But I refuse to let my love life be her prey.
“No.”
“Hmm. Interesting. I could’ve sworn a certain librarian caught your eye.” Her words have me tensing. “Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I’m thinking of when Juliet came over to my place and she was asking about …”
As Courtney trails off, I physically lean toward her, suddenlymuchmore interested in this conversation. But she doesn’t finish her sentence, just takes a long sip of her drink and peers around the bar, waving at Warner and Zoey.
“Asking about what?” I prompt.
“Hmm. What was that?” The wolf swings her long legs on the stool, her glittering boots brighter than a traffic light.
Gritting my teeth, I do my best to keep my voice steady. “Juliet was at your place, asking about what?”
“Oh, you know, a lot of things. My chickens, recipes, crafting, you, fun things in town, my donkey?—”
“Me? She asked about me?”
“I know, right?” She bumps her shoulder into mine. “A woman actually found you slightly interesting. Try not to die from excitement.”
Before I can push for more information, someone turns on the jukebox. Courtney gasps in pure joy, likely because Moose banned her from using the jukebox for life. Most nights, she’s bribing other pack members to turn the music on.
“I love this song!” Courtney launches off her stool before I can grab her and demand she play back every word Juliet said about me.
A lot of the pack members roll their eyes as the wildest wolf among us shimmies to the beat. But they also can’t help smiling at the sight of her. Courtney is … herself. I’ve heard the termmanic pixie dream girlapplied a time or two, and it’s not too far off. Especially because pixies are vicious when provoked. Half the town is in love with Courtney. The other half pretends to be annoyed by her when, really, they just want her light shining on them.
Again, I think how she would be a good co-pack leader if there was any way we could romantically stand each other. But she was right. I’d end up strangling her within a fortnight.
I’d rather have her as my supportive-in-her-odd-way friend.
The sight on the dance floor is cringe-worthy.
Courtney demands more people join her, but Zoey only laughs and waves at her friend while Warner hoots encouragement as his arm stays slung over the back of his woman’s chair. Used to be he was the one pining for a human. I study the two of them at their small table in the corner. Warnergives me a grin when our eyes meet. Zoey focuses on the yarn she’s always fiddling with—the crafting equipment she always has on hand.
My mind brings up an image of the corkboard in my office. The place where I normally pin to-do lists or bills that need to be paid. Now, in the corner, there’s also a homemade apology card that still smells like lemon pie.
I mean to turn back to my drink and morose thoughts but find myself studying the crafty woman my brother intends to mate.
She’s friends with Juliet.
I grab my glass, stalk over to their table, and take the unoccupied seat.
“What can you tell me about Juliet Adair?” I ask, my stare focused on Zoey.
Which means I don’t miss her eye roll.
“I’m not going to help you drive one of my few friends from this town,” she replies, deadpan.
“Hello to you too,” Warner grumbles as his thumb strokes Zoey’s shoulder in a loving caress. As if he can’t stand not to be touching her.
“I don’t want Juliet to leave.” No reason to be coy. “I want her to stay and date me.”
There, now all motivations are clear.
The pair of them go still simultaneously, as if they practiced the maneuver. They both gape at me, wearing matching expressions of astonishment. Warner’s melts first into guffaws of laughter.
Zoey shakes her head, then studies me. “Did you tell her that?”
I nod. “After she kissed me.” And did other things I don’t plan to share. “But she claimed I’m intimidating. That she can’t date me because she can’t be vulnerable around me.”
