Page 12 of Witch's Wolf

“Come on,” she says, grinning. “Strawberry or apricot? Don’t make me choose for you.”

I take the jar, letting her chatter fill the air, but my thoughts keep slipping away.

What’s Sam doing right now? And why can’t I stop thinking about him?

The doorbell rings, sharp and unexpected. My hand freezes mid-swipe, the knife poised over the bread. I glance at Monica, who frowns and wipes her hands on a dishtowel.

“Expecting someone?” I ask softly.

“No,” she replies, tossing the towel onto the table and heading for the door.

My heart thuds against my ribs, an icy knot forming in my stomach. I don’t know how I know, but Iknow.My breath catches as she walks to the front door and the knot in my chest twists tighter.

It’s him. I’m sure of it.

7

ERICA

“Sam…! We missed you at dinner last night,” Monica says, her voice slicing through the quiet of the morning and my heart at the same time.

He’s here. The instant I see him my betraying heart skips a beat. All six foot three of him, every inch of that a magnetic mix of strength and control. He waltzes into Monica’s home like he belongs. His eyes sweep the living room, deliberate and slow, before shifting to the kitchen where I stand, frozen, unable to take a full breath.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice gentle but weighted enough to ripple through me. “Monica, sorry to interrupt, but can I borrow your friend for a minute?”

Sam’s gaze stays on me as Monica’s grin stretches, her eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. She’s not even trying to hide her amusement.

“I don’t see the point,” I mutter, aiming for nonchalance but missing completely. My heart is hammering so loud I’m sure they can both hear it. “But, sure, what the hell…?”

I shuffle towards him, my shoulders tense and feeling awkward. This is somehow worse than any ‘walk of shame’ and I didn’t even get a good roll before it.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Monica,” I say, voice tighter than I’d like.

Her smirk follows me out the door as I step onto the porch and into the cool morning air.

“So…” I exhale, squinting at him as the door clicks shut. “You’re the last person I expected to see today, especially after your no-show last night.”

“To be honest,” he says, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans, “I didn’t plan on stopping by now either.” He stares off the porch towards the trees, not looking at me. He steps onto the sidewalk. “Walk with me.”

“Since we’re being honest,” I say, falling into step beside him, “I didn’t miss you at dinner.”

“I can’t blame you.” His tone is easy, but there’s an edge in his voice, a layer of self-awareness I don’t miss. “It would’ve been embarrassing… for both of us.”

“Is that why you didn’t show?” I ask, studying his profile. “To spareusthe embarrassment?”

“It was a factor,” he says, his voice soft but steady. He keeps his gaze forward and I have this sense that he’s weighing his next words carefully. “Mostly, I needed to clear my head.”

I slow my pace, curiosity tangling with frustration.

“I’d pay a lot of money for a peek inside that head of yours,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. I glance back at the house,half-expecting Monica to be watching from a window, but if she is, I don’t see her. “What are you thinking, Sam? Because I’m lost when it comes to you.”

He stops walking, his boots scraping against the gravel as he turns to face me. His gaze is heavy, pinning me in place.

“You think I don’t notice you staring?” I ask, my voice gaining strength even as my chest tightens. “Over and over. Then, when I throw myself at you, you just…” my throat clenches, but I push through, “walk away. Why?”

His jaw tightens as his gaze flicks away, then back to mine.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he says finally, his voice low and raw.

---