“Like that would ever happen,” he said, picking up a knife that someone had placed on the table, probably to cut the scones in half, even though I had to wonder what self-respecting werewolf would eat only half a scone. He flipped the utensil, blade up, blade down. Over and over.
“So, does this mean we get breakfast delivered every morning? Because if that’s the case, I’d like to put in some requests.”
He glanced at me from underneath his dark lashes and let out a little grunt. I was starting to think grunting was August Watt’s MO.
“Let me guess.” He raised a finger. “Carrot cake muffins, preferably frosted.” He flicked up another finger. “Chocolate-zucchini bread.” A third finger came up. “Warm sourdough with salted butter.” Another finger. “Cinnamon rolls with a hefty layer of icing.” And then his pinkie leaped up. “Bacon-the thickly cut kind-with scrambled eggs.”
I blinked at him, impressed by his memory. He’d just listed all of my favorite breakfast items. Not that I was the pickiest person, but I really did have a thing for cinnamon and fatty food. Discussing food brought me back to the meal I’d shared with Liam in his kitchen when he’d asked what I liked eating. August already knew all that about me. For some reason, this flustered me. I got up and hobbled to the kitchen to pour myself a mug of coffee.
With my back to him, I said, “Coffee. Just coffee. I don’t really eat any of that stuff anymore.” I wasn’t sure why I was lying to August. Maybe it was because I didn’t want him to think he had me all figured out. Even though he did.
I turned and leaned against the linoleum countertop. The edge bit into the sliver of skin on display between my crop top and my sleep shorts. Again, I thought about going to put on some more clothes, but I lived amongst wolves. They probably didn’t even notice bare skin anymore.
August frowned at me, and then he frowned down at the white ceramic mug clutched between my fingers. I blew on the steam, watched it disperse and melt into the air.
Feeling like a jerk, I said, “If you really do have time, I’d appreciate some help with studying for my exam.”
His gaze returned to my face. For a moment, I thought about confessing I’d lied, that he’d been right, that those were still all of my favorite things, but I couldn’t get the words out. It was disarming to have someone know me so intimately. I hadn’t eaten cinnamon rolls or carrot cake muffins in months, yet the mere mention of them made me salivate. It also brought back a whole slew of memories that included a table full of people-most of whom weren’t part of this world anymore.
My mom had made the best cinnamon rolls.
And my father’s usual Sunday activity-besides waltzing his wife around the house to a Roberta Flack song-was grating several pounds of carrots for her baking.
“Sure,” August finally said. “Do you have the booklet?”
“No.” I blew on my coffee again. No steam rose this time. “Can you pull up the questions on your phone?”
He nodded. As he quizzed me, his tone was so stiff that I knew I’d wounded him, yet I couldn’t confess my deception. I might’ve been loyal to a fault, but I was one hell of a stubborn liar.
I didn’t end up hiking. But I did pass my driver’s permit without making so much as a single mistake, and then I celebrated at the lakeside picnic with all of my favorite people-when Isobel had pulled up in front of the DMV, Evelyn was in the car.
I’d almost cried from how happy I was that Isobel had thought to invite Evelyn. Also, I was feeling pretty emotional from getting my permit on the first try. Now I only needed fifty hours of driving experience and a vision exam, and I’d be all set to cruise around Boulder-or around the country-on my own. I was drunk on the freedom that loomed at my fingertips.
Buoyed by the thoughts of all the places I would go, I walked to the lake’s edge, slid off my sandals, and waded into the crisp water that felt delicious against my blistered feet. I picked up a stone and skipped it on the glassy surface just as Isobel’s contagious laughter rang through the warm summer air.
This was a perfect day.
One of the most perfect days I’d had in a long time.
“Not bad.” August stared at the ripples on the water as my rock sank to the bottom.
“You think you can do better, Watt?”
He answered me with a confident smile, the first one he’d given me since I’d shot him down earlier. With that smile, all was right in the world again.
His flat pebble leaped over the surface four times before plunging to its watery grave. “That was just a warm-up shot.”
I snickered. “Uh-huh.”
His freckles seemed to burn a little darker. He crouched and spent almost an entire minute scouring the rocky beach for just the right stone. I remembered making fun of him once for devoting half an afternoon searching a meadow for the most faultless red poppies to give Isobel one Mother’s Day. I’d ripped up the first stalks I could find and squashed them into a bouquet, which wilted on the way to my house. Mom had still complimented their beauty and displayed them in a vase on her dresser.
Slowly, August unfurled his long body, the smallest and slimmest rock nestled in his palm, and walked over to the water’s edge, crouched, all of the muscles in his body purling as he frisbeed the rock in one perfect sweep.
He pumped his fist in the air. “Take that, Dimples. Nine!”
I flung my gaze toward the water, which still undulated. I’d missed his exploit. For all I knew, the pebble had skipped twice before sinking, but I couldn’t admit that, because then he’d know I’d been ogling him instead of the rock, and he’d wonder why.
I wondered why.
Perhaps it was the violently hot sun.
Or maybe it was the incessant cacophony of crickets.
“You win,” I conceded, wading in deeper. Water snaked up my bare thighs. I should’ve worn a bathing suit but hadn’t thought of it. My cut-offs and tank top would have to do. “I’m going for a swim.”
A dragonfly skimmed the water’s surface, its green pearlescent body adding to the lake’s pulsing shimmer. I swept my hand toward the insect, and it dashed off the same way bunnies ran from me when I was in my other form.
“Want to join me?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at August.
He rubbed his chin as though debating, but then he lowered his pants and yanked off his tee. I turned my prying gaze away and submerged myself completely, staying under until I felt my blood cool down. When I popped back out, August was lying on his back next to me, floating like driftwood.
He looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Smiling deviously, I pressed both my palms into his abdomen and drove him downward. And then I laughed so hard that when he emerged and shoved me under, I snorted in an ungodly amount of lake water.
I propelled myself away from him like a squid. “Not fair,” I said, laugh-snorting.
He grinned. When I saw him cut through the water toward me, probably to dunk me under again, I raced to the middle of the lake. Only then did I stop to take a breath. From the shore, I caught Evelyn shading her eyes. I waved to her to reassure her that I was okay just before I got dunked again.
When I broke free, I tossed my hair back. “Oh. You’re going to regret that!”
August shot me a challenging grin. “Am I? What are you going to do, Dimples? Stick itching powder in my bed again?”
Ha! I’d forgotten about that. “Not a bad idea… acked my brain for something worse, though. When it finally came to me, I swam up to him and started tickling his sides. August was the most ticklish person in the history of ticklish people.
He roared with laughter until he managed to cuff my wrists. Then he tried to take revenge, but I wasn’t ticklish. I’d never been. He must’ve remembered that fact at some point because he stopped prodding my ribcage and simply rested his palm against my waist. I wasn’t cold, but my skin pebbled and my heart… it skipped a beat.
Possibly two.
Before he could detect my weirdness, I kicked away from him. “Nice try, big guy,” I said, hoping my voice sounded normal. “Race you to the shore?”
His green eyes honed into the shore with the same intensity they’d honed into me a moment ago. August had never been competitive-not ever-and yet the way he looked at that shore made me wonder if he’d changed. Maybe, in the past, when we’d played backgammon or scaled a tree, he’d let me win, because I was so much younger.
“You’re going to need a head start,” he finally said.
“I’m all grown up now. I don’t need any more head starts.”