“Yes, for you. You’re a compassionate woman driven by an almost inescapable desire to help others no matter the personal cost.” Outrage replaced caution, but he gave into the urge for more contact and pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her protest. “You’ve been burned yourself. It’s why you recognize it in others, yet it hasn’t made you jaded. You still go out of your way for total strangers, even strangers you think you should dislike.”
Yes, perhaps he should have let Colby leave earlier.
“You put yourself out on a limb. When the branch breaks, you take the fall and then climb again. It’s an admirable persistence, but it’s left you on the other side of choices you couldn’t return from. You’re running away, not to something though you’re working very hard to change that around—but once again, you paused and clamber out on a limb. This time you did it for me.”
Her lashes descended, closing him out and, when she glanced at him again, she kept her chin down. Even her scent seemed tense, riddled with a taste of embarrassment and more than a touch of anger.
“Hope lives in you, hope you keep trying to bottle up. You chose a career path that lets you help others. Taking care of people is more than a job. It’s a need. You’re a lot like my hippie vibe mother in that respect.” The comparison fit her. “It’s enchanting.” The temptation she presented created a moral quandary, but Brett possessed patience. Her lips were as smooth and soft as he imagined. Removing his finger reluctantly, he changed the subject to something far safer. “What would you like to eat?”
Breath hitching, she withdrew a step and he let her escape. She wouldn’t get far. “You have a thing for feeding me, don’t you?” If he’d wanted the subject changed, she grasped his offer like a lifeline.
Don’t like to be on the other side of that mirror do you, Colby? “We need to eat and it’s been a while since lunch.”
Her chin raised, the wariness in her eyes mingling with speculation. “I’m not much of a cook. Baking? I can bake with the best of them, but I’m more a takeout girl than I am a three course meal in the kitchen.”
Filing away the information, he nodded. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal. My father made sure of it.” Then, because the intimate bubble around them seemed a little to claustrophobic when he refused to take any action while Luc was down for the count, he said, “What’s your favorite kind of takeout? We’ll make an adventure of it and go find you something.”
“Pad Thai.”
The suggestion left his mouth watering. “I have an idea. It’s a hike though, about an hour from here, but totally worth it. Do you trust me to see you through the rain and get you food?”
“You’ve had wine, too.” It wasn’t a rejection.
“I have,” he agreed. “But only half a glass.” Nowhere near enough to impair his reaction times. “I know the way, and I promise, you’ll be safe.” From everyone, even him.
“Does the place your thinking of serve real Pad Thai? Hot and spicy?”
He zeroed in on her lips. “Another thing we have in common.”
The thud of her heart increased, and her scent changed again, a hint of desire opening like a flower beneath it all. “Playing with fire?”
The words doused him, and he leashed the need being around her had awakened. “Apparently.” Extending his hand, he curled his fingers in invitation. “Shall we?”
“What the hell.” She reclaimed her glass then slid her palm across his. “But I’ll hold you accountable if the food sucks.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Reasonable fascination or not, Brett planned to enjoy the next several hours. After dinner, all he had to do was persuade her to stay for the night. An image of her sprawled against the sheets on his bed sent a pulse of need straight to his cock. Yes, she had to stay. Until we can figure her out. In that, he and his wolf were in full agreement.
Chapter Seven
No sun leaked through the curtains when Colby fought her way groggily to wakefulness. She’d never been a fan of morning. One of the drawbacks to her community service had been a lack of control over her schedule. She’d preferred swing or graveyards to God help me too damn early. The lack of sunlight warned her it was likely in the too fucking early for humanity range, so she closed her eyes and burrowed into the pillows.
Drifting toward sleep, she rubbed her cheek against the soft jersey cotton of the pillowcase. Twin scents of jasmine and vanilla teased her nose. Florals weren’t her thing. She’d always had a sensitive nose and heavy perfumes or too sweet scents made her eyes water. The understated scent on the pillow comforted her though and underscored a more masculine, piney kind of cologne. A lot like what…