Page 3 of Wolf's Midlife Bite

“Well, we’re usually booked about two months in advance.”

Brody looked up and saw the sarcastic smile on her face. “So I hear. I guess I’ll have to make an appointment right away, then.”

“You should,” she smiled. “How’s it looking?”

“You’re done.” Brody wiped down her skin, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time he’d touch it.

“Are you serious? I hardly even felt a thing!” She pushed herself up onto her elbows.

Scooting back on his stool, Brody hit the foot pedal to raise her back to a seated position. “That’s what happens when you come to a professional. Go check it out.” He pointed toward the full-length mirror in the back corner of his booth.

Robin’s modesty seemed to fly out the window as she raced over to the mirror with her waistband still rolled down, holding her tummy up to study her new work. She was too focused on what Brody had done for her. “This is incredible. I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ve got some aftercare sheets for you, and you can always call if you have any questions.” Brody stripped off his gloves and pulled the papers out of a nearby file, the standard for every customer. But that only gave him another minute with her before he sent her out to pay at the front.

“Thanks.” Adjusting her pants, she reached for her purse. “And here’s the card for my office, if you really do want to have that tooth evaluated.”

His fingers brushed hers as he took it, energy crackling between them and straight up his arm. “I’ll see you there.”

2

“Eat up,but save some room. I’ve got homemade cheesecake for dessert!” Elaine Cassidy eagerly rolled her hands through the air to encourage her two daughters to get their forks back into their mouths as quickly as possible.

“Mom.” Robin looked at the tender roast beef, buttery mashed potatoes, and creamed corn on her plate. “I can’t keep eating like this every time I come here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to watch your weight.” Her mother gestured with a serving spoon as she gave Robin a firm look. Elaine wasn’t a particularly small woman herself, but she’d always taught her girls that there was much more to life than being a size zero.

“I’m not,” Robin replied. “I could care less about the calories. It’s the saturated fat. I’m forty years old, and I have to think about these things if I want to live another forty years.”

“It’s a nice, balanced meal,” her father replied as he generously spooned gravy over his plate. “And potatoes are good for you.”

“Not when they’re drenched in butter,” Robin retorted. Her last physical had gone well, but her cholesterol was slowly creeping upward, sparking a lecture about how these things start happening with age. She shook her head, hoping she wouldn’t have to revisit that topic next year.

“Don’t bother,” Renee advised as she stabbed a few small strips of meat and put them on her daughter’s plate. “They don’t listen. I told them that two years ago, but they’re still living in the fifties.”

“Oh, you girls are terrible!” their mother scolded, but they all laughed.

A deep sense of happiness bloomed in Robin’s chest. Family dinners had been a tradition for as long as she could remember. Her parents had toted her and Renee to their grandparents' house every Sunday. Though her grandma and grandpa were gone now, the custom carried on with only a change in venue. It was comforting to know that no matter what was happening in her life, she could always count on this.

“I don’twantgravy,” Kennedy protested, scowling at the dripping spoon that Renee had just lifted out of the gravy boat. She held her hands protectively over her roast beef. “It looks gross.”

“I know it doesn’t look that pretty, but it tastes good. You should try it, at least.”

Kennedy, sharp and observant even at just eight years old, glanced around the table. “Aunt Robin doesn’t have any on her plate.”

Renee gave her a pleading look.

She didn’t even need to ask. Robin held out her plate. “I’d love some, please.” So much for making this meal even the least bit healthy.

“Fine.” Kennedy reluctantly moved her hands so her mother could drizzle a bit of gravy over one end of the meat.

“Oh, shoot. I almost forgot. Kennedy’s class is doing their concert on Tuesday night if any of you can make it.” Renee beamed proudly at her daughter, who was ignoring the adult talk and sneering at her gravy.

Robin sighed. “Sorry, Tuesdays are when Dr. Watson does his special late nights for patients who can’t come in during the workday. He wouldn’t dare let me off unless I gave him a month’s notice or a signed doctor’s note.”

Kennedy sat up a little straighter. “That’s okay. We suck anyway.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Renee corrected gently.

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