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I’d rather make my own bowl.
But I’m not driving away the only pack that meets my criteria over their failure to choose the chocolate-covered honeycomb.
“Thank you.” I pick up a teeny spoon and dig in.
It’s gooooood ice cream—the expensive kind that’s cream and sugar and none of the chemicals.
My eyes roll back, and another one of my unstoppable moans slips free.
The guys’ chairs squeak.
“Wow.” Kipp leans elbows on the table, half ready to vault the centerpiece. “Not to be the crude one, but I am the crude one. Your perfume—”
“Don’t be rude.” Jason elbows his packmate.
Cale clears his throat. “How’ve you been feeling, Lilah?”
“Fine. Just rushed. I’ll be happy when I can move out on my own.”
“No packs have caught your attention?” Rhett flicks his gaze to Hunter.
“Still looking.”
“That being the case…” Cale starts.
“We’re serious about putting in an offer for your heat,” Rhett says. “If you’re interested, we’d like to book a private date and get to know each other a bit better.”
Wow. He’s totally making a sex arrangement sound like an appointment to do my taxes.
“We have a permanent box at the opera,” Jason offers. “We’d love to take you.”
Oh no.
They’re opera people.
I mean, I’m not a total lowbrow scrub—I’d take ballet tickets any day—but opera?
I don’t do music unless it has a bass line.
Especially vocals that give me flashbacks of the OCC’s voice coach smirking while she made me sing solo after tone deaf solo for the enjoyment of the class.
Luckily, I have a more solid built-in reason than helllll no. “Thanks, but I shouldn’t leave campus.”
“Are you still being targeted?” Cale frowns.
“It’ll stop after my heat.” I’m positive Dominik will back off when he sees me choose anyone but Wyvern Pack. If I’m not involved with them, I can’t be used to hurt them, so I’m not worth the cash and prizes.
“Dinner, then?” Jason suggests. “I think we can rent the kitchen here. I’d love to cook for you. How do you feel about lamb?”
Like it belongs in a pasture?
But who knows? “I’ve never tried it.”
“Ah. I’ll be your first.” Jason brightens.
If this were any other pack, I’d take that the creepy, suggestive way, but Jason doesn’t ping my sixth sense.
I think he’s just a pure, innocent muffin man, which is weird. He’s a decade older, but I’m the one who’s been run through the sausage grinder.
