Page 8 of My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

“And if I was?”

His lips curved. “So long as you’re not trying to take down Canada, it’s cool.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I promise nothing so nefarious. But I’d like to be cautious so the assholes who took me don’t know where I am.”

His expression darkened. “How badly did they hurt you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m more pissed about the situation than anything.”

“Were you sex trafficked?” He sounded hesitant asking.

The query rounded her mouth. “No, although I could see why’d you think that, given my state of deshabille.”

Once more, his low baritone laugh rang out, sending a shiver through her. “Who the fuck uses deshabille in conversation?”

“A girl whose mother bought her a calendar that featured a new word for each day of the year.”

“My calendar had half-naked girls because Gramps said those were the only acceptable calendars for a boy.”

“And your grandma was okay with it?”

“Grams was the one who bought it.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “I kind of want to meet her.”

“You sure you didn’t hit your head?” he quizzed.

The giggle was so unlike her, and yet this man… he kept surprising her. “My family’s a little strange too.” Understatement. Selene, also a wolf, raised rabbits. Loved them to death. Literally. She let a few loose each full moon for sport while selling others to restaurants. Athena’s brother, Ares, had a thing for cheese. Made it artisan-style from goat’s milk. Unlike Selene, though, his wolf didn’t eat the animals he raised. He preferred to go after the coyotes that harassed the family farm. Their mom seemed kind of normal in comparison, given she sold honey and country pies.

“Your coffee, milady.” Derek handed her a mug of steaming java and sat down to eat his cereal. She joined him and studied him over the rim of her mug.

“Go on, ask,” he mumbled around a mouthful of Honeycomb.

“Ask what?”

“Whatever question is brewing in your intense stare.”

“You’re being awfully nice considering you don’t know a thing about me.”

“You were a naked woman asking for help. Only an asshole would have walked away.”

“Aren’t you curious at all about me and my situation?”

He eyed her. “Would you tell me the truth if I asked?”

“I can’t.”

“Then no point in poking.”

“How old are you?” she queried.

“Thirty-three. You?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“I thought you were younger,” his reply as he spooned more cereal.

“You’re single?” She’d seen no sign of a woman in his place, nor smelled any. “Just wondering if I’m going to have someone screaming at me if they come over and find me here.”

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