“Both of those things can wait until you’ve caught up on sleep a little more.”
“I guess.” I yawned, running my hand through the top of my hair. The motion dragged his eyes back to me. His attraction was so freaking obvious. And honestly, it made me feel like a million bucks.
He started cooking, and I watched for a few minutes. His gaze flicked back to me every ten or fifteen seconds, like he couldn’t help it.
“You look like you’re trying to decide whether or not to ask me something,” I said. “Just ask. I’m not shy.”
“I have so many questions, I’m not sure where to start,” he admitted.
That was understandable.
After the months my wolf had spent following him around, I knew where he stood on just about everything.
He loved his job and had no desire to move away from his house on the lake.
He could go either way as far as having kids, but wouldn’t want more than one. Two would be a hard max.
Same. Werewolves had a hard time getting pregnant anyway.
He loved my artwork and wanted to see me paint in person. He really wanted to know why I’d become an artist and how everything had gone down with that, but hadn’t been able to ask for obvious reasons.
He thought relationships with the people you cared about were important. After having to move away from his blood-relatedfamily to get space from his ex, he had joined the feral pack and become the guy everyone called when they got a flat tire. His people all knew Graham would drop anything and everything to help them out.
Politically, we shared views and values that were almost completely aligned.
He loved being outdoors.
He loved being a werewolf.
Regardless of what life threw at him, he’d need a few minutes to come around to whatever had changed, and then he’d figure out a way to roll with the punches.
He wasn’t loud or energetic.
He was calm. Steady. Content.
And that was exactly what I wanted and needed in my life.
But he didn’t know me—and I needed to fix that. He was laid-back enough to take his sweet time getting to know me. After watching through my wolf’s eyes for so long, I knew him well enough that I’d rather just jump headfirst into everything.
When he was comfortable with it, of course.
“Alright, let’s do a speed-dating thing. I’ll give you a quick rundown, and you can ask me anything you want until we finish eating. The cutoff is purely because I’m going to crash again as soon as I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You should. Furball was hunting for a long time.”
I nodded and held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Stella. I like long walks through the forest, rare steak, art in any form, and apparently, guys who wear pajama pants with s’mores on them.”
Graham’s face reddened, but there was no missing the grin that lit up those gorgeous green eyes as he put his elbow in my hand and shook it. He was in the process of cutting vegetables, so the elbow shake was probably a better call than using his hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“Indeed.”
A snort escaped him.
My lips curved upward. “I’m serious. Ask me anything.”
“Have you been with anyone since your ex?” he asked.
“Right to the good stuff, huh?”
