Молли Харпер - How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf

I sat down on the steps and stroked his fur. “Look, I get it, you’re sorry. Would you please change back into a man so we can talk about this like grown-ups? I promise I won’t hit you again.”

Cooper shifted and wrapped his arm around me. “I’m sorry. I should have said that first. I’m so sorry I left you. I thought I could handle it. I knew that biting you that first time, marking you, meant that I could never mate with anyone else—”

“What?” I demanded.

He shrugged. “That’s how it works with us. Once we mark our partners, that’s it. It’s more magic than science, but after we mark the one we choose, our DNA won’t mix with anyone else’s. Wolves mate for life.”

“You walked away from me, knowing you might never have kids? That you’d never find someone else?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

I slapped at his shoulder. “Jackass.”

He pulled me close. “I love you. I can’t stay away from you. I don’t care if that makes me selfish. You make me happy. You’re the only spot in my life that makes sense right now. Even without the baby, I would still feel that way. And until I know for sure what’s happening, until I find out whether I’m the one hurting people—”

“You’re not,” I told him sternly, holding his chin to make him meet my gaze.

He nodded, but I could tell he was just placating me. “Until I know for sure, one way or the other, you’re stuck with me.”

I conceded, “I know you were just doing what you thought was right. Your heart was in the right place, even if your head was up your ass.”

“I hope the baby has your special way with words.” He sighed.

“Good.” I wrapped my arms around him, as if I could make him keep his promise by just holding him there. I nuzzled his neck. “So, um, when was the last time you had a shower? Ballpark guess?”

“I don’t know. I rolled around in a creek about a week ago.” He shrugged. When I wrinkled my nose, he was indignant. “I was running around in wolf form, beating the hell out of myself, and wallowing in misery. I wasn’t at a damned spa.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I love you in spite of your pungent manliness.”

“Well, now you’re just patronizing me,” he grumbled. I laughed. His stomach growled loudly.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I stepped over the flowers into the house. “How about I fix pancakes and you take a shower?”

“It depends. Is this a trick to make me lower my guard so you can punch me again?”

“I slapped you, I didn’t punch!”

“I’m sorry if my bruised skull can’t tell the difference.”

COOPER STEPPED OUT of the shower looking far more chipper than I’d ever seen him. And the mammoth pile of pancakes waiting for him only improved his mood. I sat beside him at the counter while he chewed thoughtfully, obviously trying to choose the right words. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but why did I smell Alan here?”

“You’re right,” I told him softly. “You don’t have the right to ask that.”

“Mo.”

“Alan was here. Nothing happened,” I told him, knowing that a heavily edited version of my evening with Alan would be best for everyone. Cooper might not get angry with me, but he probably wouldn’t grant the same courtesy to Alan. The last thing I needed was for Cooper to be arrested for tearing the head off a federal official in the middle of Main Street. “He made it pretty clear how he felt, but I told him that he was just a friend to me. I’m not going to say I didn’t consider being with him, just to get you out of my system. To hurt you back. But when it came down to it, I just couldn’t. There’s no getting you out of my system, Cooper. You’re there to stay.”

A relieved, grateful smile broke over Cooper’s face. “I bet Alan didn’t take that well.”

“Actually, other than insulting you, he was a gentleman about it. Unlike a certain smug werewolf who gave me a permanent hickey to mark his territory. And peed on my doorstep—which you will be hosing off, by the way.”

Around a mouthful of pancake, he muttered, “Yes, yes, I am Alan’s emotional inferior. I’m sure that will keep him warm at night.”

“Now, that’s plain mean.”

IF ANYONE COMMENTED ON Cooper’s sudden return to Grundy, they didn’t do it in front of me. It was obvious that we’d reconciled. He was back in the saloon every morning, keeping a quiet, careful watch over me and his impending pup. He’d swoop in and pick up any object heavier than ten pounds if I tried to lift it. He made me take regular breaks to get off my feet and growled at anyone who spoke to me in anything but the sweetest of tones. When he tried to talk Evie into cutting my hours at work, we both told him to mind his own business. Seriously, there are limits.

I was back in the kitchen, cheerful, productive, talkative. It was as if my friends stopped holding their breath around me. Conversation was normal. The banter was back. I think they were so glad to see the old Mo that they didn’t have it in their hearts to rib me about it. Lynette, however, was even more sour than usual.

Nate Gogan drew up the papers for me to purchase the house. It was the first place I’d really considered my own home. I couldn’t imagine raising the baby anywhere else. I thought he was going to cry when I signed them. When I called to inform Kara that I was a homeowner, she was a little sad but started making plans for a visit within the next month, while it was still warm. I think she’d been holding out for me to come home, but it felt good to have made a decision, to know that I was a permanent resident of Grundy, Alaska.

Cooper and I were slowly moving to a more permanent arrangement. He gave up the lease on his place and moved his stuff into my cabin. He put a picture of Gracie, Samson, and Pops on the mantel. He made a little nursery by screening in a corner of our room, although we knew we would eventually have to add on another bedroom. The house was a little crowded and more than a little “sporty,” but it was nice feeling that he had a stake in the place.

And miracle of miracles, he actually asked me out on a date, having realized that we’d known each other for almost a year and were expecting a baby in a few months but had never actually left the house for a meal. So there I was, one glorious Thursday morning, standing in front of my side of the closet, trying to find something to wear to dinner that Friday. And Cooper came out of the bathroom, pulling up his camouflage overalls.

“That doesn’t look like fine-dining attire,” I said, arching my eyebrow as I sipped my ginger tea. “Your outfit definitely won’t go with this dress.”

I held up a little blue number that he’d admired on several occasions, even though I knew it would be a miracle if I fit into it anymore. My jeans were feeling pretty tight these days. I would be bidding my precious La Perla a fond farewell soon. Eventually, we were going to have to tell everybody we were pregnant. I had only so many forgiving sweatshirts I could wear to work.

Cooper groaned at the sight of the dress. “You’re killing me, woman. I just got a last-minute call from one of my regulars,” he said.

“Which makes you sound like a hooker.”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “This guy wants to take some clients fishing down at the Snake River. It’s some stupid spontaneous bonding thing he thinks can prevent economic disaster. He’s one of my steady clients, and he’s a grudge holder. If I turn him down once, he’ll blab to all his buddies that I’m an asshole and they should take their business elsewhere. With the season coming up . . .”