Page 48 of The Independent Girl's Guide to Mating with a Werewolf

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“Vegetarians.”

He snorted. “That joke’s bad, Hoover.”

“I know. I don’t think it’s politically acceptable.” I sighed dramatically. “I should probably apologize to someone. Or everyone.”

“To all vegetarians, I would say.”

“Alright. To all vegetarians in the room, I apologize.” I looked around our empty kitchen. “I think they’re okay.”

“Might need some therapy, but they’ll pull through.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning.

“You look happy too.” He poked my nose with the butt of his fork, and I wrinkled it at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I despise werewolfhood.”

“And mate bonds.”

“Right. Arranged marriage? No thanks.”

He poked my nose again. “Maybe Iamhappy.”

“Maybe I am too.”

“Maybe I like having a mate. Havingyou,” he said.

“Maybe you love it.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. Fate can concur that I make a great-mail order bride.”

“All of the scarred cowboys would be desperate to make you theirs. You’re the full package,” Wyatt agreed.

Something told me Abby had convinced their book club to read a book about that. Western romances with mail-order brides were in the middle of her favorites list, a few notches below smutty werewolf books.

“Thanks for noticing. I totally am. I’m charming. Brilliant. Driven.”

“Humble, too,” Wyatt added with a grin.

“Extremely.”

“Any scarred cowboy would be lucky to have you.” He offered me a piece of his toast while he took a bite of another.

I reluctantly took it. Somehow, I wasn’t full anymore. It had been like two minutes. “You’d make a decent mail-order groom, too. Is that a thing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“We can make it a thing.” I held up my food, and bumped the crust of my bread against his. “We can eventoastto it.”

He choked on the bread. Tears of laughter—and maybe fear that he’d choke to death—streamed down his face as I smacked his back as if that would actually help him get the food down the right pipe.

It didn’t.

I did it anyway.

When he’d recovered, he cleared his throat with a swallow of milk. I watched his throat bob, and maybe got slightly warm as I did. It was a nice throat.