That earns me a lopsided smile that makes my stomach clench.
I almost take another drink when I remember it tastes like a moldy sponge. I set the mug down with exaggerated care. “Look, I’d like to repay you. For the whole saving-my-life bit and for letting me crash here while Mother Nature throws a tantrum outside.”
His swallow is audible. “I know you were naked earlier, but you don’t need to do anything?—”
“Ew, no. No, no, no.”
West stiffens. “Ew?”
“I’m not paying for your common decency with sex.”
“Oh.” He blinks, flustered. “I mean, notohthat’s too bad. Justoh…kay.”
He rubs the back of his neck and looks around the cabin like he’d rather be anywhere else. It’s so endearingly awkward it actually makes my heart skip. He’s such a squish—all gruff exterior and absolute mush inside. Honestly, it wouldn’t take much for me to want to repay him with sexual favors.
He opens his mouth, words tripping over themselves. “I didn’t mean—I just thought?—”
“Stop.” I lift a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not think of it as repayment. Think of it as me fixing my wounded pride.Imight not have died on your porch, but it did, in fact, take a pretty serious hit. I’m resurrecting it with sugar.”
I stride to the set of small cabinets next to the stove like I own the place and fling the top one open. I root around until I find a mixing bowl that’s probably seen more winters than I have. Flour puffs into the air as I drag out a paper sack and drop it onto the counter. Then sugar, vanilla, baking powder, and salt. One by one, I pile them up until the small stretch of countertop is buried under ingredients.
I rummage through his fridge, clanking jars and muttering to myself until I emerge victorious with butter in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other. My elbow clips the sugar bag, and it spills across the counter in a white, glittering wave as I set the eggs down.
“You’re making?—”
“Cookies!” I cheer, brandishing the whisk like a torch.
“A mess. This is my home, not a bakery.”
“Wrong.” I shove the sugar toward him and start scooping flour into the battered bowl. “It is now a bakery. It’s called…” I hesitate. “Fox & Axe.” I waggle the whisk. “Okay, maybe the name needs work. But my cookies do not.”
He lets out a quiet sound that might be a laugh. “I’m not much of a sweets person.”
My jaw actually drops. I stare at him like he’s suggested I change my own tires. Then I plant my hands on my hips and grin.
“Prepare yourself, old man. I’m about to change your life.”
CHAPTER 4
WEST
I can’t rememberthe last time someone filled this cabin with so much sound. It’s disorienting. Drawers open and utensils clatter as Emme hums some song off-key.
I hate it.
Liar.
My wolf’s been pacing under my skin since the moment she dropped that blanket this morning. Who am I kidding? Since last night when she punched me in the face. It’s the first time he’s wanted out in years, and I don’t know whether to be grateful or terrified. So, I keep to the corner of the kitchen, pretending to read the back of the coffee tin or look outside like I’m a fucking meteorologist.
Emme bends to pull the first tray of cookies from the oven, and the sight of her round ass in those jeans hits me like a sucker punch.
Juicy.Bite it.
I clench my jaw.We are not biting anyone.
She’d taste like sugar.
“Christ,” I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand down my face.
