He rubbed a spot of condensation from the label on his beer, morosely mulling over his lack of options. He’d sorted through his situation a million times, looking for a way out, an answer to his problems. How many more times would it take before it’d sink in that he was fucked? He rested his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, the frustration crushing his chest. There was no wolf in existence who’d be willing to risk Anna and Foster’s wrath. Hell, he could offer the potential mate a million dollars and it wouldn’t be enough. Besides, the only female who desperately needed something from him was Anna and—
His eyes snapped open. “Lilly.” He dropped the beer, and it clunked onto the floor. Ignoring the puddle of alcohol no doubt seeping into the braided rug, he shot to his feet. “Holy shit.”
He’d been coming at this all wrong. The answer to his prayer wasn’t a wolf.
It was a cat.
Chapter Five
Lilly grimaced at the package of Brussels sprouts turning her foot into a block of ice. With a slight wiggle of her leg, she dislodged the bag of frozen veggies onto the floor. A loud grumble issued from her belly, inconveniently reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since last night. She’d been so gung-ho to kill herself on a pair of skis, she’d forgotten to grab one of the breakfast bars she’d picked up from the grocery store yesterday.
She gave the bag of Brussels sprouts a considering glance before sighing. “Yeah, I’m not that hungry.” Her stomach rumbled again in audible argument. Her focus veered to the kitchen entrance. It wasn’t too much of a walk, even if she had to manage it on her bum ankle. Gripping the arms of the chair, she gingerly scooched closer to the ottoman and swung her foot to the ground. As she hobbled onto her good leg, she could almost hear Dante growling in her ear for not staying parked in the chair. It wasn’t like she had any other choice though. The stinking refrigerator wasn’t going to come waltzing out here, for crying out loud.
Squaring her shoulders, she took a cautious step forward, trying to keep as much weight off her injured ankle as possible in the process. Only the tiniest twinge of discomfort shuttled through her. Speeding up her pace a bit, she wobbled across the room and made it into the kitchen without any undue pain or falling flat on her face.
Feeling ridiculously victorious over her amazing feat, she stumbled to the counter and grabbed one of the multigrain bagels before shuffling to the fridge and snatching the cream cheese and smoked salmon. Less than a minute later, bagel sandwich in hand and taste buds salivating in anticipation, she limped back into the living room. She lifted the bagel and prepared to take a quick bite just as a loud bang sounded from outside. A second later the door opened and Dante stepped inside. His unexpected appearance startled her so much, she dropped her bagel. Ignoring the globs of cream cheese and slivers of salmon now decorating her bare toes, she gaped at Dante. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“I did.” His eyebrows slashed low. “You’re supposed to be icing that ankle.”
“I was hungry.” She plunked her hands on her hips. “Why am I explaining myself to you? And why are you here?”
Rather than answer, Dante stalked to her side and without saying a word, upended her into his arms and carried her back to the chair. Giving him an indignant look, she struggled to lift her butt from the cushion, only to be thwarted when Dante plopped the bag of Brussels sprouts back in place on her ankle. His eyes flashing a warning, he straightened. “Unless you have to pee, you’re staying put.”
“What if I do?” She huffed a peevish breath when he gave her a questioning look. “Okay, I don’t. But that mess on the floor isn’t going to clean itself up.” Figuring she’d outsmarted him on that one, she reached for the Brussels sprouts.
“I’ll take care of it.”
She blinked at him as he pivoted and made tracks for the kitchen. This was all very…weird. With the way Dante stormed out on her earlier, she’d figured she wouldn’t see him anytime soon. Or at least not until she tracked him down so she could plead her case about the land deal for the gazillionth time. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him to barge in on her and start bossing her around again. And while she appreciated his efforts at giving her a hand, she couldn’t help being suspicious at his possible motives.
Had he returned thinking he could sweet talk her into jumping into the sack with him despite her resolve not to? If so, he had a rude awakening coming his way. She could see right through his surly attempt at being neighborly and considerate. Her panties were staying firmly in place, damn it.
The wolf in question sauntered back into the room carrying the wastebasket from beneath the kitchen sink and a wad of paper towels. He placed both items on the floor next to the spilled remains of her snack before shrugging from his jacket. His muscular shoulders shifted enticingly under his flannel shirt, and a hot, prickly wave of heat shimmered through her. She bit back a whimper and wiggled uncomfortably in her seat. “Look, I appreciate you helping out and all, but in the twenty minutes since we last discussed it, I haven’t changed my mind about us having sex.”
He dropped his jacket on the couch and swept her with a penetrating look that she swore possessed the power to burn through her clothes. “I have a proposition for you.”
“If it has anything to do with whipped cream and handcuffs, I’m not interested.” Hoo boy. Was that ever a fat, hairy lie.
Dante’s eyes darkened as he licked his lips. “Not what I originally had in mind, but now that you mention it…”
She stacked her arms over her chest—as much out of frustration as to hide the perky saluting of her traitorous nipples. “Could you please keep your dirty mind on track?”
“You’re the one who brought up the whipped cream and handcuffs, kitten.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What did you just call me?”
He chuckled. “Don’t get your fur in a tizzy. I could have said pussy.”
“You would,” she grumbled.
His grin—a sight practically rarer than Bigfoot when it came to being directed at her—stoked another of those horribly delicious flutters deep in her core. Damn it, she really wished he’d amp up his usual obnoxiousness so her libido could get a much-needed break. Attempting to be as covert as possible, she pressed her thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache. Little good it did. “Can you get to the point of whatever it is you want? It’s not like I’ve got all night, you know.”
Dante offered her a droll look. “Yeah. Sitting in that chair is damn time consuming.”
Shit. The much-hoped-for irritation wasn’t nearly strong enough to combat her escalating horniness.
“I’ve thought about what you said about that land rightfully belonging to you.”
His statement was so not what she’d been expecting, it took her a moment to find her tongue. “And…?” she asked, almost too afraid to hope for the impossible. Her heartbeat quickened, pounding in her ears.
“You might be right. I’ve decided to let you have the acreage.”
The pent-up breath escaped her in a rush. Joy. Happiness. Triumph. All three were an intoxicating melody. Completely forgetting about her injury, she scrambled to jump to her feet. Worry and consternation darkening his rugged features, Dante gently pushed her back in place and settled onto the end of the ottoman, presumably to block her from moving again.