8. Nick
CHAPTER EIGHT
NICK
Something is wrong with Izzy.
I caught a whiff of faint embarrassment—tangled with attraction—initially as I walked away from her, but it slowly soured into something I don’t recognize. Something wrong.
Without even collecting our orders, I stride to her side—my only thoughts about how my mate needs me.
Her gaze lifts from where she was staring at her notebook, cheeks again bright red, and I squat down so I’m eye-level with her.
She gasps quietly, as if she never expected me to get this close. But I can’t help it.
“Are you okay, Izzy?” I whisper into the small space between us. Her normally perfect cinnamon vanilla scent is almost burnt, like someone left a pumpkin spice cookie in the oven for too long.
Her eyebrows raise. “I’m…yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t smell fine.
“Did someone say something?” I continue. “Or did you get some bad news?”
She flushes an even deeper red, something I hadn’t even realized was possible. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m just being weird, boss.”
Until now, I’ve found it cute when she calls me ‘boss’, but this? It’s like she’s trying to create distance. A separation. Make us…co-workers. I said I’d remain professional, but it churns like poison in my gut. It’s wrong.
But what can I do if she won’t tell me?
I put my hand on hers, where it rests on the armrest of her chair. “Okay.”
“Hey, Dummy!” Georgie calls from behind the counter. “Stop flirting with the cute event planner and grab your shit!”
With a playful growl, I roll my eyes and stand, stretching toward the ceiling.
I exhale and look down at Izzy, her eyes slightly bugging out.
“Don’t worry about Georgie. She’s a little shit who loves to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong,” I say.
A little breath escapes her. “Right. Makes sense.”
And then the puzzle pieces click into place. Was Izzy… jealous? Pride threatens to fill my chest to bursting. My woman—my mate—was jealous of the easy rapport I have with someone else. Someone she could see as a rival.
I revel in this realization. I revel in her claim on me. I revel in the level of possession she must feel.
When I finally take Izzy, finally cement our bond, I’ll have her bite, scratch, and mark every inch of me just to let everyone know I’m hers.
“By the way…” I lean back down to whisper in her ear. “Georgie is more likely to flirt with you than me, and I’d be jealous as fuck if she did.”
Her arousal blooms like a rose, filling my nose. It takes everything in me to stand straight and walk to the counter.
I don’t want to scare her, but goddamn, she doesn’t even realize how much her body calls to me. Sings to me.
“She smells good,” Georgie whispers as I pick up our order.
The dark, possessive growl that rips from me is primal. Georgie takes an involuntary step back.
Shit.
“That was unintentional,” I say to her through gritted teeth. My mouth won’t let me form anything closer to an apology. Not when it comes to someone showing even a passing interest in the scent of my mate.
She nods, not moving from her new spot, eyes wider than usual. “I should know better than to tease a wolf about his unbonded mate. I just haven’t seen a new mate bond in so long.”
Neither have I. It’s rare enough on its own, but isolated as we are in Lunamois from other supernaturals... it makes it all the more difficult.
I’ve certainly never acted that way toward Georgie in the twenty-plus years we’ve known each other. I’ll have to make it up to her at some point.
I give her a strained smile and head back to Izzy. Izzy, who is trying desperately to pretend she’s working and not covered in an almost tangible state of arousal. It’d be almost believable if I couldn’t smell it on her. She’s a decent actress, it seems.
“Your breakfast treats.” I place her order before her and sweep into a deep bow. The sexual tension is thick as butter, and if I don’t cut it, I’m going to give in.
Her musical, wind-chime laughter softens the room. “Why, thank you, boss.”
“Anything for the woman who single-handedly color-coded my entire life.”
She smiles back confidently as I settle into my seat opposite her. She’s sure of her abilities—in this, at least.
“Color-coding makes everything better. As your new temporary assistant, I need your work phone forwarded to my cell so I can utilize this lovely system I’ve put together for you.”
As much as I enjoy earning her submission, a bossy Izzy is almost irresistible. I can just imagine her barking orders as I work to obey her every whim. I pinch my outer thigh roughly, pulling myself out of my own imagination. I know exactly where it could lead, and Izzy and I aren’t there yet.
“I’ll do that, but I don’t remember hiring you.”
She glares at me until I break into a smile.
“Also, most people just call my personal cell.”
She sighs heavily. “Well, that is wildly unhelpful. Can you tell them to start calling your work number so I can handle it?”
“Ask me nicely and I’ll try.”
“No.”
God, I love the way she doesn’t shrink into herself. She’s strong and confident, and even when she’s not, she’s still undeniably Izzy.
“Fine, you’ve convinced me.” I lean back in the armchair, unable to help my gaze from sweeping down her form. The way she’s wrapped in those jeans should be fucking illegal. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
I’m rewarded with yet another light flush of her cheeks. “Good.” She clears her throat. “Now, we need to talk about the festival.”
“What do you need from me?” Event planning isn’t my thing, and to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever planned a birthday party before. But I want to be helpful. I want to show her that someone in this town has her back.
She pulls out her laptop, leaning over in a way that further highlights the supple curves of her body. “I have most of the vendors lined up, actually, thanks to Clover. I just need to schedule some time for you to build out the stage and some of the booths.”
I chuckle at Clover’s name. The old woman is a talented seer, but tends to go overboard with visitors and those new to town. It’s more fun for her than messing with the locals, who are used to her antics.
“Sounds good,” I finally reply once she snaps her forest-green gaze back up to mine. “I’m happy to help out in any other way you need, too. You just need to ask.”
Her returning smile is genuine. It reaches up to her eyes and crinkles the corners just a tad.
It’s a smile I could easily fall in love with.
“Actually…” She smirks. “How good are you with a paintbrush?”