Page 49 of Howl You Doin'

"Which Rachelle and her goons seem to know about now." His jaw clenched. "You're staying here until this is resolved."

"I can take care of myself." The familiar spark of defiance lit her green eyes. "Or did you miss the part where I said I barbecued those wolves?"

His lips twitched despite his determination to stay serious. "But you're hurt, and I..." He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. His wolf urged him to markher as his, but the human side knew better. "I need to know you're safe."

"Need to, huh?" Something softened in her expression.

"Yes." He leaned forward in his chair, close enough to catch the lingering scent of smoke and cinnamon that was uniquely her. "Because somewhere between you organizing my community center and setting my enemies on fire, I started caring about you. More than I should."

Her breath caught. "Oh."

20

FIONA

Fiona lounged on Caleb's plush leather couch, her legs tucked beneath a soft blanket. The late morning sunlight streamed through the windows next to her. Her bruises had faded to a dull yellow, and the scratches were nearly healed. She traced her fingers over the bandage on her shoulder, remembering how Caleb had changed it every morning with surprising gentleness.

"If you keep picking at that, it'll scar," Caleb said, setting a steaming mug of herbal tea on the coffee table.

"You're worse than my mother." She reached for the tea, inhaling the soothing aroma. "I never pegged you for a nurse."

"I prefer 'attentive caretaker.'" He settled into the armchair across from her. "Besides, someone had to make sure you didn't try to set the house on fire."

"That was only one time, and I was aiming for the curtains. They're hideous."

His laugh, deep and rich, sent warmth through her chest. Over the past week, she'd seen a different side of him – one that brought her soup in bed, read her terrible romance novels whenher concussion made reading impossible, and always seemed to know exactly what she needed before she asked.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, catching her stare.

"Just wondering if you meant what you said that first morning." She picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "About caring about me."

"Fiona." The way he said her name made her look up. "I wouldn't have spent the last week watching terrible Hallmark movies if I didn't mean it."

"They're not terrible, they're classics."

"The baker fellin love with a secret prince. Three times."

"Different bakers, different princes." She grinned.

He threw a pillow at her, which she caught with a laugh. Their eyes met, and that familiar tension crackled between them.

"You know," she said softly, "I started caring about you too. Somewhere between you scowling at my management skills at your community center and bringing me chicken noodle soup in your bed."

The afternoon sun warmed Fiona's skin as she surveyed the community center's damaged walls. Paint cans and brushes littered the ground, along with lumber and tools. Her body still ached a little, but she refused to let that stop her from helping rebuild.

"You should be resting," Caleb said, appearing at her side with a ladder.

"I've rested enough." She grabbed a paintbrush. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't pick terrible colors again."

"There was nothing wrong with the olive green."

Pack members bustled around them, carrying supplies and chatting. Unlike before, they now greeted her with warm smiles and respectful nods. One of the younger wolves, Tessa, bounded up to her.

"Is it true you set Rachelle's fur on fire?" Tessa's eyes sparkled with admiration.

"Only singed it a little." Fiona winked. "Though her pride took the worst hit."

Caleb snorted. "That's not how Wade tells it. According to him, you lit up the whole street."

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