Chapter 21
RODERICK
My eyes ache as I continue to stare at my computer screen, trying to focus on the order form in front of me. This back-end part of my job is not what I enjoy. I want to be out of my office, picking apart wires, figuring out what makes things tick.
But I need supplies to do that.
The open window lets in some fresh air, but even that taunts me with the fact that I have to stay inside my office.
Still, my mild irritation with the less appealing parts of being an electrician pale in comparison to the shitty side to being a pack alpha.
I exiled my own mother.
Guilt gnaws at my gut.
It was the right thing to do.
I still believe that, even days later. There’s no doubt clinging to my decision. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wish anyone else could have been the one to enforce it.
At the same time, there’s no one else I’d feel comfortable passing this burden of responsibility to.
I rub my hands over my face in a rough gesture that has my beard growth scraping along my palms. That sensation is one more reminder of how off I feel. Normally, I keep both my face and my head cleanly shaved.
Maybe after so long, this job is finally getting to me. Maybe I’m not getting better at caring for the wolves of Pine Falls.
Maybe resentment has started to creep in.
This role has defined my entire adult life. Has demanded my unquestioning commitment. Has required me to put all the needs of those in my care above my own wants and needs.
On top of that, I got magically assigned this job while still grieving my father.
Never has the weight of responsibility felt heavier.
Can’t I for once make a selfish decision? Give myself something to ease the strain of this endless stretch of duty?
A knock sounds on my door, and it’s all I can do to keep from growling at the new arrival to go away.
To leave me alone in my melancholy. If this is some young wolf, bringing a stupid pack squabble to me only days after I had to oust the woman who had raised me, they might not make it out of this room in one piece.
I do not have the patience to deal with petty bullshit right now.
“Come in,” I bark. Maybe just my tone will have the visitor reconsidering.
But when the door cracks open, I’m hit with a delicious scent mixture of book pages and lemons, and I know my growly mood will have no effect on the intruder.
Weirdly, that knowledge puts me at ease.
Juliet marches into my office, a box in her hand and a determined pinch to her lips.
Mmm. Missed her.
“Roderick,” she says in greeting, flouncing up to my desk. “I’m not here to fight with you,” she declares.
Leaning back in my chair, I ignore my wolf’s happy rumblings and allow my gaze to trail over the sassy librarian.
Like always, she’s too tempting to be allowed in public.
Juliet has on some silly high-waisted dress pants that do too much for her ass and heels that would put her mouth in a much more convenient position for kissing if I stood next to her.
Also, I need to stop thinking about her height in relation to ease of making out.
Don’t stop. Kissing is good. Licking is better.
I suck in a deep inhale at the thought of dragging my tongue over her tart-smelling skin.
Too gods-damn tempting.
Instead of answering the librarian’s declaration, I give a silent nod, letting her take that to mean whatever she wants.
Juliet takes it as an invitation to plop the box she’s cradling down on my desk. The container isn’t airtight, so I can easily smell the delicious tang of lemon and butter scents from within. Sitting on the top of the box is an envelope with my name neatly spelled out in a looping script.
Curious, I slip my thumb under the flap and tear, the noise overly loud in the quiet between us. Inside is a black card made of heavy stock, with tissue paper moon and stars on the outside. Inside, written in the same script, only this time with a reflective silver ink, are six words.
Dear Roderick,
I am sorry.
—Juliet
I lift my eyes to find her watching me. At my raised eyebrow, she sighs.
“It’s a lemon cream pie. I am here to apologize.” She points to the card, as if the meaning wasn’t clear. “My understanding is that in small towns”—she waves toward my open window, as if to indicate the whole town of Pine Falls—“I’m sorry should be accompanied by baked goods.”
She offers us food. She wishes to mate! my wolf howls in my head, instinctively reacting to the edible gift.
If Juliet were a werewolf, I would agree with my beast about her intentions.
But she’s a human. A human who dislikes me.
She doesn’t know the meaning behind this. Calm down.
She knows wolves. Knows how to court. She wants to mate!
I give my head a shake, as if I can rattle him out of my brain. Looking to focus on something else, I open the box and find a dessert that looks as good as it smells. “Why?”
She shrugs. “I’ve watched a lot of Hallmark movies.”
Romance.
“No,” I say to both correct her and to chastise my wolf. “Why are you apologizing?”
Juliet shoves her hands in her deep pockets and stares at a spot over my head. “You’re a grumbly asshole—”
“That’s how you apologize?”
