Chapter 23
My brain was going to melt out of my goddamn ears. She was unfairly beautiful. Just fucking perfection. And she was at my house. I had to remind myself to breathe, to channel all of my willpower into not crushing her to me immediately, maybe dragging her to the bedroom where I could huff her scent like paint beneath the blankets.
Allie had been so raw when she had first come to me —unpainted and unprepared, sweet, eager, and perfect as she was—but she was equally stunning like this and my brain swooped into thoughts of those red lips wrapped around my?—
I pushed away the thought of her on her knees and stepped properly aside to let her in, a cloud of honeysuckle in her wake, and my gaze following her helplessly.
Thank god for tight jeans.
“Holy shit, it smells good in here.” She inhaled deeply. “Are you baking?”
“I might have been.” I grinned. “There’s cake for dessert. Or as an appetizer if you prefer.”
Delight flashed in her eyes. “God, you’re such a charmer.” She laughed and playfully whacked me on the arm. “Baking me a cake. How are you real?”
I could’ve asked her the same. I still couldn’t quite believe she was here. “I’m a figment of your imagination.”
“If I didn’t have extremely vivid memories of how real you are, I’d be inclined to believe that.”
Heat rose up my spine at the memory of her spread out beneath me. The ginger notes of her scent slipped through the honeysuckle. I couldn’t tell if it was her responding to me because she was attracted to me or if it was just her omega side responding to what was probably an embarrassingly obvious alpha reaction.
She unzipped her boots and set them aside, looking at me expectantly.
“I’ll take your coat,” I offered.
Her jacket slid down her arms and revealed a red shirt that highlighted her curves and lean muscle. I didn’t remember her having those muscles before. Unwrapping her like a present was going to be a treat if there were all these new secret elements to discover… assuming she wanted to be unwrapped, that is. I hadn’t asked that part yet, but her being in my house was a good start.
My mind ran a mile a minute, struggling with a surge of memories that clashed with the reality of her standing before me. Her honeysuckle and ginger made it hard to think, and I wanted nothing more than to bury my face against her skin and breathe it for the rest of eternity.
“Do I get a grand tour—” Her voice interrupted my ogling. “—or are we hanging out in the foyer?”
What was the matter with me? I was supposed to be the cool one in these situations but she kept shutting off my brain.
“Sorry.” I took her coat from her and hung it up in the entryway closet. “I can show you all of it, but there might be something else you want to see first.”
As if on cue, a chorus of howls echoed.
Allie’s head turned toward the sound, gravitating to the closed door of the puppy room.
“They’re not great at letting themselves be a surprise.” I laughed and ushered her into the nursery.
Her gasp of excitement when she saw the pups wasn’t quite as satisfying as the ones I’d caused myself, but I was glad in either case.
“What are their names?” she asked.
“They’re all named after composers. The boys are Ludwig, Johann, Wolfgang, and Franz, and the girls are Kassia and Hildegard.”
Allie dropped to her knees in front of the pen, and I closed the nursery door behind us before unhooking the gate holding the pups at bay.
They swarmed, all battling to sit in Allie’s lap and lick her face at the same time. Her laughter was music as she lay down, letting herself be utterly overwhelmed. I sat down to join her, but the puppies were far too occupied with our newcomer to pay me any mind.
My heart did some uncomfortable flips as I watched her absolute delight.
“Oh god, I got a foot in my mouth!”
I hoisted one of the pups off her face. She tried to sit up but was tackled back down by another. I snatched her flailing hand, pulling her upright, and she collapsed into giggles against me.
My heart stuttered. This was the most we had touched in years and my hands ached to grab her and not let go. The puppies still scrambled to be in her lap, and I scooped up a couple to put back into their massive pen.
“You’re a puppy jailer.” Allie pouted.
“I’ll let them out after dinner for some yard time, but I figured you’d want to eat first.”
“Okay, I’ll forgive puppy jailing since you’re being logical about it.”
Her hand was warm in mine as I helped her up, and she didn’t let go as I led her into the kitchen. I deliberately avoided looking at her so I didn’t trip on the way, though it was difficult to do since all of my senses were honed in on her.
“Do you want help with dinner?” she asked. “I peel a mean vegetable.”
I snorted. “Sure. You can be my sous chef.”
“Roger that.” She beamed at me. “Give me a task, and I’ll make you proud.”
That only reminded me of how eager she was for praise. She’d drunk up those words of affirmation during her heat, but it was dangerous for me to think about that when I was about to have a knife in my hand.
I shook my head with a laugh. “I’ll let you wash the potatoes to start.”
I dug a handful of them out of the pantry and set them in the sink for her to wash.
“How long have you been out of the nest?” I asked.
“Bit over a year now. I moved into a new apartment a few blocks from here last week.”
“Ah, that explains it,” I said. “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you at the store before now.”
“Maybe I’m a ninja,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “I still need to do a big shop. I’ve been grabbing frozen dinners while I get settled, so I am very excited for a real, home-cooked meal.”
That statement soothed my alpha instincts, the need to provide and care for her. “Well, hopefully I don’t disappoint.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.” She hip-checked me and held up a potato. “Give me something sharp to slice these bad boys.”
I passed her the chef knife from my knife block and fished a cutting board out from the lower cupboard. “You can cut them into chunks. I figured grilled potatoes go pretty great with steak.”
“Goddamn, I’m going to have to marry you.” She laughed. “Cake and steak? You’re spoiling me so much tonight, and I didn’t even do anything to deserve it.”
I should definitely not be taking those words seriously. It was ludicrous to even contemplate taking I’m going to have to marry you as a remotely earnest statement. There wasn’t time to psychoanalyze my thoughts about it so instead I forced out a laugh and dropped my arm over her shoulders.
“Being cute as fuck is more than enough to deserve a nice dinner.”
She was so warm. Touching her was a mistake. Desire thrummed through me, and I took a deliberate step away, turning to the fridge to pull out the steaks I had marinating as an excuse to not look at her. When I turned back, she was focused on chopping the potatoes. Her shoulders were slightly drooped and guilt swelled in my chest. I shouldn’t be weird with her. It was my own fault that I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Tonight was my one chance and I couldn’t let my own mixed-up feelings about everything get in our way. Obviously she liked me enough to ask to see me, and she had continued to ask for me for her heats over the years, so I knew something was there to build on. It didn’t make this any less nerve-racking. If I fucked up tonight, would I just be haunted by her for the rest of my life?
Some questions were better left unanswered.