Page 22 of A Queen and Her Knight

Cleo released a harsh breath, and Zoe lifted her head guiltily. “I thought you were sneaking out,” Cleo accused, although her gaze tripped down over Zoe’s body before she met Zoe’s stare.

“You want to make me breakfast?” Zoe asked in return, totally confused. “You told your mom you weren’t seeing anyone.”

Cleo’s eyes widened. After a pause, she nodded. “I thought you were sleeping, but of course you heard that. You slept through me getting up without even twitching, but apparently the sound of my voice woke you right up. How much of that call did you hear? Because you don’t know my mother. I had to…oh. Is that…?” Her sudden smile was like the absence of pain when healing was done. “Is that why you were sneaking out? You thought I wasn’t serious about you?”

“You said—” Zoe shrugged, although she could hear the hurt in her tone and knew Cleo could too “—what you said. And I couldn’t smell you.”

“So you didn’t know I was lying,” Cleo interpreted, and nodded again. “No wonder you all hate lying so much. I’m sorry. Humans lie as routine, and my mother is… determined. If I told her I was seeing someone, she’d have questions. And once she found out I’d slept with you so fast—and she would have, she’s like that—she’d have been worried. I just… didn’t want to deal with that. Not this morning.”

Zoe pressed her thighs together. It did not make her feel any more dressed. “Is she…? Would she be unhappy to know about me?”

“My mother is protective.” The way Cleo said it made Zoe think of Cleo saying other people had left her before she could even make them breakfast.

“Have you made a lot of people breakfast?” Zoe wondered, and nearly bit her tongue. “That’s not my business. I meant that I don’t understand why anyone would leave you, before, um, before breakfast.”

“I don’t have a lot of one-night stands, if that’s what you’re asking.” Cleo tapped the countertop for a second. “But I have dated people who, metaphorically anyway, left before things really began. I think… what did you say last night? You have to show you can provide? You feed the person you like, to show you’re ready for more?” Zoe nodded, not following, and Cleo glanced at her small kitchen table. “I think I’ve been offering that to other people without realizing I was. Did you want to borrow some underwear?” She changed the subject so suddenly Zoe only blinked at her. Then she lost herself for a moment while imagining herself in her mate’s panties.

Cleo must have had a similar thought, because she bit her lip and gave Zoe a heavy look. “Or,” she went on, “I might find a pair of sweatpants that’ll fit you, for you to wear while you eat.” The corners of her mouth curved up this time. “I like you in sweatpants.”

If Zoe’s stomach hadn’t been rumbling, she would have forgotten about breakfast entirely. “You’re flirting with me?” she asked, puzzled. “And you’re going to make food for me?” Something important was eluding her, but she couldn’t focus to pinpoint what it was. “Do you want help? I can cook. Or you don’t need to make anything fancy. Weres will eat anything.”

“You can say that again.” Cleo stuck out her tongue at her.

“Youareflirting with me!” Zoe stopped in astonishment, then put her hands to her cheeks. Her t-shirt immediately rode up again, causing Cleo’s eyes to drop.

She hummed. “You’re a constant surprise, Deputy Zoe Browne.” Cleo met Zoe’s startled gaze. “With that rude woman in the restaurant, you were exactly how you seemed whenever I saw you in town, fierce and serious, short with words. Then, right now, I don’t know whether to pet you or fuck you.” Zoe gave a start. But Cleo wasn’t quite done. “Or just feed you.”

For several seconds, Zoe felt like one of those people who sat at the library bookshop to watch the firefighters wash the trucks. The firefighters flirted the way Cleo did, especially when someone they wanted was in the audience.

Zoe had never understood it, teasing someone who obviously wanted you desperately, making them desire you so much they could barely think. If she were watching Cleo like that, she’d probably stare until her eyes were stinging and her cheeks were tomato red, and she’d agree to anything Cleo asked.

“I like you,” Zoe admitted quietly. “I really like you, in a way I can’t help. And I want you to like me. It’s making me… awkward. More than usual.”

Her mate took a long, long breath and then let it out with a satisfied sound. Then she patted the table. “Then come sit down, so I can cook you all the food.”

Zoe gave her shirt another useless tug, and then walked slowly into the kitchen. She sat, studying her mate in absolute wonder when Cleo grinned to see Zoe at her table. She showed teeth, like a pleased wolf, and then everything finally clicked.

Her mate was wooingher.The teasing, the offer of clothing, of breakfast. These were to convinceZoeto stay. As if Zoe would be going anywhere.

Zoe sat up straight. “You don’t have to go into work?”

“Not until later.” Cleo seemed unconcerned with time as she swayed to her refrigerator to pull out milk and eggs.

“And you don’t want my help?” Zoe asked again, which made Cleo pause.

She put the food down and then approached the table. “Well, Ididforget something,” she remarked innocently, before bending down to give Zoe an unexpected kiss. She pulled away several moments later, breathing harder, and beamed at the expression on Zoe’s face, and Zoe’s soft whisper for more. Then, as though nothing had occurred, wheneverythinghad just happened, she went to start the coffee.

Hot all over, Zoe stared unabashedly as her almost-mate made her breakfast.

~~

Zoe made it to Robin’s Egg’s sometime around ten, although she wasn’t really certain of the exact minute. She knew the sun was out, she knew the approaching fall-scent was getting stronger, and she knew her mate put strawberries on her French toast when strawberries were in season. They weren’t now, but next year Zoe would get her some. A whole bushel, or whatever it was strawberries came in.

There might be a next year. The idea was so heady Zoe had nearly walked into a stop sign on her way over. Zoe had beenwooed. By a non-were, who hadn’t even had to be told about the traditions first.

She had eaten breakfast as neatly as she could, although syrup was probably in her hair, and felt ridiculously proud of herself for bringing so many smiles to her mate’s face simply by accepting her food and staying.

She had learned that her mate normally took long showers but couldn’t that morning because of the time she’d spent cooking and then crowding Zoe against her sink when Zoe had offered to do the dishes and gotten her t-shirt wet. Her mate only ever loosely made the bed, but couldn’t leave for work if her kitchen was a mess. She spent ten minutes applying her makeup in smooth, practiced motions, but took longer when she noticed Zoe watching her put on lipstick with hot fascination. Zoe had put on her wrinkled uniform with a new shirt underneath and a borrowed pair of underwear that she blushed to think about, and then walked alongside her mate in the morning sunlight after remembering she’d left her truck by the Flores.

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