Chapter 5 Jax
Jax
The whole way back to the house, Dakota insisted he could walk on his own. No doubt he could, or at the very least, we could shift back to four legs.
There was just something nice about carrying him, though—the warmth of his body against my chest, the soft tickle of his silky black hair when he let his head roll against my shoulder.
I felt better with him in my arms, and while there weren’t many drawbacks to being a wolf, a lack of hands was one of them.
We got back, and the first thing on the agenda was to scrub the dirt from our skin. We managed that, and a fair bit of touching besides, before we found our way to the kitchen.
I didn’t often have the chance to cook back in San Francisco, but everybody from our original pack knew enough to get by. It wasn’t like they had DoorDash in the middle of nowhere when we were growing up.
I’d always liked cooking. When we had enough, it soothed my instincts to think I could provide for my pack. If I did it well and made them happy? The wolf inside preened.
With a gorgeous kitchen, a fridge stocked to the brim, and nothing at all to do but look after my mate, I was all too happy to dig into the options.
That was how I wound up in nothing but shorts, glaring into the fridge, when Dakota wandered up beside me.
“What’s wrong?” When he looked up at me, he set his chin against my arm, and I shifted to wrap it around him.
“I want to make steak and eggs.”
He looked over the contents of the fridge, that was indeed stocked with beef and plenty of eggs. His brow arched at all the offerings. “Seems doable.”
“I feel like I should use a marinade for the meat. Something to give it a little extra flavor.”
“Okay?”
I rubbed his far arm. “I’m not sure what to use.”
“Oh.” With hardly a thought, Dakota reached out, plucked up a bottle with a label I couldn’t read, and pressed it into my free hand. “There ya go.”
I opened the bottle and sniffed. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Almost citrusy beneath the savory tang.
“You like?” Dakota asked.
“I do. What is it?”
“Ponzu sauce. We can make it at home, no problem.” He grinned at me proudly, and I couldn’t help but squeeze his waist to pull him closer.
“Let’s do that.”
Honestly, it was perfect. I let the meat sit in the sauce while I whisked eggs and made rice. Carbs never hurt a new werewolf, and clearly, I needed to get myself a rice cooker when we got home too.
Maybe a big one.
With the pack in mind, I might be on the hunt for an industrial-sized rice cooker. Surely such a thing existed.
Once I seared the thin-sliced steak, it sat, beautifully nestled between the rice and egg, and Dakota poured more sauce on top for both of us.
He’d made tea while I cooked and carried it over on a tray.
For a while, we were quiet, sitting on the floor around a low square table and plates almost overflowing with food.
He dug in eagerly. If I had to guess, he’d been hungrier than he realized.
After a run, I was usually stuck in the wild for longer, not consciously aware of everything I wanted or needed, but led by impulse and instinct.
If I was hungry, I was going to shove whatever was nearest at hand in my mouth and not think too hard about it.
I was happy to just sit with him, though if his family had been around, I wouldn’t have been bold enough to stretch out my leg and tap his thigh with the side of my foot.
“Hmm?” He looked up at me, and I realized he’d already eaten nine-tenths of his whole plate.
I laughed. “You hungry?”
He groaned. “Famished. We should make more in, I don’t know . . . half an hour.”
“Agreed. We should see if we can polish off the whole fridge. I want to see if your grandmother’s impressed or horrified.”
Dakota nodded, scooping up another large bite.
“Dakota?”
His head popped up again, and he hummed curiously.
“Do you want to stay longer?”
He crinkled his nose and took his time to chew his food.
“Or I can give you some space—”
Dakota scoffed, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “You are not leaving me here alone.”
Maybe it shouldn’t make me feel so good, that he considered me more a pillar of support than anybody else here. It wasn’t like I wanted him bereft of anything he needed.
But . . . well, it was nice to think I was doing good for him, even when all that I really managed was sticking by his side.
Despite myself, I smiled softly. “No,” I agreed, “I’m not. Never, unless you ask me to. I just wanted to make sure that you know there are options. We can spend all the time you need here.”
The pack was back in California, taking care of everything. I was glad they didn’t have any pressing need for me, as un-alpha-like as my appreciation was. I didn’t want their safety and security to hinge on me alone, as much as I wanted to provide for it.
Truth told, Jillian was the more capable of the pair of us.
Dakota was chewing his bottom lip, only because he’d finished his plate already, when he shook his head. “I don’t think—I mean . . . let’s go home on schedule. I don’t think I can process all of . . . everything? At least not on one trip. We can always come back?”
The way his voice lifted at the end, like he could ever be unsure that I’d give him anything I could, was sweet and made me want to blot any insecurities out at once.
Back when we’d been in Idaho, it would’ve been unthinkable for us to ever travel across an ocean. Now, it was a matter of money and the willingness to go on an absurdly long flight. For Dakota, I had plenty of both and more besides.
“Of course,” I promised, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Jillian and the others are more than capable of watching over Crescent when we come back. I have space and time for every part of you.”
Spots of pink appeared high on Dakota’s cheeks. Moon above, he had nice cheekbones. Everything about him was so goddamn pretty.
“You want to prove that?” he asked, glancing at me from beneath his dark lashes.
I shifted around on my floor seat, then grabbed the edge of his and pulled it closer to me. “You know, now that you mention it, I definitely, definitely do.”