Page 20 of Wolves & Watercolors
“I’m surprised they’re not the pregnant ones,” I whisper back. His huff of laughter is gratifying.
“Give it a few months. I don’t think Marigold will be able to wait once Hazel’s baby arrives.”
“That’s sweet,” I murmur.
Cedar’s eyes flick over my face, analyzing in a way that makes me feel seen.
“Do you want to go hiking tomorrow? I can show you some spots that might be good to paint.” His offer catches me off guard, and my heart swells.
“I would love that.”
My cheek brushes his and he moves away. The flash of excitement fades away with distance, though I’m still painfully aware of where his legs have spread enough that my knee touches his thigh. Any other man, I would be pissed he was invading my space, but with Cedar, I don’t mind. More than not minding, I like the contact.
“I need some chocolate,” Hazel declares, and half the room jumps to accommodate her. I raise one eyebrow and she shrugs in response. She’s got it pretty good here, and I have no doubt her baby will be spoiled to the max with so many uncles and aunties around. It’s obvious I’m not needed, but nonetheless, I’m grateful to be here.
The rest of the evening races by, full of laughter and warm affection. The two couples can’t keep their hands off each other, and even Onyx has his phone out to text Ember. I see a flash of some rather suggestive emojis when he fumbles his screen.
Cedar stays by my side, murmuring a quiet commentary into my ear whenever the others discuss something I knownothing about. My heart races each time, leaving me exhausted by the time everyone is ready to call it a night.
Marigold and Jasper offer to walk me home, and it might be my imagination, but Cedar seems disappointed. Maybe his scowl is unrelated, but it doesn’t feel that way.
Everyone says their goodbyes, including everyone saying goodbye to Hazel’s belly separately. She just laughs and rubs at that sore spot at her hip.
Onyx grabs me for a hug, leaving me feeling too awkward to initiate a hug with Cedar. I’ll see him tomorrow anyway.
The night is solid darkness. Hazel is thoughtful enough to hand me a flashlight so I can watch my own feet and ignore the way Marigold’s hand slips under Jasper’s shirt. I have no doubt the moment they drop me off at Heath’s cabin, their hands will be wandering to even more inappropriate places.
I’d like to be annoyed, but it just leaves me feeling lonely. Hugging my sketchbook to my chest, I flop down on my temporary bed and try to quiet my thoughts. In that silence, a muffled animal noise reaches me. Curiosity gets the better of me and I crack the window open a sliver.
The second howl is much clearer. It’s haunting and beautiful, leaving me aching to paint the forest and moon in shades of black and silver. It’s probably a coyote, but it sounds like a wolf. That must be why they don’t want me hiking alone.
The idea of such a majestic creature running through the woods is inspiring, and I tug the quilt around my shoulders and nestle down, visions of dark trees and silver fur swirling in my mind.
V . Painters &
Ass-Prints
Cedar
It makes sense. Hazel wanted me to take Aurora hiking. I’m the one with the time. She already knows me. I’m the logical choice, and I almost have myself convinced that my reasons are completely selfless by the time I reach my garden.
Dew sparkles on shivering leaves, turning the garden into a glittering tapestry. I love early mornings like this. The rise of emotion leaves my muscles aching. Another day without shifting. I’ll have to handle this tonight or I’m risking slipping out of control. It’s never been something I’ve had to worry about. I’m the composed one, and while Onyx accidentally shifted more than a few times as a volatile teenager, I never did. Even Slate had a few outbursts over the years.
Yet I don’t feel composed when Aurora appears in the garden entrance. Tendrils of baby peas sway around her as they work to climb the arched trellis. They reach for her as she passes through. She’s in baggy jeans with her hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing the slope of her neck.
“Good morning!” She adjusts the messenger bag over her shoulder.
Moving without thought, I meet her in the middle. Her smile brightens and I take in the effect as my heart rate picks up. Even my stomach churns nervously. This isn’t like me. With a quick exhale to steady myself, I focus on speaking. “Ready to go already? It’s pretty early.”
“Sorry,” she says, those honey eyes turning regretful.
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” I scramble to repair the situation. “I’m used to being the only morning person around here. You surprised me. A good surprise.”
The smile that warms her face also seizes up my lungs. She’s stunning, painfully beautiful with gold flecks in her irises and freckles dusting her tawny skin. “Well, not anymore! I’ve always loved mornings. I’m a wreck late at night, not sure if you noticed last night.” Her nose crinkles with her self-deprecating smile and her chin dips and she peers up at me through dark lashes.
“You didn’t seem like a wreck to me,” I murmur, drawing closer than I should. The air holds a chill and her sweater looks thin.
“Glad I hid it well,” she says with a laugh. Her hands rub together as she glances around. “How’s the garden?”
