Page 7 of Good Luck Charm for the Wolf

Maybe it’s nothing.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the universe, or the Fates themselves, leaving neon-bright breadcrumbs right in front of me, practically screaming this way, dummy!

I glance down at my phone, and there it is.

That little pink icon for Date to Mate practically winks at me, like some mischievous digital cupid.

Uncle Uzzi’s creation.

Equal parts charming and wildly chaotic. Kind of like that sweet old man himself, now that I think about it.

I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip like it holds all the answers to the universe.

The screen glows softly, patient but persistent.

My half-finished profile stares back at me.

Judging. Waiting. Teasing.

Just grab your ovaries and do it, Dina.

Bold words for someone currently being bullied by an app.

I take a breath, summon whatever reckless, lonely, slightly lovesick goddess lives deep in my soul, and hit save.

There. Done.

Somehow, the air feels different.

Charged.

Like I’ve just signed up for something bigger than pizza orders and mural commissions.

Like destiny might actually be paying attention.

Something tells me things are about to get a whole lot weirder.

And you know what?

I really, really hope so.

Chapter 3

Doug

Fucking Bear.

I know he’s home. His car’s in the lot. His lights are on. And I can practically hear him growling all the way on the sidewalk from his fucking reinforced penthouse fortress.

Still no answer.

I jab the buzzer again like my life depends on it because, well, it kinda does right now.

I immediately swat at yet another hornet trying to make sweet, painful love to my earlobe.

That makes seventeen?

No, eighteen.

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