Page 22 of Good Luck Charm for the Wolf

“That’s the minimum, Spike. Go on. Get googling.”

I stare after her, jaw slack, while Horace makes some extremely unnecessary kissy noises from behind me.

“What a darling girl,” Uncle Uzzi chimes in.

“A darling girl? Uncle Uzzi, she’s human. It won’t work.”

“Oh, son, I would not tell the Fates that,” he replies easily, kinda like he’s narrating my downfall.

“Face it. You’re doomed,” Horace the asshole adds.

I groan, slumping back in my chair and feeling like I’ve just been hit by a Mack truck.

This can’t be happening.

Except it is.

Because in the great cosmic game of life Doug the Lone Wolf? Yeah, he ain’t alone no more.

Apparently, I just got matched.

And judging by the way Dina’s still smiling at me from across the room?

I might be a lot of things, but deep down, even I know they’re all right.

I’m so, so screwed.

Chapter 7

Dina

Friday Night (technically very early Saturday morning), I am finally in my own room.

Closing the pizzeria is always a long process, but one of our cleaning crew didn’t show and I had to pick up the slack. So yeah, I got in way later than usual. And I broke a nail.

But the weird thing is I don’t even care.

And I know it is all because of him. Doug.

The Werewolf.

I flop back onto my bed with a satisfied sigh, hair wrapped in a towel, skin soft and clean from a long, steamy shower that successfully banished pizza grease, flour, and whatever awkward, maybe magical, tension clung to me after the weirdest shift ever.

The sheets are cool, the room dim and peaceful, and for the first time all day, everything feels calm.

Until my phone buzzes.

I glance at the screen, and my lips quirk when I see the notification:

A familiar glowing pink logo sits at the top of the screen, and I can’t help but bite my lip.

It’s the Date to Mate App.

DATE TO MATE INBOX

YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE FROM DOUG.

Oh ho.

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