Page 11 of Runaway Wolf
“A theaterroom, really. It wasn’t like a whole theater,” Caitlin said, but that sounded weak, even to her ears.
Penny snorted.
“Maybe we should watch it as adults and see if it’s really—” Noah began.
“Nope,” Penny and Caitlin said together.
“Anyway, you gotta come in with me,” Caitlin said. “You said you would if I told you my secret.”
“So I did.” Isaac opened his car door at the same time Noah opened Caitlin’s driver’s side for her.
“My lady,” Noah said, a twinkle in his eye.
She tossed her keys into the cupholder, then came around the car warily, her eyes glued on the front window of the station. But, brave girl, she stood next to him and his monster was worse than anything in that building. She stood closer than she even realized.
He settled his hand onto the small of her back. “It’s okay. I got you.” And yeah, both he and the wolf noticed when her body relaxed against his palm.
His sensitive ears picked up the sound of a click behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder, which made Caitlin turn around too. Penny had climbed into the front passenger seat.
“What? Oh, my God. Did she just lock the car doors for safety?”
He chuckled when Penny waved at them through the glass of the windows.
“So much for sisterly love,” Caitlin grumbled. “I’m going to get serial killed in here.”
“Not next to me,” he said, hooking an arm around her neck and tugging her close. “Stick with me, Cait.”
“No one ever calls me Cait. It’s not dignified,” she whispered.
“Says who?”
“I guess… my dad always did.”
“Hmph. I like it.”
“I think I do too.”
“Then it’ll be what I call you.”
She was so small by his side. It fired up his protective instincts. He—and the wolf—liked that she didn’t pull away.
“You know what’ll help with the nerves?” he rumbled into her ear.
“What?”
“Road trip, where you stop off at every one of the little gas stations to get snacks—”
“Nope.”
He chuckled, because she answered almost before he even finished the sentence. “I can be persuaded to go with you. We can start slow. One little trip a weekend. Maybe just start with one station.”
They were up to the counter now and she slid her card across the way with one finger. Her hand shook, and her eyes were on old Mack, who looked like he might have been tipping the bottle a bit behind the counter. Still, if Cait didn’t know about his penchant for tequila, she might assume his narrowed eyes were glaring instead of glassy.
“Yeah, maybe if you were with me,” she said, her voice a thready whisper.
“It’s a date.”
Her shocked face turned toward him just as Mack handed her card and an old-fashioned paper receipt to sign. Was that maybe too fast?
