Page 53 of Wolf's Providence

He also saved the awkwardness of the “where do I sleep?” because he was still gone when I went to bed. He’d told me not to wait up, and I hadn’t. My body was healed, but whether I was still suffering from mental unawareness of my healed body, or perhaps it was more basic and it was simple PTSD or my ME, but either way, my body ached.

I woke up alone, the other side of the bed as it was when I went to sleep, but I knew he was in the house because I could hear him moving around.

Unless it wasn’t him.

The fear that followed that thought almost made me throw up on my covers. The quick rap of knuckles against my bedroom door had me calming down.

“You awake?” His voice was deep and gruff. “Your scent changed.”

My scent changed. The fundamental differences between us were once more highlighted by his use of his natural shifter abilities.

“Yeah, fine. Sorry, I’ll be out soon.”

Why had I apologized?Shaking my head at myself for being an awkward ninny, I got out of bed and trotted to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of soft lounge pants and an oversized baseball T-shirt. Extra thick fluffy socks completed my cozy outfit, and with a quick brush of my hair, I went in search of coffee. And Caleb.

Walking into the living room, I found myself watching him from across the room. He moved through the kitchen space with a predatory grace that felt so at odds with the easy familiarity of my own home. His movements were sure, perhaps a little too quiet, and at times cautious—as though he didn’t belong.

I couldn’t deny it was strange to see him here, in my kitchen, looking out of place against the backdrop of my pale beige and white kitchen. I knew better than to think he wasn’t aware of me in the room, but his gaze kept flicking to the windows as if he were wishing he was outside instead of in. Or maybe I was doing him a disservice? Maybe he was on guard, waiting for whoever had been after me to leap out of the woods behind my house and attack me.

“Coffee?” he offered, pointing to a cup on the counter, and I was grateful for the break in the silence.

Was that my mug? How had he known that? “Yeah.” I blinked slowly, wondering why I was being weird. “Thanks.”

Padding over to him in my fluffy socks, I saw him look down and thought I saw a ghost of a smile as he regarded them. As I took the cup from him, our fingers brushed, causing a jolt to run up my arm at the contact.

The effect he had on me was something I couldn’t explain. I had tried—and failed—to reason it out. I’d also tried to ignoreit, but that hadn’t worked, as both times I’d slept with him happened when I’d been trying to deny the connection that existed between us.

I also realized that seeing him in my kitchen, in familiar surroundings, wasn’t dulling the connection. If anything, it was making it sharper, more undeniable. There was no escaping the pull that I had to him.

“Are you planning on going to your studio today?” he asked, leaning against the counter with a casualness that looked alien on him.

I wasn’t being harsh, the guy was intense.CasualandCalebin the same sentence was unnatural.

Nodding, I took a sip of coffee. “I am, it’s been too long. I know Lorna will have done an amazing job, but I need to get back into a routine.”

I noticed that something I said didn’t seem to sit right with him. His gaze dropped to the floor as if something I said dissatisfied him. Setting his coffee cup down, he turned and began opening cabinets, scanning the lack of contents with a bit too much intensity.

“Yes, I know, I need to go to the store.” I sounded too defensive.

“You’ve not been here,” he said reasonably. “But even when youarehere, your food stock is sadly lacking,” he mused, and I tried not to bristle at the insult. Intentional or not, it still stung. “I’ll make a list, in case you’re not able to get out or something.”

Or something?

“Caleb, it’s a grocery store run. Not much call for a survival mission in Whispering Pines,” I said with a forced laugh, but I stopped when I saw his expression.

There was no humor in his eyes, just that raw intensity, that ever-present wariness. Did he know he was scanning the perimeter of my kitchen like it was hostile territory?

“Of course,” he murmured. “I was thinking of your ME.”

Oh, well, now I felt like a dick.

“I’ll finish my coffee, change my feet, and then we can go together. If you want? Or I can go myself?” Did shifters shop? Or did they just eat the neighboring wildlife? Cheeks burning at my ignorance, I gulped my coffee.

“I’ll go with you,” he told me, making no mention of my sudden behavior change, but I knew he saw it.

He noticed everything.

“I’ll be two minutes.” Putting my coffee cup down, I hurried to my bedroom door, closing it firmly behind me as I leaned against it for a moment to catch my breath.

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