Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(33)

He smiled. “It’s not going to be so easy to get free labor out of me.”

“I’m not giving up.” I winked, a little shocked at my own flirtatiousness, then went upstairs to my flat.

It took forever to get the grime off, but the water pressure and heat were so perfect that I didn’t mind a bit. As I was drying myself, I heard Rafe call up the stairs: “There’s food down here if you want it.”

I felt my brows rise. That was unexpected.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” I dried my hair as quickly as possible, then threw on an overlarge T-shirt and some leggings. Thick socks completed the look—although no one with any style would call it a look—and I headed down to the main level.

I felt the faintest shiver of anticipation as I turned the corner at the base of the stairs. Would I really find him cooking?

As soon as I spotted him in the kitchen, I blinked in surprise. He was standing in front of the hob, ladling pasta into two big bowls.

Yeah, I hadn’t seen this coming.

And of course, he’d changed into another thin T-shirt that hugged his perfect shoulders and tapered at the waist. Where did he buy these things? The Grumpy McHottiePants store?

“What’s all this?” I asked. “You’re being nice. It’s weird.”

“I wouldn’t call this nice.” He walked to the table and set the bowls down. “I’d just call it having extra food and not wanting to waste.”

“Uh-huh.” It was clear from my tone that I didn’t believe him.

“Don’t get used to it.” The gruff boatbuilder was back, but I could see beneath the surface now.

I took the seat that he indicated, then accepted a glass of red wine. The spaghetti Bolognese in front of me looked divine, and smelled even better.

He got right into eating, not bothering with conversation, so I did the same. The first bite exploded with savory, tangy tomato sauce, and a small moan of pleasure escaped me. Embarrassed, I looked up to see if he’d noticed. His gaze flashed to mine, and I swore I saw the faintest bit of heat there.

I swallowed and said, “It’s really good.”

He grunted.

All right. Conversation was going great. I briefly considered eating in silence but decided that was a bit too weird for me.

“So, what brought you to Charming Cove?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Best weather in the UK, and I saw this place come up for sale. It was perfect.”

I frowned. There was no way this place had gone up for sale through normal channels, not since my grandmother had owned it. “Where did you see it for sale?”

“On Magical Realtors Monthly. I’d been keeping an eye on it, looking for a place to move on to.”

“Huh.” I sipped my wine. That was a legit site. It shouldn’t surprise me, since he struck me as an honest guy. But what the heck was going on? I really needed the solicitor to get back to me.

But it was the other thing he’d said—that he was looking for a place to move on to. Like he didn’t want to stay in one place too long. I wanted to know more about that.

Before I could ask, he spoke. “What about you? Didn’t you have a life back in London or wherever before you came here?”

“I did.”

“It’s nice to inherit such a big house, but you left a whole life behind.” Even though the words were prodding, the tone was not.

“Not really.” I thought of Tommy, and for the strangest reason, I wanted to tell him all about the whole mess.

Nope. That was a terrible idea. Also, it was way too embarrassing to share. Instead, I went with, “I was ready for a fresh start, and the house became available at exactly the right time.” I winced. “That sounds terrible. I’m not glad my grandmother died, of course not. I’m actually sad I didn’t get a second chance with her now that I’m an adult. It’s just that I didn’t know her. Only met her once when I was a kid. It didn’t go well.”

I could still remember my disappointment. I’d been so excited for that visit when I’d been seven. But her disinterest had been clear, even to someone as young as I’d been. I’d found out later my mother had needed the babysitting for the weekend, which meant my gran hadn’t even wanted me there. After that, I’d avoided trips to Gran’s—not that there had been many.

I could see the concern in his eyes, but he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Anyway,” I said, “the house isn’t mine outright. The will stipulates that I need to fix it up within a month of starting. I have no idea why she wrote it that way, but it’s definitely going to make things hard.”

“That is odd,” he said. “What happens to it if you don’t succeed?”

“It goes to my miserable uncle.”

He frowned. “There’s got to be a reason she did it that way.”

“I know, I just have no idea what it is. I can’t fail, though. I want to stay—I love it here.” To my surprise, I heard myself add, “I also have nowhere else to go.”

Suddenly, I was feeling way too vulnerable. “What about you? Shouldn’t you have a pack somewhere?”

His jaw tightened, and the air turned tense. I could feel the shift and suddenly regretted the question. I should have gone lighter with my subject change—asked him about his boats or something. Packs were a big deal to wolves, and I’d approached it way too blithely.