A Wolf After My Own Heart MaryJanice Davidson (children's ebooks online .txt) 📖

enormous pride in her self-sufficiency who was wary of cops.

Or the short version: she planted basil and dill.

He caught her fist before she could thump him again, held it gently. “Thank you for telling me this, Lila.”

“Thanks for being horrified, but only on my behalf.” Her gaze slid away. “I was wondering how you’d take the news that you’re squatting with a firebug.”

“You’re not a firebug.” Then: “Squatting?”

“Again: I never invited you. Just the others. Ergo, you’re a squatter.”

He carefully unclenched her fingers and held her hand. She let him. She was staring owlishly at their entwined fingers, but she wasn’t reaching for a weapon, which he took as an encouraging sign.

“Lila? What are we doing?”

“You’re asking me?” She was still staring at their entwined fingers. “Whatever this is, it’s terrifying.”

“This scares you?” He almost laughed. “Not the fire or the Shifters or plane crashes that may or may not have been engineered? Romance is the real danger?” Romance might be a strong word. Mutual like-liking?

She met his gaze. “It never works out for me. Not once. They’re too weird, or I am. They don’t get me, or I don’t care about them. And I never stay. Sometimes it’s a race to see who lunges for the door first.”

“Then you’ve only ever been with absolute morons who didn’t deserve you.”

“Careful. You might end up on that list.”

He laughed, which was when she leaned in and kissed him. And it was a fucking lovely kiss; she tasted like rum and Coke and Lila, and he clenched his fists so he wouldn’t grab her tight, tighter, and even before their second kiss was finished, Oz was already wondering when they’d have their third. And ninth. And thousandth.

And then she pulled back. Teasing and flirting one minute, distant the next. That far, no farther. Which was just as well. The kiss had caught him by surprise. He couldn’t in good conscience allow another one until she’d sobered up. Which would take sooooo fucking loooong. Not for the first time, he thought a Stable metabolism must be a huge pain in the ass.

“Sorry, Oz. I don’t fuck on the first date. Or the second—if that’s what this is. I still haven’t decided if the distraction lunch counts as a date.” Then, anticipating his unspoken question, she added: “The seventeenth date. That’s when I go for broke.”

He laughed. “I wasn’t looking for a fuck.” Wouldn’t say no to more kisses, though. Later. “But thanks for the heads-up.”

“I really like you. Even in the beginning when you were just some thug I had to throw into my basement.”

“Not to sound corny, but that’s when I fell in love with you. Well, no. I think I fell for you when you almost ran me over in your ambulance-that-isn’t that first night.”

She giggled. “Love? Ha! You’re funny.”

“Thank you for showing me this.” He gestured to the auditorium. “I’d love to come back. Anytime you say.”

“It’s a date. Or whatever we’re going to call it. I gotta pee. And we should probably get going.”

“Only when you’re ready.”

“I won’t be. Not for a couple more days.” She met his gaze again, took his hand again. There was an expression on her face he couldn’t name at first, because he’d never thought to see it there: vulnerability. “It smells like smoke now. My lovely new-old house. Even when it doesn’t.”

“I can fix that.”

“Really?” Instant perk-up. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Still gotta pee, though.”

“Well, one thing at a time.”

Chapter 37

After snoring all the way to Lilydale, Lila was

“Five mmrrr minutes.”

disinclined to move under her own power. So he slung her tote (full of empty bottles thudding against the near-empty thermos) over his shoulder, got the passenger door open, unbuckled her, scooped her up

“Your car’s gotta elevator? Cool.”

kicked the car door closed, and started up the sidewalk. Mama Mac must have heard him pull in, because by the time he got to the kitchen door she was holding it open for him.

“The lady likes rum,” she said, smiling at them both.

“The lady fugging—fucking—loves rummmmm,” Lila slurred, snuggling into Oz’s chest. “Sorry ’bout the fucking.”

Mama’s eyebrows arched, and Oz rushed to fill the gap: “Not actual fucking. That’s not what we—it was a movie. In a palace! And Cokes with a tiny bit of alcohol, but no fucking. She’s apologizing for the swearing.”

“I gathered, Oz. One of these days when you fall over yourself explaining the obvious, you’re gonna have a nervous breakdown.” Mama went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, came back, dropped it in Lila’s tote.

“Thanks, Mama.”

“No problem, m’boy. Get to bed, it’s late.”

“You, too.”

“By and by,” she replied, and he knew she was staying up to check on the cubs a few more times. She stroked Lila’s curls away from her forehead. “Good night, darling.”

“Yr chili wuz good.”

“Thank you.”

Up, up, up the stairs, where Lila’s bedroom door was open, thank God. He carefully laid her on the bed, and while he set the bottle of water on her nightstand, she yawned and sat up, fumbling with her turtleneck.

“Ugh, it’s a million billion degrees in here. How can you stand it? I can’t mmmf mmffff mmmelp!”

He hastily moved and helped her pull her sweater off, revealing a navy-blue tank top. “There you go, hon.”

“You saved me! Don’t call me hon. Makes me think of Attila.”

“Got it. I…oh, Jesus. Lila.” He stared at her, saw—and felt—the burn scars; there was plenty of light from the hallway. He gently grasped her hands and turned them wrists up and saw the patches of burn scars on the tender underside of her arms, too. Her hands were surprisingly clear, except the underside of one palm. “You said you weren’t hurt.”

“Said I was barely hurt. Which is mathematically fac…factshul…true. Eleven percent burns is barely cuz thirteen isn’t sixty or eighty or ninety-five. It’s not as good as zero percent, though, which is what my mom got.”

“Lila…” He held her wrists and stroked the scars he could reach. How had he not noticed this when she was in