“She’s here?” Zoey asks, craning her head to seek out her friend.
But the crowd shifts, and Juliet disappears. I stand, hoping a higher vantage point will help me locate the little librarian. To make sure I didn’t simply imagine her into existence.
But there she is, by the bar with Thad, handing Moose some cash, even as she stares around the space with wide eyes.
Without warning, a wide smile breaks across her face, and the sight is a punch to the gut. She’s so beautiful. Is she grinning for me?
But, no, a second later, Courtney is at her side, slinging her arms around Juliet’s and Thad’s shoulders. An accomplishment, seeing as how the man is significantly taller than Juliet. The moment the pair grab their glasses, Courtney drags them away from the bar.
Toward us.
“Are you okay?” Warner’s question breaks through my focus, and I glance down to spy a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Fine,” I grumble, slowly sinking back into my seat and considering what course of action I’m going to take if Courtney is not actually bringing Juliet to our table. Whatever I would have landed on doesn’t matter because there she is, standing in front of me in her tight jeans and off-the-shoulder sweater that threatens to scramble my brain.
Pretty mate. Sniff neck.
I wish.
“I told you,” Courtney crows, shoving a finger at me. “Isn’t this the most glorious thing you’ve ever seen?”
I guess that’s one way to wingwoman me, but I’m not sure I appreciate being called athing.
Thad chuckles, and Juliet blinks, her mouth parting on a surprised inhale.
“Are you crocheting?” she asks, and I struggle not to shiver at the sound of her voice.
Then I process her question, and my attention drops to the craft I’m still clutching. The neatly formed granny square Zoey instructed me how to make.
“I am.”
“Why?”
It’s just then that Warner’s words play back to me.
“How are you good at this too?”
And I realize I failed my mission.
“I thought I’d be bad.”
Her brow crinkles. “What?”
“I thought I’d try and be bad, and”—I wave at the wolves gathered in the bar—“the pack would see.”
Shock smooths out her lovely face, and she purses her lips in a way that makes them look even more kissable, if that’s possible.
“He’s really good though,” Zoey interjects, not understanding my goal in this endeavor. But I appreciate her support nonetheless.
Juliet stares at me for a long time.
Then she snorts.
Then chuckles.
Then full-on laughs, and the joyful sound is the sweetest music this bar has ever heard. Multiple heads turn to examine the human woman with interest, but one glare from me, and they turn away again.
“This is about the dancing, isn’t it?” Juliet asks, still giggling. “It’s about me.” Her voice softens on the last word.
