Page 32 of Wolf's Chance

“Maybe you weren’t asking the right questions.”

“Okay, let’s see if you can help me out. How long have you been psychic?”

I laughed. He didn’t. I stopped laughing as he waited for an answer. “You’re serious?”

“You see me when you sleep. Right?” I nodded. “You’re either a psychic or a witch.”

My elbow dug into his side, hitting solid muscle, and he didn’t move an inch. “I’m not a witch!”

“I don’t think so either,” he mused. “Which brings me back to psychic. Or prophet?” His look was assessing. “No, not prophet, Luna doesn’t need them.”

“Who’s Luna?”

“My Goddess.”

Whoa, I was not expecting him to be religious. “I think that’s blasphemy.”

Caleb’s lips twitched. “Not to me, it isn’t. You keep your God, I’ll keep mine.”

“Are you a monk?”

His burst of surprised laughter made me smile. I didn’t think he had laughed since I met him. “I’m no monk.”

Yeah, he was too…manlyto be celibate. “Minister?”

He frowned. “Is that the same thing?”

“I think they can get married.”

“Huh. No, I’m not that either. I’m just a man.”

Turning on the step, I faced him, looking at him so closely I was bordering on invading his personal space, before I drew back, putting some space between us. “And yet again, you lie.”

NINE

Caleb

I didn’t hidethe smirk as Willow met my gaze fearlessly. She was so slight, so frail, and yet here she was, ready to challenge me.

“You doubt that I’m a man?”

Willow flushed, her gaze automatically dipping down, and I knew she remembered checking me out the other day. She thought I didn’t notice. I noticed everything.

“I know you’re a man,” she grumbled. “Your pig-headed arrogance goes hand in hand with the levels of your testosterone.”

I laughed. She was funny even when she meant to insult me. She kept me entertained at least. “Ouch, you wound me,” I teased.

“I’d like to wound you,” she muttered as she got to her feet. “Come inside. I feel exposed sitting out here.”

I could have told her there was nothing to worry about. I could have told her there was no one listening that shouldn’t be.I could have told her many things, but instead, I stood and followed her inside.

“Tea?”

“No.”

She hesitated, then she set about making herself tea. We didn’t talk as she went through her routine, and this time instead of tea leaves, she settled on a bag in a cup instead. When she had her beverage, she walked past me, taking a seat on the couch.

“Where do you want to start?”

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