Page 133 of She Wolf

“Having your little house gave you something that was yours, even if just for a while. I get why you need to think this over and I’ll leave you to your quiet.” He gives me a warm smile.

“Rose cleaned up after Hollywood was here last weekend so the spare bed has fresh sheets on, but if you leave, the door will automatically lock behind you. I won’t set the alarm. The tequila is in the cupboard to your right or there’s water in the fridge.” He swills his glass and puts it on the side.

“You’re very astute, Callan.” He just looks at me and then starts to back away.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“To bed.”

“Umm, okay, good night. And thank you.”This is so weird.

“You’re welcome,” he says as he turns and leaves me alone. In his house.

“Hey, Callan, what do you mean restocked? Who else comes over for margaritas?” I shout to his retreating form, but I’m only met with silence.

I bend down to the cupboard for the tequila and pour myself another drink. “You’re an enigma, Callan Knight!”

The thing is now I’ve got my silence, I don’t even know where to start unpacking all the crap that’s taking up too much space in my head and—oh my god—he didn’t just make a cake, he made Madeleines and they’re still warm.

Wowzers, Cranky Callan makes the best, most delicious treats ever.

Chapter Thirty-One

Coralie

Athroat clears and I nearly jump out of my skin, startled awake. The sunlight pouring in through the bi-folds is too much for my eyes to take and the crick in my neck hurts somethin’ fierce. When I turn my head, Gunner and Callan stand side by side, arms crossed, biceps bulging.

“I…Hello,” I say in a voice too deep as I slink off the chair. The flurry of cake crumbs that fall from my tank and onto the hardwood floor does nothing for my trying to be nonchalant.

You know, like I wake up at Callan’s like this every morning.

“I ask you to move in with me and you run to another man's house.” Gunner points to Callan, “My friend's house. Eat all his baked goods, drink his tequila, and then pass out at his kitchen table?” Gunner asks, quirking his brow.

“Yes?” I don’t even know what day it is, and my tongue feels furry and like it’s too big for my mouth. I must have nodded off a few hours ago.

“You’re lucky he texted me the second you got here otherwise I would have been driving around trying to find you. I was worried sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I say sincerely. It was a horrible thing to do—to just take off. We hadn’t even argued. He definitely didn’t deserve me running like that.

Gunner shakes his head at me, “Wanna go get you a vat of coffee and talk this through like two rational adults?”

“I do. Where’s Jack?”

“Trying to teach Biscuit to shoot a puck.”

“Huh?” I say scrunching my eyes closed. Did he just say what I think he said?

“Yep. Kate’s watching him.” His tone is even and patient, if a little snarky.

“Pfffft. Okay,” is all I can manage as I try to drag my numb ass behind him.

“Callan—”

“Anytime Coralie,” he says with a small smile. What a guy. He’s one complicated fellow but that heart of his is huge.

***

Back in Gunner’s room, I’ve crawled into bed, clothes and all, waiting to see what Gunner has to say. It smells like him. Actually, it smells like the both of us. He’s perched on the end of the bed rubbing his chest and sighs.

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