“Shut up and let me finish!”
Why does that make me want to chuckle?
I think it’s how she snarls. Like a tiny kitten facing off against me, swiping little claws that can’t even draw blood.
I firm my jaw against a smirk and wave for her to continue. Juliet glares at the gesture, but then wipes the hostile emotion from her face before speaking again.
“You are a grumbly asshole, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you asked about werewolf knowledge.
I understand that you’re just trying to keep your people safe.
” She draws in a deep inhale, more of the tension easing from her shoulders as she exhales slowly.
“I also want to thank you for installing my security system. I know that’s not your normal job, so I appreciate the extra effort you put in. ”
As I consider how to respond, Juliet adds in one more comment.
“Plus, Courtney told me you’re dealing with some family drama.
And I’m sorry for that too.” Her gaze travels around my stark office, as if uncomfortable with meeting my eyes.
“Yeah, so … that’s it. I’m sorry, and I’m grateful.
And I hope you like the pie. I don’t bake too often, but I think it turned out well. ”
Without considering the consequences of my actions, I lift the pie from its box and tilt the pastry so I can examine the bottom through the glass plate.
“Excuse me.” Juliet’s voice turns overly sweet, which lets me know I’ve fucked up. “May I ask what you’re doing?”
Damn. Wrong move.
“Checking the crust.” No point in lying.
“Checking it for what?”
“If it’s cooked or soggy.”
She said she didn’t bake much, so I was simply curious.
Her mouth drops open, bobbing a couple of times before snapping shut. “Are you kidding me?”
Juliet steps up to my desk, grabs the pencil I’ve been using to take notes, holds the writing utensil in front of my nose, then snaps it in two.
The gesture is an odd combination of threatening and adorable.
Our mate is fierce.
But she’s not done.
“I just handed you a free pie, and you’re going Paul Hollywood on me?” An angry flush has her cheeks turning the same deep red shade as her hair. “This isn’t some baking competition, you ass!”
“I’ll still eat it,” I assure her.
Even if it tastes like sour milk, I’ll choke it down. I just like to know what I’m getting into.
“Oh no.” Juliet feigns concern. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’d hate for you to have to suffer through my soggy crust.”
A smart man would keep quiet. But I realize this back-and-forth is the first time I’ve had the urge to smile in a week. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I keep pushing.
“You wanted me to lie?” I should have. Gifts of food are never to be judged. I knew it was a mistake as I did it. I just can’t help riling her up.
“Of course I did! When someone brings you pastries, you’re supposed to say, Yummy. Delicious! And leave it at that!”
“I don’t say yummy. And I didn’t say it was bad.” Swiping my finger through the silky yellow mass, I pop the quick taste in my mouth. Tart and sweet. All-around perfect. “The filling is good.”
“Too late. You’ve ruined your chance at blindly complimenting me.” Juliet fists her hands, planting them on my desk. All the better to glare at me. “Do you accept my apology?”
The question sounds like a threat.
One of the hardest fights in my life occurs at this moment because all my mouth wants to do is grin at her.
But then she might shove the pointy end of the pencil she’s still gripping into my neck.
Instead, I opt for a stoic nod.
“And?” She growls the word at me, and I wonder if she might have a little wolf in her.
If not, I’d like to put it there.
Surprisingly, that sentiment was fully my own.
Dirty thoughts aside, I repeat her. “And?”
“And are you going to apologize to me?”
If I were thinking straight, I could probably come up with something. But as Juliet leans over my desk, the neck of her shirt hangs low, giving me a glimpse of her cleavage, nestled in a floral bra. My wolf silently whines with want.
“For what?” I murmur, distracted by what she might taste like if I drew my tongue up the little valley between her breasts. Would she be sweet, tart, or a perfect mixture of the two, just like her pie?
The view disappears, and I blink to clear my mind, finding the librarian delivering another withering scowl.
“Maybe by the time you’re done eating my subpar pie, you’ll figure it out!”
To emphasize her fury, she chucks the pencil pieces out the open window before stalking out of my office. The door rattles on its hinges when she slams it shut behind her.
With her gone, I sit in silence for a minute or two, reliving every word she spoke to me. By the end of the replay, I’ve accepted a fact I’ve been avoiding for months.
I want Juliet Adair, and the craving isn’t going away.
Rummaging through one of my desk drawers, I come up with a fork. Before the first bite even enters my mouth, I can feel myself grinning.
Because finally, I’m feeling selfish enough to claim what I want.