My chest grows surprisingly warm at the thought.
“Werewolves,” I mutter, covering up my pleased glow.
Then my eyes dart to the counter, where the rest of the apology pie sits. Unprotected. Vulnerable.
Shoving up from my seat, I hurriedly grab some foil out of the cabinet, cover the pie, and tuck it in my refrigerator. Then I turn to glare at a bemused Roderick.
“That slice is all you’re getting.” I point at the piece in front of him, regretting how large of a section I offered. “The rest is mine. Got it?”
He nods, attempting and failing to look contrite.
Settling back at the table, I pull my plate as close as I can without the treat tumbling to the ground and rest my arm around it, creating a protective barrier with my body.
“All right. I’m thoroughly wooed by your dessert offering. Let the apologizing officially commence.”
Roderick nods and straightens in his chair. The guy looks tall, even sitting down.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For the way I treated you the first day we met and every day after.” He clears his throat but makes sure to meet my eyes. “You gave me no reason to be rude.”
The sincerity is undeniable in his voice, and I find I believe he means what he says. The pie is probably helping to smooth the way. I’m already down to my last bite.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“You fit in well here. Everyone in Pine Falls likes you.”
Apparently, Roderick wasn’t done.
My final swallow of pie is harder to get down as emotion clogs my throat. Rising from my seat, I grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water, using the drink to help dislodge the pie.
“My sister, Tanya, thinks you’re great,” he adds. “You might get her to go to the library.”
Fucking hell, now I’m blushing.
“And you might not believe me, but your pie was delicious.”
Mypie was delicious? How can he say that after what I just ate?
An image of Roderick arises in my mind. He’s in a kitchen, rolling out dough, cutting the pastry, coating his hands in flour, braiding a lattice.
My gut gets all tight, and the space between my legs starts to tingle at the mental image.
Oh gods, am I seriously lusting afteranotherwerewolf?
Even when Roderick was grumpy and distrusting, I still had to admit—silently, to myself—that he was a good-looking guy. But it’s easy enough to ignore a stunning face and body when the brain behind it is annoying and judgmental.
But now he’s being nice. No, worse than that.
He’s beingkind.
And kindness is way too attractive on Roderick Jameson.
“Thad appreciates your friendship. Your sign language is very good?—”
“Stop it!” The words are too loud for my tiny kitchen, and I watch his eyebrows rise in response to my shout.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I carefully place my glass in the sink, using the task to avoid Roderick’s stare while I try to get my horny thoughts under control. “Just … can we go back to being mean to each other?”
