Page 28 of Howling Mad
Her rambling is endearing, and I have to fight the urge to smile as her words tumble over each other.
“My contract with the agency.”I keep my voice steady despite the thunder of my pulse.“I want to terminate it.”
Her face falls, and she drops the papers she’s been clutching.“Oh.You’re giving up?After the hippo profile, I understand completely.That was entirely my fault, and I…”
“No.”I place my hand over hers, stopping the nervous shuffling of papers.“I’m not giving up.I’m acknowledging that continuing to pretend I’m looking for a match when I’ve already found someone I want to be with doesn’t feel honest.”
She freezes, eyes widening.“You’ve found someone?”
I wait, one heartbeat, two, hoping she’ll make the connection.When she doesn’t, I take a deep breath.“Finley, the only times I’ve felt genuinely happy in months have been during our consultation sessions.Not the dates, not the matches.Just talking with you.”
Her lips part in surprise, and I force myself to keep going before I lose my nerve.“Tomorrow night, thispractice date...I don’t want it to be practice.I don’t want it to be research.I want it to be real.”
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words.I’ve miscalculated.I’ve crossed a line.I’ve ruined everything.My mind races through damage control scenarios when she finally speaks.
“Red’s going to be insufferably smug about this.”A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.“She’s already cleared a spot on the wall.I caught her measuring frames yesterday.”
My breath catches.“Is that a yes?”
“To what?You haven’t actually asked me anything.”Her smile widens, challenging me.
I gather every ounce of courage I possess.“Finley, would you like to go on an actual date with me tomorrow night?No research, no practice, just...us?”
“I’d like that.”Her voice is soft, but her eyes are bright with something that makes my heart stutter.“I’d like that very much.”
The tension in my shoulders releases so suddenly I nearly sway.Before I can respond, Red pokes her head into the doorway.
“Did he finally ask you?The suspense is killing me, and these walls are very thin.”She holds up a measuring tape and a small picture frame.“I’ve already selected the matting.I was thinking forest green with little wolf paw prints.Thoughts?”
Finley’s laugh fills the small space, and I join her.Red beams at us both and then vanishes as quickly as she appeared, leaving us alone again.
“So…” Finley takes a step closer.“Tomorrow night at seven o’clock—and it’s a real date.”
“A real date,” I confirm, resisting the urge to touch her.Not yet.Not here.“I should probably go before I say or do something that would make Red add heart-shaped stickers to that frame.”
Finley’s blush deepens, and I file away that reaction for future reference.“Probably a good idea.”
As I turn to leave, she catches my arm.“Michael?”
I look back, raising an eyebrow in question.
“I’m glad you terminated your contract.”Her smile is genuine in a way that makes my chest ache.
“Best financial decision I’ve ever made,” I say, earning another laugh that follows me out of the agency and into the evening air.
Thenexttwenty-fourhourspass in a blur of meticulous planning.I make reservations at three different restaurants, unable to decide which would be perfect.I settle on The Moonlit Garden, a rooftop restaurant specifically designed for shifters with private booths and special lighting that accommodates night vision.Then I cancel and reserve at The Silver Spoon instead but then cancel again and go back to my first choice.The maître d’ threatens to block my number if I change my mind one more time.
I change clothes seven times, discarding outfits that suddenly seem too formal, too casual, too “I’m trying way too hard” or “I’m not trying hard enough.”I even consider wearing a tie with tiny wolves on it that Aunt Eleanor gave me as a joke last Christmas before sanity prevails.
I settle on dark jeans and a charcoal button-down that Eleanor once said “brings out the storm in my eyes,” whatever that means.I spend an inordinate amount of time on my hair, trying to tame the one stubborn wave that never cooperates.By the sixth attempt, I give up and accept some battles can’t be won.
The clock ticks forward with agonizing slowness, each minute stretching like an hour.I reorganize my sock drawer by color gradient, alphabetize my bookshelf, and then switch to organizing by genre, author, and publication date before returning to alphabetical.I consider calling Aunt Eleanor for moral support but decide against it when I remember her tendency to offer dating advice from werewolf romance novels.
By six-thirty, I can’t stand the waiting any longer and head to Finley’s apartment, knowing I’ll be early but past caring.I stop to select flowers and then put them back before deciding to buy them for sure.Traditional?Too cliché?The florist regards me with a mixture of pity and amusement as I debate the merits of roses versus wildflowers versus succulents.I finally settle on a small bouquet of wildflowers that remind me of the colors in Finley’s eyes.
Outside her building, I pause.This is it, the moment where everything changes.I run up the stairs and knock on Finley’s door, my heart pounding.I hear shuffling inside and a muffled curse before the door swings open to reveal...not Finley.
“If it isn’t Mr.Finance Wolf himself.”The woman, who must be Finley’s roommate, Penelope, stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, examining me with a mixture of amusement and assessment.She’s wearing what appears to be a crocheted cactus as a hat, which somehow fails to make her look any less intimidating.“You’re early.”
