“It’s perfect, puppy,” he whispers. “Thank you.”
Now it’s my turn to get shy and tongue-tied. “Yeah. Sure. I mean, uh, you’re welcome.” The nickname hasn’t always beenmy favorite but hearing it said all soft like that? I’m changing my mind.
His grin turns charming and he raises an eyebrow. “Now that I have this fancy watch, we should probably test it out. Wanna go on a date? I’ll even be on time.”
“Oh, that might be a problem,” I say. “It doesn’t do the same thing it did last time.” The last watch became heavier when he was close to being late.
“But it doessomething?” he questions.
“Yeah.” If I performed the magic right, it does. It was a little hard for me to test.
Bane examines the watch again, running his fingers over the steel band and seeing if he can detect anything. “Does it grow legs and forcibly carry me to my destination if I’m over an hour late?”
“No, not even close. How about you figure out the trick for yourself?”
He nods, before he realizes something and his mouth drops open in horror. “Oh god, I’m going to be late for our first date.”
The watch isn’t charmed to help him with punctuality, so it’s a definite possibility.
“We could call this our first date,” I suggest.
“Iwaslate.”
“Not by that much?” I shake my head. “Hold on. You don’thave tobe late.”
“See, that sounds right but then somehow before I know it, I’malreadytwenty minutes late.”
“What if we go out for breakfast tomorrow?” I offer. “Spend the night and we’ll get up and go whenever we wake up. You can’t be late if we don’t set a time.”
He grins, the tension draining away. “Sounds perfect.”
That’s the second time he’s said that word in a few minutes. Perfect.
With a courtship like ours that derailed so spectacularly, perfect should be entirely too ambitious. Yet I completely agree with him. Now that nothing stands between my true mate and me, perfect almost feels like we’re aiming too low.
18.Dating Comes Before Mating
Josh
Being with Bane Blackwood the second time around is an experience.
“Save me, Josh!”
A four-year-old girl jumps on my back. One of the younger pack members, she turns to me for assistance during a fierce game of tag. I sprint away from the kid who is ‘it’ and race to the other side of the lawn with my passenger.
Playing a rambunctious game of tag with the pack kids is always fun and good exercise, whether in wolf form or human form. The sun is bright overhead, and I love these playful moments with the young wolves.
I dodge and weave as the kids chase me across the sprawling lawn. Suddenly, the roar of an engine cuts through all the shouting and laughing. A sleek red sports car pulls up and parks nearby.
Bane emerges from the car, a damn dream in that fitted black shirt and dark jeans, his brown bomber jacket casually thrown over one shoulder. He looks… amazing. And I’m a sweaty mess with a toddler clinging to my shoulders.
“You’re it, Josh!”
So busy watching Bane, it’s easy for a boy barely as tall as my waist to run over and tag me.
“Uh, I might have to take a break.”
“No fair! I got you.” The little boy follows my gaze. “Whoa, do you know him?”
