Instead, I found myself stepping carefully around my shopping cart. And slowly closing the distance between us.
I watched Nico closely as I moved, looking for any sign that going toward him was a bad idea.
He didn’t budge.
I wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
He wasn’t going to attack me if he wasn’t breathing.
Probably.
I stopped a foot or so away from him, looking up at his face in question.
Just how close was I supposed to get? All up in his business, or just?—
One of his hands landed on my hip. It was huge. Warm, too.
With one light tug, he pulled me to his chest.
My hands sprawled over his pecs as I tried—unnecessarily—to catch myself. They were thick. Super thick. No one should be that strong.
The red in his eyes grew brighter.
“Easy, Cucumber,” I whispered, once again speaking without thinking it through.
Why had I called him Cucumber?
I knew his name.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I was going to have to blame it on whatever weird, werewolfy magic made his eyes red. Otherwise, he’d think I was insane. If he didn’t already.
Which he most-likely did.
Yikes.
His forehead creased. Probably because I’d nicknamed him after a freaking vegetable. One that could be considered suggestive.
Yeah, that was smooth of me.
“Damn,” a male voice behind me said.
I didn’t recognize it as Cucumber’s—err, Nico’s—friend’s voice.
When I started to turn around, his friend spoke up.
“Eyes on Nico, remember?”
“Right. Sorry.” I refocused on the red-eyed hunk.
Why was I apologizing to a stranger in the grocery store?
Patriarchy, maybe.
Or lack of sleep.
It could’ve even been survival instincts while surrounded by potential werewolves.
