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He shrugged, offering me a tiny, shy smile. “It was nothing.”

I got up and helped him unpack all the food before hurrying into the back room to grab us some forks and napkins. As well as all the pie and my omelette, Brian had got himself a cheeseburger and fries, an omelette of his own, meatloaf, a club sandwich and a milkshake.

“So…” I began, tucking a curl behind my ear as we both started eating our omelettes. “Did you work today?”

I already figured I’d be carrying this conversation for the most part, and I didn’t mind in the slightest. I liked to talk, and it was just nice to have some company during one of these boring night shifts.

Very pretty, hunky eye candy who happened to be the cutest werewolf I’d ever met.

And whose dick I very much enjoyed having in my mouth.

“Yeah.” He nodded, neatly cutting into his omelette with the side of his fork as he balanced the polystyrene container on his knee. “Um, that’s how I… Vince mentioned the Elfknot earlier and I remembered he knew you from here, and I wanted to—” He stopped and sat up straighter, eyes darting to the door. “Shit, I forgot. I actually got you—Um, I brought something. To replace the clothes I, uh, ruined. At Cratos.” He wet his lips, and his voice was croakier when he added, “I’m so sorry about that, by the way.”

I’d frozen, a forkful of omelette halfway to my mouth. I was starting to realise that when Brian did speak, he tended to say everything in his brain all at once. Which was totally fine, it just meant I had to take a second to sift through it all.

“You don’t need to be sorry about anything that happened at Cratos,” I said calmly. “I loved it. All of it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, shoulders hunching. “I always get a little, um, riled up when I fight, and I wasn’t very… gentle.”

“I didn’t want gentle.” I grinned at him.

He blushed again, looking down at his food. “I just don’t want you to think I’m… you know, only interested in you for sex.”

My heart thudded hard.

Unholy shit.

Had a guy ever, ever said that to me before?

And actually meant it?

“I—Oh.” I was suddenly incredibly flustered. I set down my fork to tuck a stray curl behind my ear, then fiddled with my pendant. “O-okay. I… um… Okay.”

Suddenly I was the one speaking in stilted sentences. Weirdly, it felt like I might burst into tears at any second. Which I knew said far, far more about all the men I’d been involved with in the past than what Brian had just said to me.

My hand was trembling a little as I picked my fork back up and poked at my omelette. “So you… you’re… interested. In me…?”

It wasn’t quite a statement, nor was it wholly a question. It was somewhere in between.

“Yes.” Brian cleared his throat, cheeks bright pink. He reached for his milkshake. “I’d like to get to know you better. If you don’t mind. If you want to, I mean.”

“I want to,” I said quickly. “I’d like that a lot. I’m… I’m interested in you too. For more than just sex, I mean. Although… well, the sex so far has been amazing.”

His pale eyes flickered to me, filled with uncertainty. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” I nodded emphatically. “Sooo good.”

His mouth twitched before his lips spread into a brief grin. “Okay. Good. I mean… yeah, it has for me too. Obviously.”

We lapsed into silence as we started eating again, and surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all, even though we barely knew each other. Silence seemed to be Brian’s natural state, and I was still absorbing what he’d just said to me, my belly fluttering almost too much for me to keep eating.

He was interested. In me. As a person. Not just for sex.

I couldn’t stop smiling. He kept flashing me tiny, brief smiles too every time our eyes met, and he was starting to seem more relaxed and at ease in my presence. When we’d finished our omelettes, we shared the fries before Brian got started on the rest of his food. He offered me some of all of it, looking pleased when I took tiny bites of his burger and meatloaf.

While we ate, I told him bits and pieces about my life. About my aunt and uncle owning the motel, about Nat and how we’d been best friends since eighth grade, about what had happened with Clarence at Club Cratos after I’d left the locker room.

“Oh man.” He chuckled, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sitting back in the armchair as he finished the last of his club sandwich. “He sounds like a… character.”