Page 6 of Love, Clumsily
That evening, I was curled up on my porch swing with a book, enjoying the cool spring air and the sounds of the forest. The sun had just set, painting the sky in fading purples and blues, when I heard a rustling from the treeline.
I tensed, suddenly aware of how isolated my cabin was. While Pine Haven was generally safe, I was still basically living in the woods. Images of axe murderers and rabid bears flashed through my mind.
The rustling grew louder, and I reached for my phone, ready to call… well, someone. But before I could, a large shape emerged from the trees.
Not a bear. Not an axe murderer.
A wolf.
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. It was enormous—far bigger than I’d imagined wolves could be—with thick dark fur and eyes that caught the porch light and reflected it back gold.
Don’t move,I told myself.Don’t run. That just triggers their chase instinct, right?
The wolf took a step closer, then another. It moved with a fluid grace that was almost beautiful, despite my terror. It stopped at the edge of my yard, just where the forest gave way to my small patch of grass, and simply… watched me.
Its gaze was unsettlingly intelligent. Not at all what I’d expect from a wild animal. And there was something familiar about those eyes…
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
The wolf’s ears perked up, clearly hearing me despite the distance.
“Mason?” I said, hardly believing what I was saying.
The wolf’s reaction was immediate and unmistakable. It jerked back as if I’d thrown something at it, eyes widening in what could only be described as shock. Then, with one last long look at me, it turned and vanished into the trees, moving faster than anything that size should be able to.
I sat frozen on my porch swing, book forgotten in my lap, mind racing.
Werewolves weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. I was being ridiculous.
Except… Mason’s heightened senses. His incredible strength. The way he always seemed to know when someone was approaching before they appeared. His fear of “losing control.”
And those eyes. Those distinctive amber-gold eyes that I’d been dreaming about for weeks.
“Well,” I said to the empty yard, “that would certainly explain a few things.”
Chapter 4
I didn’t sleep much that night. Every creak of the cabin, every rustle outside had me sitting up, wondering if my maybe-werewolf not-quite-boyfriend had returned. By morning, I’d convinced myself I was being ridiculous. Stress and an overactive imagination, that’s all it was.
Then I checked my phone and found a text from Mason:
Can I come over today? Need to talk. Important.
I stared at the screen. Was he going to confess? Or was this about something else entirely, and I was just projecting my werewolf theory onto an ordinary relationship conversation?
Sure,I texted back.Around 2?
Three dots appeared immediately, disappeared, appeared again, and finally:
See you then.
I spent the morning alternating between cleaning my already-tidy cabin and researching werewolves online, which was about as helpful as you’d expect. According to the internet, Mason was either a bloodthirsty monster who would tear me apart at the full moon, a tortured soul cursed to shift forms against his will, or a sexy alpha male with magical pheromones and the ability to impregnate men. (That last one was from a particularly creative fan fiction site I fell down a rabbit hole into.)
By the time 2 o’clock rolled around, I’d worked myself into a state of nervous anticipation. When a knock came at my door, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I took a deep breath, smoothed down my shirt, and opened the door.
Mason stood on my porch looking like he hadn’t slept either. His hair was more disheveled than usual, and there was a tension in his shoulders that made his already imposing frame seem even larger. He wore a simple gray t-shirt and jeans, both of which looked like they’d been slept in.
