Page 15 of Can't Help Growling in Love
She steps to the first person in line, a woman about a decade older than her, and hands her a couple of bills. Moments later, she’s waiting by the counter for her drink, chatting with the woman, but as soon as she accepts her takeaway cup from the barista, she heads over, inclining her head toward the door.
I’m up and following her without hesitation. If she wants to get out of here, I’m not going to argue.
“You pulled some coffee shop magic there,” I comment, then take a sip of my coffee, even though I don’t need the caffeine right now.
June grimaces. “I usually never jump the line, but Katie was right there.” She sends me a quick glance, then faces forward again, walking slowly by my side. “I’m sorry if I presumed, but you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else but in there.”
We take a left and stroll down to the marina. The wind picks up, blowing in from the lake, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting it cool my overheated skin.
“I’m not good with crowds,” I admit. “The noise…”
She peers up at me, her eyebrows raised. “And the touching?”
I swallow against a suddenly tight throat. “Yeah. And the touching.”
This is the point where she’ll thank me for my company and say that she has to leave for work. I’m sure of it, yet I follow her anyway because I’m unable to do anything else.
“I’m sorry. That I touched you before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She stops at a bench overlooking the boats bobbing in the wind and sits, waiting for me to do the same. “You shook my hand yesterday. Is that an okay type of contact?”
I stare at her. “You don’t think it’s weird I’m like that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t like strangers touching me either. There are very few people who do. But if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your boundaries so I don’t make it worse for you. If you’re willing to tell me, of course. I don’t have any right to ask, but if you’re?—”
“I like it if you’re the one touching me.”
My face flames with embarrassment the moment the words are out of my mouth. I hang my head, cursing softly, then force myself to meet June’s gaze. A smile plays on her lips, but she waits in silence, giving me time to organize my thoughts.
“Sorry, that sounded weird.” I shake my head and try again. “It’s worse if all my other senses are overwhelmed. My therapist calls it sensory overload. In the coffee shop, there were so many people, and the noise, the smells.”
I wrinkle my nose, remembering the bitter tang of the spent coffee grounds.
She holds her coffee cup between her hands and leans forward. “I understand. Crowded places are sometimes a lot even for humans, so I can’t imagine how much worse they must be for someone with supernaturally sharp senses. But I surprised you, too, right?”
I blow out a breath, relief coursing through me at her acceptance. “You did. But not in a bad way.”
“No?” She grins at that and sets her cup on the bench between us. “Okay. Would it make more sense if you initiated the contact?”
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I was so sure earlier that I’d blown it—again—but June isn’t going anywhere. We’ll both have to leave for work soon, I know that, but I don’t want to break this moment.
“I don’t want to do anything that would freak youout,” I grumble. I fiddle with the paper baggie holding the cupcakes. The tips of my fingers tingle, a sure sign that my claws are about to push through.
“How about you tell me what you want to do, and I’ll tell you if I’d enjoy it.” She turns toward me, her knees nearly touching mine. “And if you think you’d likemeto do something, I can do that, too.”
I set my cup next to hers on the bench between us. My hands tremble with the need to reach for her. She’s saying all these things, but I don’t think she knows how much I want to touch her right now.
But she’s gazing at me expectantly, her expression open, and I can’t stop the words that slip off my tongue.
“Can I smell you?”
Chapter
Eight
JUNE
My heartbeat skitters at Asher’s quiet question.
Can I smell you?
