Page 25 of A Little Tempting

Class is fine, and so is the work the next day. But this morning? This morning, I’m dragging. Probably because I saw a handful of girls walk out of the guys’ side of the house as I was leaving, and I couldn't help but wonder if one of them slept with my wolf.

My wolf.

He isn’t mine.

I don’t even know whoheis.

Besides, the wolf probably doesn’t even live next door to me. Statistically speaking, there’s a huge possibility my masked kisser isn’t Reeves or Everett. He could be anyone. Sure, whoever he was, he knew my name. But it isn’t hard to learn a person’s name, especially when my entire family is LAU alumni, and my brothers were hockey royalty long before I ever came here. It could even be the stranger I word vomited on. I blanch at the possibility, then shake it off. No. After our awkward encounter, he would’ve run in the opposite direction if he had seen me during the game.

Wouldn’t he?

“Miss?” the barista in front of me says.

“Oh. Right. Uh…” I look up at the Bean Scene’s menu, shaking my head. “Pumpkin spice latte, please.” As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, a deep warmth unfurls in my stomach. It hits out of nowhere, and I glance over my shoulder, nearly swallowing my tongue as I face straight ahead again like I’m a freaking mannequin at the mall.

It’s stupid to assume Reeves hasn’t noticed me. He’s literally right behind me. And the smirk on his annoyingly attractive face when we made eye contact? Yup. He definitely noticed meandmy response to the bastard’s presence. I tuck my sweaty palms into the crooks of my elbows and stare straight ahead.

“Miss?” the barista repeats.

Shit.

Again?

How long has she been talking to me? And how long have I been completely spacing out in front of her?

I clear my throat and paste on an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Heat spreads along my neck and shoulder when a forearm comes into view in front of me. Tucked between two fingers, Reeves offers the barista his credit card. “I’ll have what she’s having. Thanks.”

The barista smiles up at Reeves and takes his card, swiping it in her little machine while my brain attempts to catch up with what happened.

Reeves bought my drink.

Reeves. Bought. My. Drink.

It’s not a big deal. Or at least it shouldn’t be, but a stupid voice in my head points out how the only people who buy me drinks are my family and two dates, both of whom wound up burnt by said coffee. Not on purpose, mind you, but the aftermath was the same.

Yeah, it was a real hoot, and I prefer tonotmake it a hat trick this morning.

The barista hands Reeves his card back and sets a steaming cup of coffee on the counter. I grab it, veering left to keep a wide berth from the man behind me so I don’t spill my fresh java all over him. Because with my luck? It's almost a sure thing.

“Dylan,” Reeves calls, but I don’t answer him. I continue on my merry way like I’ve officially gone deaf.

Yeah, this isn’t awkward at all.

“Dylan, wait up!”

I duck my head and push the exit door open, anxious to get the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Reeves calls out.

His tone reeks of exasperation, so I spin around and fold my arms, careful not to jostle my cup as I face him fully. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“It seems like you’re avoiding me.”

“Maybe I’m protecting you.”

“From what?”

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