Page 25 of Gone Hunting

“But you want me in your room?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Her claws are only a few inches out. This could be a good thing or a bad thing. She tilts her head. “Why shouldn’t I take the guestroom? Or the couch? Or even the barn?”

How can I explain that I need her surrounded by my things, my scent? That only then will my wolf and I will feel she’s safe. It’s the same reason I gave her the shirt I was wearing earlier, instead of the clean one, and the reason my parents hold each other as much as they do. Our scents assure anyone who approaches that the other is spoken for and protected. I’m not saying Celia is spoken for by me, but maybe I’m saying I want her to be.

“My room has a full bathroom.” I sigh. “And it looks like you really could use a shower.”

Cue her blush.

And mine.

So help me, I wish I could kick my own ass.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just figured you’ll be more comfortable there. I’ll just get my clothes out.”

I can’t get out of the kitchen fast enough. I race up the stairs and straight into my room. I pick up the dirty clothes on the floor and dump them in the second-floor laundry room. I hurry back and make my king-sized bed, turning the pillows this way and that until I’m sure I’m going insane.

With the exception of the stone brick wall where my headboard rests, my room is painted a slate blue. The floor has the same multi-colored wide wood planks in shades of gray, white, and brown as the rest of the house. Gray and rust-colored curtains hang over my large picture window, and a large gray comforter covers my bed. Aside from that, I have a desk, a dresser, and a nightstand.

I pick up the dark red pillows and switch them around again, placing them between the gray and blue ones.

“Do you need help?”

I grimace, wondering how long Celia has been watching me and praying it hasn’t been long.

“You seem to be struggling with the pillows,” she says, smiling. “Is this your first time making a bed?”

Great. She’s been there a while. My only saving grace is that her claws aren’t out,yet.

“It’s just, you know,” I mutter.

She crosses her arms and leans against the door frame. “No, I don’t know. Please, enlighten me.”

I toss the pillow I’m holding onto the bed and busy myself cranking the side window closed. It beats standing there like an imbecile waiting to make another dumb remark. “I just wanted things to be perfect, so you’ll be comfortable.”

“Oh,” she says, no longer smiling.

Celia walks in slowly, passing her fingertips along the shelf that holds a few of my trophies. She pauses in front of the trophy I received for tracking, and the one beside it for wrestling. “These are nice,” she says, smiling. “I’m very impressed by you.”

She’s impressed.

By me.

Yes!

I give my wolf a mental fist bump. “What about you? Do you play sports?”

Celia shakes her head. “No. I’m athletic, but I’m not really one to be a part of a team.”

“Why? Too busy being homecoming queen or something?”

My grin fades at her frown. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Ah, no. I just figured someone like you would’ve been crowned prom princess or something.”

“Someone like me?” she asks.

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