Chapter 33
Honorable Intentions
TEDDY
“They taste better than they look.” I assure Sophie, spooning the scrambled eggs onto her plate, alongside three strips of extra crispy bacon and a slice of scorched toast. I hobble over to the kitchen table with my own plate and sit down across from her.
I’m still incredibly sore, but I have more energy today, which I attribute to my beautiful girlfriend, who heats my insides every time she gazes in my direction.
Right now Sophie is staring down at the eggs; she picks up her fork and pokes at them. “But they’re brown.”
“I know… just try them.” I scoop up a forkful and pop them in my mouth. “M-mm. So good.”
She takes a tentative bite and wrinkles her nose. “Did you scramble these eggs in bacon grease?”
I grin. “It’s my one-pot cooking method, which makes cleaning up so much easier.” I nod at her plate. “What do you think?”
“Well… um… I think this was very thoughtful.”
I start to laugh. “I guess brown eggs and black toast just aren’t your thing, eh?”
Sophie’s delectable lips curve upward. “Not really. Maybe we ought to stick to what we’re good at.
I can do all the baking and cooking, and you can do all the tidying and organizing—once you’re feeling better, of course.
” She takes a few more bites of egg to placate me, crunches on a piece of bacon, and skips the toast entirely; I wind up finishing her breakfast on top of mine.
It’s obvious to me Sophie is deeply disturbed by the vandalism at the bakery, because she keeps looking up at me and then away again, but she’s refused to talk about it since returning to the cottage.
I have a sneaking suspicion Sophie thinks she’s protecting me, but I refuse to be coddled—and if anyone is going to be doing the protecting, it’s going to be me watching over her.
“If you don’t tell me about the bakery, I’m going to shuffle down to the end of the driveway and see it for myself.”
Sophie pushes her plate away and hesitates, as if she’s gathering her strength.
Then she takes a steadying breath and describes the damage in detail.
When she tells me the red paint spatter inside the bakery looked like dried blood, the backs of my hands grow furry, my fingernails lengthen into points, and my canines sharpen inside my mouth.
Sophie pauses; when she speaks again, her voice is an octave higher. “Your wolf is showing again.”
“Sorry!” Inhaling sharply, I rein myself in, reversing the wolfishness. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not frightened of you… it’s just I’ve begun to realize your werewolf shows up when you’re more emotional… and I don’t want this situation with Rafe to upset you or take away our happiness.”
I reach across the table and wrap my hands around hers. “I won’t let Rafe destroy our happiness… or come anywhere near you.”
She glances down at our entwined hands, and when she looks back up, her eyes are glistening. “Just promise me you won’t let him hurt you again,” she whispers.
I bring her hands up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. The weight of her words sits on my chest; how can I promise what is out of my control? “I promise to keep him from hurting you any more than he already has.”
Sophie scowls, snatching her hands from mine. “That’s not what I want you to promise… and you know it!”
I want to lighten the mood and see her smiling again, so I say, “Tell me again about your grandmother’s Cat in the Hat magic.”
Sophie purses her lips. “I know what you’re trying to do, but I can’t be distracted that easily.”
“Oh, I can think of much better ways of distracting you.” I wink, but my puffy eye doesn’t cooperate.
Sophie reaches across the table to run her fingers gently over my bruised face. “I can’t bear to see you injured like this again.”
I rise from my chair, tugging Sophie toward me.
She resists, still unhappy I refuse to make promises I can’t keep, but when I whisper, “Please come closer,” she melts into my arms. We stand there a long time, Sophie nestled against my chest, holding each other.
I love this woman with a fierceness that’s painful… one more ache to add to all the rest.
I don’t want to be parted from Sophie again, even to return to my studio flat, but I’m an old-fashioned werewolf; I will not live permanently with my mate until we’re married.
I want to propose to Sophie, but I’d prefer to have a job lined up first so I can contribute to our finances; it’s going to take some time for a startup business, even for a bakery owned by someone as talented as Sophie, to begin turning a profit.
On the other hand, I need her to know this “mate bond thingy” as she calls it means I’m not going any farther away than Rob’s garage.
I glance down at my cuts and bruises. Even if I passed my initial exam at the fire station, I’m in no shape to participate in the physical training for another few weeks, putting me that much further behind on my goal to join the department.
I sigh, nuzzling my face in Sophie’s hair.
