“Quesadillas and wine? Why not?”
“There’s never a bad time for vino. I catch some ribbing from the guys for liking it so much, but there’s something about it I enjoy. It communicates a love of the finer things, creates a certain mood.”
“And what mood is it you’re trying to create now?”
She was teasing, and he liked that. Her fine black brows were arched over big brown doe eyes, her plump mouth curved upward. Just when he wondered how to read her, thinking she was so reserved, her passionate, fun side peeked out from behind the cool veneer.
“I want us to enjoy each other’s company,” he said, returning her gaze, making it clear that he was interested if she was game.
The spark in those whiskey depths, the flare of heat, made him want to shout. No celebrating, though. Not yet. He didn’t want to give her the impression that this was some attempt at a casual hookup where they’d go their separate ways in the morning. No, his days of cruising Las Vegas with his single Pack brothers, letting his dick lead him to a cheap lay, were over. He couldn’t say he was real sorry.
“Somehow I think we’re going to get along with each other just fine.”
Yes! His cock stiffened in his jeans, and he was glad his T-shirt was loose enough to cover the problem. He wanted to do this right, for everything to be perfect. From his black wine rack in the wet bar area, he selected a bottle of his best red and removed two glasses from the glass shelf.
“Do you bring your lady guests here often?”
He liked that she was blatantly fishing. That her teasing held an edge, as though his answer was very important. “I’ve never brought a woman here before.”
She appeared pleased by that. Maybe she didn’t know relief was written all over her face. “Because of the secrets about what you are and what you do?”
“That’s part of it, but not all,” he acknowledged. “Even if we could bring our hookups into the compound—which would never happen—I wouldn’t feel right about bringing someone into my personal space who wasn’t special.”
Her lips parted and her eyes widened slightly. Had he said too much? He didn’t think so, not if he wanted her prepared to hear the whole truth. He didn’t elaborate further, nor did she seem to want to press. They both needed time to absorb being together, enjoying each other’s company.
Taking the plate of chicken outside, he got the grill started while she sipped her wine and watched. While the grill heated, they made small talk.
“This is a nice setup. Each of your quarters is like a condo with its own private patio and a small yard.”
“It’s nice, but not too fancy, and I like that. It’s home.”
“I like it, but it’s hard to imagine living among all of these people. You’ve almost got your own town right inside these walls.”
Anxiety made his wolf restless. Would she reject living with him? What if she wanted to return to Missouri when she was finished with her studies? What the hell would he do then?”
He would move with her if she was determined to go. That was a given. But what if she didn’t want him? God, he was borrowing trouble before it even began.
“It took some getting used to, but once I did, I fell in love with it here. Not just the compound, but the Shoshone. You won’t find a more beautiful national forest anywhere in the United States, and my wolf loves to run for miles and miles without stopping.”
“You’re going to show me your wolf,” she said. It wasn’t a question. He could tell she still needed visual confirmation of his claims. Like Rowan had when she met Aric, Daria required tangible proof. But she was tougher than Rowan had been, even after meeting Blue.
“I’ll show you after we eat, if that works for you.” He wanted to at least savor a nice dinner before she rejected him and ran home to her father.
“All right.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I can’t wait to see.”
She was trying, he’d give her that. “My wolf is anxious to meet his—to meet you.”
Taking a sip, she studied him over the rim of her wineglass, and he sweated that she’d caught his near-slipup. If she had, and he thought she must’ve, she didn’t say anything.
He laid the meat on the grill and tended it as they talked and refilled their glasses. He learned that she held degrees in fish, wildlife, and conservation biology from Colorado State.
“I’m part wolf and I’m not sure I even know what that means,” he joked.
She laughed. “That’s irony, I suppose. What it means is I studied topics like ecology, forestry, fish and freshwater ecosystems, mammalogy. You know, easy stuff like that.”
“Sure.” He snorted.
“Then for my master’s, we delved into more specific areas such as conservation biology and genetics, ecotoxicology, wildlife population management, and so on.”
“I’m impressed,” he said. “I like a smart woman.”
Her bronzed cheeks flushed. “Thanks. But I’m just a regular person carrying on my father’s work.”
“What work is that, specifically?”
“He was a part of the government’s conservation effort in the eighties to save the wolf population in the Shoshone from extinction. The program was a success, and now I’m a member of a small group that keeps track of the wolves’ progress. We make sure they’re still thriving all over the forest.”
“You have a cool job. I’ll bet you’re good at it,” he praised.
“I love animals,” she said simply. “It’s easy to be good at a job you love and believe in.”
“True. I have one of those myself.”
“I just protect wolves.” She waved at hand at him. “You protect the rest of the world.”
He started to protest, but she was right. “That doesn’t make your contribution any less. What you do is so important,” he said earnestly. “If the ecosystems fail, there will be nothing left for guys like me to protect. People like you have to prevent that from happening.”
He’d struck exactly the right chord with her. But he wasn’t simply trying to get into her good graces. He meant every word. He valued her work, and wanted her to know that. She did, and her elation trickled to him through their bond like liquid sunlight.
“Thank you for that,” she said softly. “I can’t tell you how many people, even friends, don’t think that what my father and I do constitutes a real job.”
“Well, they’re assholes,” he growled. “They’re part of what’s wrong with the planet.”
Her expression became one of playful amusement. “So fierce. I think I like it when you get all rumbly like that.”
That surprised a laugh out of him, and he had to remind his poor cock yet again to behave. “Then I’ll make sure to do it often.”
They chatted until the chicken was ready; then he decided to set the table outside. The weather was great, so they might as well take advantage of it. He brought out plates, utensils, tortillas, shredded cheese, and all the rest of the goodies they needed for their meal. Placing foil on the grill, he laid down some tortillas, loaded them with chicken strips, onion, and cheese, then browned them on each side. In moments, they were ready to eat.
“Mmm, this is fantastic! You could make me fat, feeding me like this.”
“You’ve got a long way to go before that would ever happen. You’re perfect.”
“No, I’m not, but thank you. I love what I see, too.” She took another bite and swallowed. “I have a thing for blonds.”
“A thing?” His brows shot up.
“Yes, I know. How cliché, right? But I adore blond men.”
If he had any say, her days of adoring any man but him, blond or purple, were over. “I like silky black hair myself. Just like yours,” he murmured. “I’m partial to brown eyes and bronzed skin. A whole lot like yours.”