Page 43 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

I walk to her and wrap my arms around her from behind. When she leans back and turns her face up to mine, I bend my head and press a tender kiss to her lips.

“Anything you want, Princess. If I can give it to you, I will.”

It must be my imagination that a mix of sadness and longing flashes in her blue eyes. She can’t want anything from me—she’s been insistent that what we have remains a fling. I don’t blame her.

We leave my room and find everyone sharing eggs and pancakes in the common kitchen. That’s a nice thing about being shifters—we burn calories so efficiently that we can enjoy things like pancakes or waffles and not be cheating on a nutrition plan like our human hockey league counterparts. We do have to pay attention to nutrition, of course, but we enjoy flexibility too.

“You’re starting the choreography for the shifter week dance today?” Miranda asks, dropping marshmallows into her hot chocolate.

Sophie holds out her mug for Miranda to drop some into hers too. Neither one of them is back to drinking tea yet. “Yeah, Logan agreed to film us so we can use the footage for the opening of our dance on the show. With the full moon and it being a clear night, it’s too perfect to pass up.”

* * *

Sophie’s fur is lustrous in the moonlight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she sprayed glitter to give her an extra sparkle, but it’s all Sophie. The contrast between my dark fur and her silvery strands is striking. She jokes about her wolf being decorative due to poor eyesight, but I could never find fault with a creature so stunning.

We spent the morning working on this portion of our dance. Normally we use counts, but since we can’t speak in wolf form unless we yip or howl, Logan is playing the track on his phone. It will be dubbed into the final version to cut out any of the crunching our paws make on the frozen field we’re dancing in.

Taking our spots across the field from each other, I fix my gaze on Sophie. She’s looking in my direction, but she can’t see clearly enough to view my expression. Is Logan’s camera picking up the way I look at Sophie? It’s like she hung the moon resting heavily in the sky.

“Five, four, three…” Mallory counts us down as she starts the song. Logan is in his golden eagle form and using a specialty camera so he can film us aerially. The dreamy notes of a guitar with a steady drumbeat carry across the field as Sophie and I start our measured advance toward each other, meeting in the center of the field in a stream of moonlight. We move so we’re side by side, facing in opposite directions, and then circle counterclockwise. With the stark difference in our coloring, we’re almost a furry yin and yang symbol as our bodies curve. Logan glides above us, his massive wingspan carrying him silently.

After our circle together, I continue around Sophie until we’re side by side again. We turn our heads and nuzzle each other in greeting and affection. I sneak a playful nip in along her jaw, my wolf’s teeth so close to that place he wants so badly. I can feel the need pulsing in him.Claim her. I can’t. He’ll have to be satisfied with a nip. Her crystal blue eyes, stunning against the pewter-colored fur surrounding them, widen in surprise, but she doesn’t miss a step. We stride in tandem toward the treeline, entwining our tails as if we’re holding hands.

I’m certain we got it in one take, but we do it a few more times so Logan can edit if necessary. We gather in the main room of the barn to watch the rough footage. Daphne is rubbing her eyes as she sits up on the sofa where she’d been taking a nap. Logan gives her a cuddle and rubs her baby bump before queuing up the footage. Pretty sure we all gasp when we realize what Logan’s camera captured. What I’d imagined we would look like pales in comparison to what’s on the screen. We can faintly hear the track in the background, and it confirms that we’re hitting the beat as we approach each other. I’m holding Sophie’s hand as we watch, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. And to me, it is.

* * *

The silence in the ballroom is deafening as Sophie and I walk toward the judges hand in hand. There’s a flicker of panic in her eyes when she looks up at me, and I squeeze her hand in reassurance. She has nothing to worry about because the applause is thundering when it comes. Her smile is brighter than all the studio lights put together when she hugs me. I lift and spin her as we reach Ian where he’s standing before the judges’ table. The audience is on their feet, joined by Carlo and Mary Ann. She’s wiping away a tear. Glen isn’t standing, but he’s applauding and nodding approvingly. He motions for the crowd to sit and quiet down, and when they do, he bestows us with one of his rare smiles.

“Very well done, you two. You were stunning in your wolf forms, and the videography for that outdoor sequence was magical. The way you mixed the lifts of contemporary dancing with the classic Viennese waltz was lovely. Trevor, your experience as a cheerleader and your obvious strength created spectacular moments, but you were always in control and Sophie seemed perfectly at ease. Have you ever done lifts and tosses like that, Sophie?”

I look down at her and meet her eyes. She kept pushing me to throw her higher and make our lifts more complex because she wanted to feel what it was like to fly. The trust she put in me is humbling.

“No, Glen, I haven’t. It was incredible. I wouldn’t trust anyone other than Trevor to do some of those moves. I knew he wouldn’t let me fall.”

She’s right, I would never let her fall. But that hasn’t stopped me from falling for her.

“I could see how seriously he was taking it. Trevor, you danced beautifully, but we could see on your face how much you were thinking about everything. You can do this, your body knows what to do, now get your face following the program. No more stress or worry, look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Mary Ann wipes away a tear before giving us praise. Carlo just shrugs and starts clapping again. We get our first tens from Mary Ann and Carlo, but Glen is stingy and gives us a nine. From what I hear, a ten from Glen is a rarity, but I’m determined to earn one for Sophie. She deserves it. We’ll get tens across the board next week in the semifinals. If I can’t give us a future, at least I can give Sophie the tens she deserves.

17

TREVOR

This week has been crazy.We’re preparing for the semifinals and are dancing the jive. It’s an up-tempo dance with lots of kicks, flicks, and rock steps. We’re supposed to be connected to each other but also show joy and engage the audience. There are spins, kicks, and lifts. It’s very technical. I’m trying the best I can to learn everything, but my brain is muddled. The dance steps are competing with new hockey plays we’re trying to keep us in the wild card race for the playoffs. The string of losses these past few weeks has dropped our standing so much we’re scrambling to earn the spot in the Dickinson Cup playoffs that was ours all season long. Everyone says hockey is a team sport, but I feel like it’s my fault we’ve been slipping down the rankings like a penguin sliding down an iceberg.

Sophie is at her place in Zoom meetings with the producers, so I snag Randi to help me practice downstairs. Randi’s trying to help me get the dance into my brain well enough that muscle memory takes over, so I can focus on looking like I’m having fun and not trying to remember what my arms and legs need to do.

I want to prove to Sophie I can do this and that I’m willing to do whatever I have to, even if that means giving cheesy smiles and acting like I don’t have two tons of stress on my shoulders. I can fake anything for ninety seconds. I have the moves down, at least most of the time. Okay, some of the time. It’s my expression that’s the real problem. I can’t just let go and dance. I think about every step and how important this is to Sophie, and it’s messing with my head, causing me to miss steps. And all of that’s showing on my face. I know Sophie’s frustrated and trying to not show it. In a way, that makes me feel worse. I’m failing her like I’m failing my team. I’ve never failed anything before, and now is a lousy time to become an expert at it.

“You know the steps, Trev, what’s the problem?” Randi asks after she watches the video of our last run-through.

I point to my face. “This.”

She lays a gentle hand on my forearm and gives me a sympathetic look. “Trevor, you can’t help that you’re ugly. You have a great personality that makes up for it.”

My arm whips out to pull her against me, and I give her a noogie on her head. She squirms and giggles until I release her.

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