When she finally steps out of my embrace, I feel a momentary pang of loss and quickly remind myself she’s still here, standing right beside me.
She pauses, withdraws her phone from her back pocket, and gazes down at the display; the message must be a long one, because Sophie continues staring at it. My heart clenches as I consider the possibilities. “Is anything wrong?”
She glances up at me, slightly bemused. “Oh no… it’s just a very long text from Cassia. My family is coming over tonight for dinner—all of them.” She hands me her phone so I can read Cassia’s message.
“Hey, Sophie, I’m so sorry about the bakery!
I wanted to run over to help you with the cleanup, but we’re crazy busy, and your dad’s kitchen magic has gone kerflooey since he learned about the vandalism.
The eggs are coming out green; the ham has yellow spots, and the butter is blue.
The food tastes fine, and your mom says it’s perfectly safe to eat, but she’s been casting glamours all day to prevent the non-supers from freaking out.
“But it gets worse; Jake popped over to visit your dad in the kitchen… and the entire café heard your dad’s colorful Irish when Jake told him you and Teddy had a mate bond.
Uncle Nash likes Teddy, but he’s not well-versed in werewolf bonds, and he’s not happy Teddy is living with you while he heals.
“So heads up, cuz… your dad is making dinner for you and Teddy tonight, and he’s coming over with your mom. Aunt Phoebe wants me and Olivia to come as buffers, and she invited Jake for the same reason. Granny got wind of the family dinner and has invited herself. Expect us at five o’clock.”
“Should I be worried?” I hand Sophie her phone.
“I don’t know what to think,” she says. “My dad is normally super calm; I guess my mom’s illness, the vandalism at the bakery, and learning about our mate bond has rattled him to the core. Other than his beard, my father’s magic is always tightly regulated.”
“What’s up with his beard?”
“Dad’s beard grows really, really fast; he has to trim it every morning. But when he’s upset, it grows much faster. If he shows up tonight with a long beard, then he’s very unhappy.”
Rather than making me anxious, as Sophie probably expects, I smile at her. “This isn’t funny!” she exclaims. “Don’t you realize my dad’s going to give you the third degree?”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping Nash does… it’s time I tell him and the rest of your family how I feel about you.”
“Oh… I see.” Sophie seems surprised but pleased; she stands on her tiptoes and plants a feather-soft kiss on my lips. When I try to deepen the kiss she steps out of reach. “You need to take a nap, and I need to clear off the dining room table so we can eat there tonight.”
“I can help,” I offer, but Sophie notices me stifling a yawn.
She shakes her head. “You can go lie down; I’ve got this.”
“But tidying and organizing are my super skills.”
“No buts about it, Mr. Clean, you need your rest; besides, I have a plan.”
Sophie’s plan probably involves temporarily shifting everything from the dining table to the top of her bed, but I can see I won’t win this argument. I shamble into my bedroom, shift Zosia over so there’s room for me, and promptly doze off, dreaming of eggs the color of Sophie’s Greenest Green.
When I waken I’m surprised to see it’s past four; I slept the entire afternoon away.
Slowly, painfully, I rise from bed and proceed to change into something more appropriate to greet Sophie’s family than my gym shorts and tee.
After fifteen minutes of fumbling I’m finally dressed in clean khaki slacks and a yellow short-sleeved shirt, and I’ve run a comb through my hair, detangling the worst of the knots.
Peering into the mirror, I frown; there’s no way I can hide the gashes and purple bruises on my face and arms. Hopefully Nash doesn’t see this as evidence of weakness and conclude I’m incapable of taking care of his daughter.
I step out of my room in search of Sophie, but she’s easy to find; she’s in the bathroom with the door closed, belting out an old love ballad with all the gusto of a Broadway star.
Grinning at her off-key warbles, I cross the short hallway and push open the door to Sophie’s bedroom.
Sure enough, the contents of the dining room table are piled haphazardly on her bed and floor.
Zosia has followed me and now stands on the threshold, probably considering her sleeping arrangements for the evening.
When she screeches, “Wump!” and scurries away, I chuckle and close Sophie’s door.
She set the table with mismatched plates and mugs in a rainbow of colors, and antique flatware that probably came from a garage sale; the overall effect is kitschy and cute.
I gaze around the rest of the living-dining room combo and begin straightening up as best I can without straining my stitches.