Page 24 of Wrong Number, Right Valentine

House after house was a bigger disappointment than the one before. We weren’t even asking for much, at least I didn’t think we were. We had a decent budget, didn’t require a mansion or endless acres of land, and still, every showing felt worse than the last.

When Rory, our real estate agent, called and said she had more houses to show us, I’d be lying if I said I was optimistic. If anything, I was starting to wonder if we should just save up a bitlonger and build something instead. But then I remembered that finding the right property would probably be just as disastrous, with our luck. No, we just had to play the game and hope we were eventually dealt a winning hand.

The first house Rory took us to that day was a mid-century modern. Normally, I liked that style—clean lines, open spaces, and a retro charm. But this house hadn’t been updated since it was built. The original electrical and plumbing systems were still in place, and even the carpeting was untouched. You’d think it might have been a good thing, like a preserved classic, but no. The materials chosen weren’t high quality, and years of neglect hadn’t done them any favors. What could have been a gorgeous retro kitchen was instead a collection of dilapidated cabinets and a bumpy floor. Don’t even get me started on the bathrooms. It was an easy pass.

The next house was what Rory called a high ranch, where the first floor was essentially half a basement. You walked in the front door and immediately had to go up or down; there was no true main level. The layout was fine, I guess, but the backyard backed right up to train tracks. I could feel the rumble of an oncoming train long before it arrived, and when it did, the entire house shook. My wolf was not a fan. Another one crossed off the list.

“There’s one last place,” Rory said. “It just came back on the market. It was pending, but I should disclose that the sale fell through—and not because of financing.”

We’d learned that financing was usually the main reason sales fell through. Sometimes the house didn’t appraise high enough for a mortgage, or there was some other hiccup.

“So, what was it?” my mate asked, curious. I was almost afraid to know. “What messed the sale up?”

“Well,” Rory hesitated, “the buyers got a little scared. During the inspection, they saw a wolf in the woods behind the house.”

Woods? That sounded promising. If it was a shifter, we’d make friends. If it was a wild wolf, the second it caught my scent, it would be gone. Either way, it was doable.

“Let’s check it out,” I said.

The moment we walked in, I could tell this house was different. It had everything we wanted. The bedrooms were a decent size, and the kitchen… Whoever had redone the kitchen knew what they were doing. It was stunning—a perfect balance of storage and counter space, and the stove? A thing of dreams. I could already imagine making my mate a fancy dinner or even a simple breakfast here.

“I think we want to put an offer down,” my mate said, grabbing my hand.

We hadn’t even discussed what the offer would look like, but we were both in agreement that this was the one.

“What do you suggest?” I asked Rory.

“Well, I have access to the previous offer. We can base it off that and possibly shave a little off. At this point, they’re probably very ready to sell.”

Within an hour, we had signed and emailed over the offer. Later that evening, the call came—the one saying our offer had been accepted.

It was going to become our home.

“I can’t believe we found it.” My mate snuggled into my side as we settled into bed for the night. “Rory said we can close in a month. There’s a lot to do before then.”

“And we’ll get it done, or we won’t. It’s not like we’ll be homeless if we need more time to get everything all together.” I pressed a kiss to his head.

“I know, but I’m so ready for us to have a home together. This going back and forth works, but it’s not the same.”

No. It wasn’t.

“Want to talk about paint colors and furniture?” I was ready to figure everything out, but also, it had been a long day, and if he wanted to get some sleep, I understood that, too. It wasn’t like we could do anything right now, even if we picked out the perfect shade for the living room.

“Nope.” He rolled onto his side. “I have something better in mind.”

“Oh really, and what might that be?”

He walked his fingers down my chest… lower… lower… and lower until they grazed the tip of my filling cock. “I thought maybe we could play a little game of enjoying our mate?”

“I think that could be arranged.”

His fingers wrapped around my cock, effectively ending our conversation.

19

BANKS

“Do we really need two ice cream scoops?”

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