Page 48 of The Cuddle Clause
Wait. Was she leaving?
She was. She was leaving without me. And I hated how much that stung.
I muttered some excuse to a council member’s wife who was too busy gushing over a hand-stitched table runner to notice my retreat. I slipped out the side door, every nerve in my body tuned to her.
The garden stretched out in wild elegance—stone paths and manicured hedges, roses curling around wrought-iron arches like they belonged to a different century. It was too curated. Too perfect. And still, all I could think about was how her perfume lingered on my shirt and how close she’d leaned into that guy’s space like it meant nothing.
I found her by the koi pond.
She stood near the edge, arms loose at her sides, staring into the water like it had answers she didn’t. Her reflection rippled and shimmered, so did mine as I approached, quiet but not subtle. I didn’t want to be subtle. Not right now.
I stepped in close. Closer than I should have.
Maggie turned slowly, chin tilted up, like she was ready for whatever this was.
“If you’re gonna flirt with other wolves…” I said, my voice dropping low, deliberate, even though I knew I wasn’t giving her enough credit as the words left my mouth. “At least wait until I’m not in the same damn room.”
She folded her arms across her chest, lips flattening into a challenge. “That’s not fair. You wanted fake. This is fake.”
That shouldn’t have hurt, but it landed like a punch to the ribs. I didn’t even know what part of that dug in the hardest—her saying it, or me knowing it was partly true. The worst part? I’d started to forget what was fake and what wasn’t.
We stared at each other, and something snapped tight between us. Tension wasn’t even the word. It was like the airbefore a storm or that beat of silence before a fight or a kiss. My pulse pounded in my ears. My eyes dropped to her lips.
God, her mouth.
I reached up before I could talk myself out of it and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t move. Didn’t stop me. Her skin was warm. Her breath hitched, barely, but I felt it.
We were close enough to count freckles. Close enough that one wrong move would mean no more pretending.
I wanted her. Right then. Right there. No brunch. No pack. No rules.
Then we heard the scream. A high-pitched, theatrical wail followed by a splash loud enough to scare the koi into next week.
We both whipped around to see Seraphina in the koi pond, arms flailing, hair soaked. Her dress clung to her like she’d planned this exact moment from her Pinterest board labeledDamsel Chic.
“Ohno!” she cried, already flipping her hair for maximum wet-drama. “I slipped!”
What a tragically timed accident.
I groaned.
There wasn’t another soul in sight except for Maggie, and if Seraphina drowned in Lucien’s koi pond, I’d be the one stuck filling out paperwork and fielding questions about aquatic death rituals.
So I sighed, pulled my shirt over my head, and crouched near the edge.
“Grab my hand,” I muttered.
She clung to my hand like I was a hero from a romance novel. Her fingers lingered. Her chest heaved in exaggerated gasps even though she’d barely gone under.
“Could you… could you hand me your shirt?” she asked. “I need to dry off.”
I handed it over, already regretting every decision that had led me to this precise moment. She dabbed at her face, which, might I add, was suspiciously dry.
And then I looked up. Maggie was a few steps back, hands over her mouth, body shaking with laughter she was desperately trying to smother. Her eyes sparkled. Her whole face was lit up with delight.
I gave her a look that saiddon’t you dare.
Too late.
