Page 24 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

“Good morning,” I answer, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice. He turns from the stove and grins.

“Making a couple of omelets. There’s one for you, if you like.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I move around him, looking around as I try to figure out what the catch is. I’m starting to think he actually made an effort when I notice the dishes stacked on the drying rack. None of them are properly clean. He obviously didn’t wash them, just rinsed them and stacked them. Even though it pisses me off, I set my jaw and pour my coffee without saying a word.

“Here you go,” he announces proudly as he puts the plate down. “Hopefully, this makes up for last night.”

I cut off a small piece and taste it. The food is almost completely tasteless. I don’t know if he did that on purpose or just can’t cook.

We eat in silence. My anxiety rises as I contemplate a full day here with him in my house, dealing with his attitude. There’s no way I can open the bakery and try to work with him stuck to me like this. Only one option makes any sense.

“How about we head over to New Hope today?” I ask. “Check out your brother’s pack?”

“That’s a great idea,” he answers, smiling. “Thanks, Lucy. I’d like that.”

I examine his expression and tone, finding it genuine.

He actually thinks I’m doing something nice for him, instead of rescuing myself from a day of torture here alone with him.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll get dressed, then we can go.”

“Cool,” he says. “I’ll clean up.”

Please don’t.

By the time I get back, he’s stacked the dishes—and, predictably, not washed them. With some effort, I manage toignore the situation and get out of the house without losing my composure.

“I’m still wearing the same clothes from yesterday,” he says as we get in the car. “Can we do something about that?”

“They’ll have some stuff at New Hope you can have. Otherwise, we can stop somewhere and grab you some new clothes.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “I’m really pissed off about losing my trench coat.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” I say, gritting my teeth at his tone.

“You better. It was expensive, and I needed it to keep me warm on the hills.”

“You won’t be needing anything like that for a while. I’m not planning on sleeping in the woods anytime soon.”

“I still want a new coat!”

I let out a huge sigh, trying not to react.

“You act so put out by all of this,” he says. “But it was your spell. You might want to own the responsibility here.”

“I screwed up. I made that very clear,” I answer, my voice hard. “But until I can fix it, I’m just trying to get through it with the least amount of difficulty.”

“Oh, boy,” he chuckles. “That’s just fine—foryou. We’re living in your house, your town. What exactly has changed for you? Nothing. I’m the one making all the sacrifices.”

I focus on the road, keeping my lips pressed shut so I don’t engage. There’s no point arguing about this because he’s right.

I’ve never regretted a spell more in my entire life.

The ride to New Hope passes in uncomfortable silence. Peter seems satisfied that he landed the final hit and stares out the window, looking moody but satisfied. His eyes remain fixed on the far skyline of high mountains. I can almost sense the wolf in him begging to be free.

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