Page 9 of The Wolf's Surrogate

“I love them. I want to have my own someday, but I’m not in a place for that. Meanwhile, I can be helpful for someone else achieving that dream.”

“Do you care for your body? What’s your diet like? Would you have any medical needs during your pregnancy?”

Her grin lit up the room. “I love my body. I’m a meat eater, but I have a special fondness for berries and cheese. And no, I don’t have any special medical needs that I’m aware of. According to Patricia, my pregnancy is projected to be pretty normal.”

“Normal.” I repeated the word with disdain. Because shifters were far from normal. “Right, that’s good.”

“Anything else?”

My heart skipped a beat when she lifted the scone to her full lips. They weren’t rosy pink like they had been in her picture, but they were certainly glossy, carefully outlined with a peachy hue that made them far more appealing than they needed to be.

I traced the lip of my coffee cup. “Do you have a partner?”

“You mean like a boyfriend?” She snorted as she giggled, covered her mouth, and then stared at me with a terrified look. She snorted again as she giggled, dropping her scone on the plate in front of her, causing crumbs to explode across the table.

I chuckled sheepishly. “Uh, is that too personal?”

“No, it’s just—” She covered her mouth as she coughed through another giggle fit. When she reached for the water bottle, she knocked it over, sending water flying toward my coffee cup.

All I could do was stare at the minefield that the table had become. Crumbs and liquid were everywhere. Muddy dropletstrickled out of my plastic cup as I reached up to wipe my cheek that had taken some splash damage.

Anita looked absolutely horrified. Her lips tightened to a flat line as she cautiously stood up and trudged over to the snack table behind me. A moment later, she returned with a roll of paper towels. I chortled while standing to give her a hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered mournfully. “I’m so—ugh, I’m such a mess sometimes.”

“Aren’t we all?”

She gave me a weak smile after cleaning the table. I wiped my cup and the space beneath it. The mess wasn’t terrible. It certainly could have been worse.

I crumpled up the used paper towel and tossed it into a nearby bin. “Wanna tell me what’s so funny about me asking if you have a boyfriend?”

“I guess I just…” She folded the towel into neat squares. “I just thought it was funny because I don’t think any of my ex-boyfriends would have liked me doing this.”

“That’s a good reason to do something.”

She smirked. “You think so?”

“Sure. I do shit all the time that people don’t like.”

Her playful shock made me cross my arms over my chest. Heat rushed to my face as I struggled with words.

I never did this. I never stammered. But around her, it came easily. “I mean—you know—it’s just that—my sister is the worst.”

“Is that so?”

“I prank her every now and then.”

She lifted her trim brows. “Like what?”

“I replaced her throwing knives with rubber ones.”

“I’m sorry. Did you just saythrowing knives?”

I stared at the ground. “I sure did.”

“That sounds incredible.”

My gaze shifted to her, noticing the sparks in her eyes that seemed like drops of gold in her irises. “Really?”

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