Page 21 of Wedding for My Werewolf

The drawer closed with a soft thud, concealing the evidence of her past life.

Eric returned with an armload of wood and built a fire with the swift efficiency of long practice, then looked over at where she was hovering nervously in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Would you like some tea?”

“You have tea?”

“Just because I live alone, it doesn’t mean I only drink beer and whiskey,” he said dryly, smiling when she blushed. “I have both, but I also have four kinds of tea. And three kinds of coffee, but I suspect you don’t need caffeine right now.”

“Tea would be fine.”

She followed him to the small but efficient kitchen, hesitated, then took a seat at the kitchen table, watching as he filled the kettle and placed tea bags in the teapot. When he added the boiling water, the delicious scent of mint filled the air. He brought the teapot to the table and filled two pottery mugs before taking a seat opposite her. The table was small enough that their knees brushed under the table and her stomach did a little flip.

She took a nervous sip, then sighed with pleasure.

“This is delicious.”

“My mother has an extensive tea collection.” He gave her a crooked grin. “She’s always pushing it on me.”

“Oh.” She took another sip. “So, what does she think of our…”

“Mating?” Golden eyes watched her over the rim of his mug. “She wasn’t pleased.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’ll come round.”

Despite the easy assurance in his voice, she could almost hear the unspokenprobablyat the end.It’s only temporary, she reminded herself yet again.

“We’ll need to be seen together in town,” he added, his fingers drumming once on the wooden table. “Regular meals, walks, the usual couple things.”

She traced the rim of her mug, avoiding his eyes. “How often?”

“At least a few times a week. Enough to be believable without overdoing it.”

He leaned back, still watching her. The way he looked at her, with those golden eyes warm and soft, made her chest tighten. She forced herself to focus on her mug instead.

“I won’t pry into your business,” he continued. “And I expect the same courtesy.”

Her sigh of relief was probably a little too fervent and she rushed into speech.

“What if… what happens if your mother—your Pack—discovers this isn’t real?”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. The easy atmosphere vanished, replaced by something heavier. “They won’t.”

“But if they do?—”

“I’ll handle it. There won’t be any consequences for you.” His tone left no room for argument, but then his expression gentled. “Trust me. The Pack is my responsibility.”

The words ‘trust me’ echoed in her mind, bringing back memories she’d rather forget. But there was something in his steady gaze that made her want to believe him, despite everything her experiences had taught her.

The air thickened as their eyes locked, and she dropped her gaze to her lap, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming her. The silence stretched between them, but when she finally dared to peek at him, he was still watching her, his face unreadable.

“You’re safe here,” he said softly.

Unexpected tears burned her eyes. She’d heard the words before, but his deep, calm voice made her want to believe them. Overcome by the rush of emotion, she jumped to her feet.

“Let me make dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

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