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I blow out a relieved breath as I shove up from my chair, muttering thanks to Harvey before making my way out of the IT hub. Only once I’m alone in the hallway outside do I dare check my phone, finally reading the message waiting for me on the screen.
Javi:To get you in the mood for tonight.
He’s sent a Spotify link, and when I click on it, the app launches and a song starts to play:That’s Amoreby Dean Martin.
It’s ridiculous and cheesy but I still find myself grinning as the music plays, my heart melting a little bit.
Javi has been texting me on and off all day since he mysteriously got ahold of my number and I agreed to meet with him. I’ve never been pursued like this, and though I know I should keepmy guard up, I’m finding it difficult to resist falling for his easy charm as I eagerly read each incoming message.
My friends date around, but I’ve never bothered much with boys. I just live vicariously through their stories because I’ve never really understood the hype. When you’ve known the guys around you for your entire life, it’s difficult to separate the boy from the man; to view them as more than just a friend. At least it is for me. And it’s not like any of the guys I know have put in the effort to get me to see them differently. I’m firmly planted in the friend zone.
At one point, I wondered if it was justme. I have a tendency to overthink things, and I’m far too analytical for my own good sometimes. When my friends started having sex, I viewed my own virginity as a pawn to get off the chessboard, thinking it’d unlock some aspect of my womanhood if I popped my cherry. Spoiler alert- it didn’t, and the whole thing was just a big disappointment that left me even less interested in attempting to date.
Javi’s different, though. I’m ridiculously attracted to him, to the point where it’s a little embarrassing how my body reacts every time I’m in his presence. I get a little giddy each time he sends a text, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting up with him all day. The emotions are so foreign that I don’t really know what to do with them, but I know I need to see this through, if only to sate my own curiosity.
I just hope I’m not getting in over my head.
I spend entirely too long primping for our meet-up at the cabin, and by the time I sneak away from the complex and make my way over to the old lodge, it’s already past dusk. Javi’s truck is parked in the drive of cabin twelve when I pull up, and from the strip of pale light shining through the crack between the curtains over the window inside the cabin, it looks like he just went ahead and let himself in. I suppose it makes sense since I showed him where the key is last night, but it still sets me a little bit on edge that he was comfortable enough to just help himself to it and go on in.
Turning the key in the ignition, I cut the engine of my Jetta and climb out, smoothing down the front of my pale blue sundress as I nudge the door closed behind me. Then, with a steadying breath, I start up the front walk, squinting at the light coming from the window as I make my way closer.
It somehow looks brighter than the dim candlelight from last night, and as soon as I push open the door and step inside, I realize why. Camping lanterns are perched atop the side tables on either end of the old plaid couch, illuminating the interior of the cabin and bathing it in soft glow. Slowly, I sweep my gaze around, and when my eyes catch on Javi standing near the kitchen table, my heart skips a beat.
I wonder if it’s the novelty of him being a mysterious stranger or if I’ll always find him so breathtakingly handsome. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a black button-up, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his veiny forearms on display. One of them is covered in ink, the other completely bare, and the juxtaposition between the two sides of him- pretty boy and bad boy- is a perfect representation of how difficult it is to pin this guy down. The more I get to know him, the harder it is to discern whether he’s friend or foe.
The fabric of the dress shirt is taut against his broad chest, straining against his muscled shoulders and betraying the bulk of his form beneath. I’ve seen every inch of his chiseled physique in all its naked glory, but concealing it under his clothes adds a mouthwatering layer of mystique, akin to something beautiful being giftwrapped with care. My gaze slowly traverses up his body before landing on his face, my breath catching when our eyes lock.
Those eyes get me every time. They’re so dark they’re almost black, and staring into them is like gazing at an endless abyss. There’s a thin layer of stubble along his square jaw, adding to his ruggedly handsome appeal, and thatsmile- ugh, it’s so gorgeous that it’sunreal.
I feel that sharp tug in my chest; an aching urge drawing me closer. My feet start to move on their own accord, closing the distance between us with each stride, and I stutter a step when my gaze drops, shocked to see what’s spread out atop the kitchen table.
Because it’s not just the old three-wick candle, lit and burning in the center.
He brought dinner.
“You said it didn’t qualify as a date unless we had dinner or a movie, right?” Javi asks smoothly, that disarming grin locked firmly in place as he pulls out a chair and gestures to the seat. “So, I hope you like Italian.”
9
I’m just setting the last of the takeout containers on the table when I hear Lo’s car pull up outside the cabin. My pulse immediately picks up speed in anticipation of seeing her, a spark of nervous energy zapping through me as I hear her car door slam followed by the crunch of gravel as she traverses up the front walk. Then she opens the door to step inside, and for a second, I forget to breathe.
Words aren’t enough to describe the sheer beauty of Lo Anderson. Everything about her appearance calls to me- from the sunkissed glow of her smooth skin to the faint freckles dotted across the gentle curve of her nose. The front of her fair hair is pulled back in a thin braid, framing her doll-like face. The rest of the silken strands cascade down in gentle waves over her slender shoulders, the ends brushing her ribcage, looking so damn soft that my fingers twitch at my sides with the urge to touch it.
In stark contrast to my own lumbering bulk, everything about Lo is delicate and angelic. Looks can be deceiving, though, and from the few encounters I’ve had with her thus far, I already know she’s whip-smart, strong-minded, and anything but fragile. She’s the kind of girl who will challenge me at every turn, but that’s not a turn-off. If anything, it only makes me like her more. Though it remains to be seen whether I can actually win her over.
Lo glances around the interior of the cabin as she walks in, and when her eyes meet mine, I hear her suck in a shallow breath, her body going rigid.
I’ll never get over the way she reacts to me. Her attraction is obvious, from the way her lips part to the slight dilation of her pupils when our gazes lock. Those subtle tells are all I need to see as confirmation that she’s every bit as drawn to me as I am to her, and they make my inner wolf sit up and preen every fucking time- because when I’m around her, he’s never far from the surface.
Mate.
The word roars through my brain over and over like a chant, as if he’s trying to tell me something that I don’t already know. The mating frenzy has him in a chokehold, and while I’ve never been concerned about my degree of control over my inner animal before, it’s different with Lo. My wolf’s practically going feral with the primal urge to claim her.
It takes a great deal of effort to shove him back into the recesses of my consciousness and silence that snarling voice in my head, but I somehow manage it, my lips pulling into an easy grin once he’s tucked away.
“You said it didn’t qualify as a date unless we had dinner or a movie, right?” I ask, pulling a chair back from the table and signaling for her to take a seat. “So, I hope you like Italian.”
She looks down at the spread laid out on the table incredulously, then back up at me, her blue eyes rounded in surprise. “You brought dinner?”
