some,” Dylan offered from his spot on the couch.

Luke shook his head. “Not right now. I’m more interested in hearing why Hunter won’t go out with me.”

Okay then.

“It’s not personal,” I said.

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” Luke said.

“Worse,” Dylan supplied before digging his spoon into his ice cream.

“You’re not helping, Dyl.”

He pointed the spoon at me. “You said you’d explain. That sounds more like an excuse.”

“Why are we friends again?”

“Because I’m awesome and you have great taste. Now stop stalling and start talking.”

I looked over at Luke, who had that crease between his brows that he got when he was annoyed. I fought the urge to lean over and smooth it out with my thumb, and instead said, “So, I did date a shifter once. And that was enough.”

Some of the tension in Luke’s posture eased, and he sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “And?”

“Let’s just say that once he outlined the rules for dating a werewolf, I knew it wasn’t for me.”

Luke shot Dylan a confused look. “I’m new to shifting, but I’ve been around werewolves my whole life, and this is the first I’ve ever heard about dating rules.”

“Same,” said Dylan, “and I’ve been shifting since I was eleven.”

Luke gave a low whistle. “That early?”

Dylan shrugged, then turned his attention back to me. “We need to know more.”

I picked up my ice cream and prodded it with my spoon as I got my thoughts in order. Finally, I said, “So when I first moved to town, I dated a guy. And the first date was fine, I guess. He was loud and kind of opinionated, but I figured that, hey, this was a guy who could transform into three hundred pounds of raw power and muscle. Maybe he was entitled to be a little cocky with it.”

I looked up to find Luke nodding, so I carried on.

“We went on a second date. That one started okay, but when we got to the business end of the hookup, he insisted that there was no way werewolves bottomed.”

Luke barked out a harsh laugh. “You know that’s bullshit, right?”