4. Nick
CHAPTER FOUR
NICK
Isabella surprises me.
Most—if not all—people are intimidated by me, at least initially. Something about being in front of a six-foot-seven werewolf is a little hard to wrap your head around.
But not her. She wasn’t necessarily trusting, but she wasn’t intimidated. She further proved this by challenging me to a contest for her submission.
As her mate, my instincts scream at me to protect her, to care for her, to make it so that she doesn’t lift a finger. But having to actually work for it? Something about that makes her ultimate submission all the sweeter.
I carry our breakfast toward the table she picked. She couldn’t know that she chose my favorite place to sit and plan out my week each Monday morning. A frisson of warmth blooms in my chest.
Could we really be perfect for each other?
I place her tea and scone down in front of her, and the genuine smile I receive in thanks threatens to unravel every single plan I have. Demands I say to hell with slow and professional and throw myself at her feet.
“Alright, boss.” Her eyelashes flutter. “Please tell me the mayor told you more than he told me.”
Her calling me boss like that—in her slightly flirtatious, sugary sweet tone—makes me barely notice her pulling out a notebook and pen from her bag.
I take a deep sip of my black coffee to clear my head. I should keep things as professional as possible since she’s here to work. Be the man she needs right now. Not the wolf she’ll need later.
“Unfortunately, no. Other than that, he wants me to build the stage for whatever musical act you end up finding. But I’m happy to get started on that.”
She looks up from her notes with an irresistible nose wrinkle, the page covered in neat, swirling script. “Well, at least there’s that. He also mentioned you know how to run electrical?”
“Yep, I’ve got it covered. You can also tell vendors that if they don’t have their own setup, I can build them a small booth.” I lean in for another whiff of her sweet cinnamon scent.
Her eyes, the color of a forest canopy, regard me, open and trusting. “Thank you, Nick.”
I nod. “I’m happy to help, Izzy. You got the rest of this?”
A blush blooms high on her cheekbones, but she keeps my gaze and doesn’t back down.
Good girl.
“I absolutely do. I’ll wait for the vendor info from the mayor, but I’ll probably spend the rest of today running around town and seeing who’s who.” The gears turning in her head are almost audible. She’s a problem-solver. Intelligent.
What a lucky fucking man I am.
I lean back in my chair. “No better way to get to know Lunamois than to be thrown straight into the fire of planning a party for it in three weeks.”
She shrugs and raises an eyebrow, which gets a laugh from me.
This is easy, being with her. My parents, and the few other bonded couples I’ve talked to, talk about the ease, the instant ability to just be together. I thought I knew what to expect, but it’s true what they say—you don’t really know until you’re in it.
I take another sip of coffee. “I gotta ask—what had you coming out here to Lunamois? I’m sure you could get an event planning job anywhere else.”
I may love this town, but it’s so small it’s barely on a map. I don’t think many people have heard of it. This is a big reason why it was founded in the first place: to stay small and quiet, and accepting of those who are just a little bit different.
She tilts her head, brown hair cascading off her shoulders like water. “Full truth?”
“Full truth.”
“Most of the time, I feel like some adrift branch in a river. I’m just kind of...
existing and going whichever way the water takes me.
Then this job popped up, and I admittedly did a little research.
” Her cheeks turn that delicious shade of pink again as she sheepishly tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I liked how quiet it seemed here. How picturesque. And maybe I’m hoping that I’ll finally find what I’m looking for. ”
“Hell yeah, Izzy.” Pride radiates from every syllable. I’m so fucking proud of her for continuing to try. She knows she hasn’t found what she needs, and she hasn’t given up. So many wouldn’t have the bravery. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”
She laughs, the sound enveloping me in warmth and a hint of cinnamon sweetness. “You’re already doing far too much for the event. But I promise if something comes up, I’ll let you know.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. It’s almost too soft to hear, but I do. She’s almost surprised, and I can’t help but wonder why. Why is she surprised that someone would want to help her?
I’d already give her anything she wanted.
“Speaking of helping!” She clears her throat, straightening her back, then points at my iPad. “What in the world is that?”
I look down at it. I pulled it out while we were talking to try to carve out some time in my schedule. “Uh, my calendar?”
She scoffs, holding out her hand. I hand the tablet to her, letting her change the subject for now.
Peeling back Izzy’s layers is going to take a while. There’s a life there—a life I haven’t been part of—that has left its own scars and marks on her, and her perceptions of others. Earning her vulnerability and trust will be a process that only comes with time. And proof.
Luckily for Izzy, I have all the time in the world. So long as that time is spent with her, I have nothing else that could be more important.
“It’s entirely overrun! And it’s not even color-coded.” She runs a hand through her hair in frustration. “I’m helping you with this.”
Amusement bubbles in my chest. “You really don’t need to—” her glare cuts me off. “Okay, so yeah, I could use some help with scheduling. I have difficulties saying no to people when they call.” An understatement, especially if you ask Georgie, my childhood best friend and owner of Tea Leaves.
She’s been my sister since we were kids in everything but blood. She’s also staring a hole in my back from the counter, but I ignore it.
“A bit of a bleeding heart, hmm?”
“You try saying ‘no, I don’t have time today’ to little old Mrs. Clerk when she begs you to help rescue her cat from a tree.”
She giggles. “I thought you were a handyman.”
I sigh. “I’m whatever Lunamois needs me to be. Handyman, event co-planner, cat rescuer…”
“I guess I was right about that bleeding heart,” she says, but not in the mocking way I would’ve expected. If anything, there’s a bit of appreciation there.
“A little?”
I’m quickly becoming addicted to the sound of her laughter. To the almost windchime-esque tones and flirtatious lilt. I may make it my personal mission to make this woman laugh as much as I possibly can.
I lean in once more, watching her pupils dilate at my proximity. “You’re going to have your hands full with this festival and keeping me from saving every kitten in town.”
And hopefully, I have my hands full of her.