Page 58 of Hunter Moon

“Really needed some more butterscotch, huh?”

I gave him my best helpless shrug. “What can you do? Sometimes you’ve just gotta have it.”

His cheeks flushed bright red at the words, and I tried not to cringe. It had not been the plan, to allude to his upcoming heat. Could I be any clumsier?

“It is pretty good,” he said after a moment, voice as soft as silk.

I stepped aside, so he could get to the cash register if he wanted to, or ring the bell, or whatever. “Here for dinner?”

He shrugged, but then didn’t lower his shoulders again, leaving them hunched around himself, head ducked and eyes averted. “Not really. I just, um. It’s not important.”

“Here ya go,” Wanda announced, coming out of the back with a bag in hand. “My own offering to help grease the wheels of love. Don’t screw it up this time.” She paused when she saw Brook, but shrugged, and held the bag out to him. “Since I’m sure it’s for you anyway.”

Brook blinked at her in surprise, and it took him a moment to reach out and take the bag. His cheeks flushed again at the sight of its contents, and he pulled it up to hold it against his chest. “Thank you, Mrs. Chadwick.”

She waved us off. “Go on, have fun. Someone should.”

And without doing whatever it was he’d come in to do, Brook turned and walked out. I followed along, getting ahead to hold the door open for him.

“I can, um, follow you home.” I blinked at the way that had come out, and Brook cocked his head in confusion. “In a not as creepy as that sounded kind of way.”

“That leaves a lot of options, since that sounded more than a little creepy.” Brook didn’t seem put off, or even annoyed, just had a little half smile on his face as he watched me struggle to find words that came out right.

I sighed, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I know you’re at work, and you’ve got the truck, so it would be weird to give you a ride home. But I, uh, got you some stuff. I guess I could just give it to you here.”

From the heat in my face, it was my turn to go red in the cheeks. Not to mention feeling like a complete tool.

One of Brook’s eyebrow’s lifted, his lips quirking up. It looked like a combination of confused and—I hoped—reluctantly charmed.

Helpless to do anything but give him what he wanted, I led him back to the Mustang, pulling out the bag of groceries. “It’s just some, uh, some stuff you might want this week. Wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

Brook peeked into the bag, his eyes widening in surprise, then confusion, then—was that disappointment?

“If there’s anything else you want, I’ll get it for you,” I promised, as earnest as I could be. If he wanted me to drive to the bay and buy him fresh crabs, I’d do it. Anything. I took a step toward him, meeting his eye. “Anything you want, Brook. You just let me know. Or text me. Anytime.”

He hadn’t said anything in way too long, so I forced myself to stop rambling, stop making promises, and ducked my head as I held out my grocery store haul.

36

Brook

Istared down into the grocery bags. There was a whole ass tray of bread pudding in the bottom of a paper bag from Wanda, and carefully, Aspen settled the other groceries in my arms so the container didn’t get squished.

And there I was, arms full of proof that Aspen was thinking about me, that his inclination was to take care and provide even when I hadn’t mentioned my heat or asked him for anything.

I blinked fast, the bag crinkling as I squeezed my haul to my chest. “This is really nice. I’m sure it’s plenty.” I stared up at him and smiled, ignoring the way my lips trembled.

His eyes were wide. He’d promised me anything, and I knew, if I said I wanted him to drive me home and stay locked up in my room for a week, if I said he needed to find someone to drive Dad’s truck home for me and I was simply too heat stricken to take care of myself or my responsibilities, Aspen would swoop in and see to everything. He’d bend over backward trying to prove he was there and make up for leaving and try to help me feel safe.

But for years before he’d left, I’d spent my heats with Aspen. I’d been comfortable and happy and relaxed and—and really, those times had been perfect.

This time, my heat was coming and acid was bubbling in my gut. It wasn’t going to be perfect or comfortable. I was scared, nervous about the things I’d feel and remember when my mental defenses were stripped back.

And while I’d caught Aspen’s scent and followed him, willingly, into Chadwick’s Grille, that had been instinct. My brain shorted out and I’d trailed after him because that was what the wolf wanted.

It wasn’t thinking straight. Really, I needed Aspen to remember I was normal, not think I was some broken thing. I’d already burst into tears in front of him—who knew what’d happen during my heat?

Far better for me to spend it alone, then get back to this when I could think straight.

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