Page 22 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“We want to see fabulous dancing, passion.” His gaze is on me and Trevor as if he expects that passion from us, but maybe I’m imagining that. “Most of all, we want to see everyone having fun. Yes, technical perfection is a goal, but life is short. Enjoy every moment of it.”

“Perfectly said, Carlo,” Brandon gushes with what I think he thinks is a sincere expression. This guy is so smarmy. I want to take a shower after being in his presence. As much as Ian being a host is a shock, I’m glad it’s not someone like Brandon. I know my brother will be kind and respectful. Trevor nudges my foot with his. I can hear the whoosh of breath with a hint of an “ugh” in it. It’s not only microphones we have to worry about catching what we say, we’re in a room full of shifters who can hear and see everything. We’ll practically have to read each other’s minds if we want to communicate without everyone knowing our business.

Our segment is over, and everyone’s backstage in the green room chatting and getting to know each other. I’m off to the side, like I usually am with crowds. It’s not that I’m shy, it’s just mentally overwhelming being around so many people with elevated emotions. People tease Declan about reading their minds. He can’t, but like me, he’s an empath. We’re observant and deeply feel the surrounding vibrations. Unlike Declan, I have to keep a shield around me to survive. My feelings are too tender. It makes me seem like an unfeeling bitch, and that hurts. I don’t know how to balance protecting myself and being open.

Ian brings me a bottle of water that I accept gratefully.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about the hosting gig. Ma didn’t know either. Are you okay with it?” He’s speaking quietly and in a deep brogue that won’t be easily understood by the casual listener.

“I’m happy for you. You know that. It will be nice to see each other every week.”

He hears everything I didn’t say. “We’ll talk about it later?”

“Aye.”

“So, Declan and Miranda?”

I sigh. “Aye.”

“Did we see that coming?” he asks.

“I didn’t,” I admit. “Did you?”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his orange juice. “He’s had a crush on her forever, but I didn’t know she felt the same way.”

Trevor joins us and hands me a chocolate donut. This is one of the things I like about America—chocolate donuts with brightly colored nonpareils on them. He calls them jimmies. I call them yummy and fun.

“They’re perfect for each other,” Trevor says.

Ian’s brow furrows like he doesn’t quite believe Trevor.

But Trevor’s unmovable in his certainty. “I’ve known Randi for six years. She’s one of my best friends. He’s my teammate. They live with me. He’s exactly the type of man I’d want for her.”

“Really?” Ian asks.

“We have a ton to catch up on, Ian,” I say. “But it looks like it’s time to get measured, so it’ll have to be another time.”

Costume fitters enter the green room and zero in on me and Trevor. I quickly finish eating my donut before they join us.

I stretch up to give Ian a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll catch up soon. Love you.”

His strong arm curves around me in a quick hug while his other reaches out to shake Trevor’s. “Love you too, Soph. Good luck, Trevor, with the dancing but also with this spitfire.”

“Thanks, Ian. It’s been great meeting you. Luck is already on my side, getting Sophie as my partner. I wouldn’t want to do this without her.”

I’m touched. And scared. I can’t let these feelings slip past my shield. While I’m willing to dance my heart out, I refuse to put it on a platter to be broken.

7

TREVOR

“They really liketo get up close and personal measuring for the costumes, don’t they?” I ask as I drive us from the airport back to Devil’s Den. It’s midafternoon, and we’ve been to New York City and back. I could learn to really enjoy traveling like this. No catching a bus from one of the casinos or taking a patchwork of trains to avoid having to drive in the city and find parking.

Sophie giggles. “They want to show you off to your best advantage…and make sure you don’t split a seam.”

Shuddering, I grip the wheel tighter. “Don’t even joke about that. I had that happen once on the sideline of a football game. I squatted to prepare to lift Randi, and as she went up in the air, I felt a cool breeze on my twig and berries. My arms were fully extended above my head, keeping Miranda in the air as she did the cheer and stunts, so I couldn’t cover up. I gave a stadium full of people a show.”

“Oh, no, wardrobe malfunctions are the worst! They measure the female dancers to the millimeter, and we’re taped and glued six ways to Sunday to ward off nip slips or flashing the kitty.” Sophie makes ayikesface, and it’s my turn to chuckle. Wardrobe malfunctions are the nightmares of people in the public eye everywhere. “What did you do? Other than pose proudly and let the world bask in your glory?”

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