Romance.
“No,” I say to both correct her and to chastise my wolf. “Why are you apologizing?”
Juliet shoves her hands in her deep pockets and stares at a spot over my head. “You’re a grumbly asshole?—”
“That’s how you apologize?”
“Shut up and let me finish!”
Why does that make me want to chuckle?
I think it’s how she snarls. Like a tiny kitten facing off against me, swiping little claws that can’t even draw blood.
I firm my jaw against a smirk and wave for her to continue. Juliet glares at the gesture, but then wipes the hostile emotion from her face before speaking again.
“You are a grumbly asshole, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you asked about werewolf knowledge. I understand that you’re just trying to keep your people safe.” She draws in a deep inhale, more of the tension easing from her shoulders as she exhales slowly. “I also want to thank you for installingmy security system. I know that’s not your normal job, so I appreciate the extra effort you put in.”
As I consider how to respond, Juliet adds in one more comment.
“Plus, Courtney told me you’re dealing with some family drama. And I’m sorry for that too.” Her gaze travels around my stark office, as if uncomfortable with meeting my eyes. “Yeah, so … that’s it. I’m sorry, and I’m grateful. And I hope you like the pie. I don’t bake too often, but I think it turned out well.”
Without considering the consequences of my actions, I lift the pie from its box and tilt the pastry so I can examine the bottom through the glass plate.
“Excuse me.” Juliet’s voice turns overly sweet, which lets me know I’ve fucked up. “May I ask what you’re doing?”
Damn. Wrong move.
“Checking the crust.” No point in lying.
“Checking it for what?”
“If it’s cooked or soggy.”
She said she didn’t bake much, so I was simply curious.
Her mouth drops open, bobbing a couple of times before snapping shut. “Are you kidding me?”
Juliet steps up to my desk, grabs the pencil I’ve been using to take notes, holds the writing utensil in front of my nose, then snaps it in two.
The gesture is an odd combination of threatening and adorable.
Our mate is fierce.
But she’s not done.
“I just handed you a free pie, and you’re going Paul Hollywood on me?” An angry flush has her cheeks turning the same deep red shade as her hair. “This isn’t some baking competition, you ass!”
“I’ll still eat it,” I assure her.
Even if it tastes like sour milk, I’ll choke it down. I just like to know what I’m getting into.
“Oh no.” Juliet feigns concern. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’d hate for you to have to suffer through mysoggycrust.”
A smart man would keep quiet. But I realize this back-and-forth is the first time I’ve had the urge to smile in a week. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I keep pushing.
“You wanted me to lie?” I should have. Gifts of food are never to be judged. I knew it was a mistake as I did it. I just can’t help riling her up.
“Of course I did! When someone brings you pastries, you’re supposed to say,Yummy. Delicious!And leave it at that!”
