Page 65 of A Wolfe in the Woods

We were tipsy. Comfortable. The fire had burned low, casting a soft amber glow across the room, shadows dancing on the walls like they were eavesdropping.

Blanche had kicked off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her in the chair across from me. At some point, she’d migrated closer—close enough that her knee brushed mine when she shifted, but neither of us pulled away. Her eyes were glossy from the wine and the hour, and she’d been talking about Everwick in a way I hadn’t heard before. Less bitter. More nostalgic.

“I used to think I hated it,” she admitted, swirling the last of her wine in her glass. “Everwick, I mean. Thought it was too small. Too slow. But now…” She looked toward the window, into the darkened woods beyond. “There’s something about it that I can’t stop missing. I feel like I didn’t realize how much of myself I left behind when I left her.”

“June?”

She nodded.

I didn’t say anything to that but just let the silence exist. I wanted to reach for her hand. Almost did. But something about the quiet between us already felt like a kind of touch.

She glanced over at me, smiling softly. “This is a perfect night.”

I tipped my head. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. The coziness…the fire, the company, the food…” She closed her eyes dramatically, as if remembering the meal again. “Gods, the food. Those oysters!”

I chuckled. “You really think food’s that powerful, huh?”

“Absolutely. Bad food, bad mood…good food, good mood. Food affects your life…makes your life better.” She lifted the wineglass to her lips for a sip.

Without thinking, I found the words slipping out: “It’s better than sex.”

Blanche froze, then sucked in a surprised breath.

Cue coughing.

She grabbed her napkin, covering her mouth, trying not to choke as she laughed through it while I just sat there, caught somewhere between horror and amusement.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, lips curling in a sheepish half smile. “I shouldn’t have said that. Must be the wine.”

“Maybe you need to have better sex,” she shot back, deadpan.

I blinked. “That’s true. But you know, in order for that to happen, I’d first need to behavingsex.”

She arched a brow, swirling the last of her wine. “Maybe you should put it on your to-do list.”

I laughed. “Dear to-do list…I need to list someone. To do.”

That got a genuine laugh out of her. “That’s so terrible it might even be funny.”

“I’m a funny guy,” I deadpanned, giving the world’s most unconvincing shrug.

“No, I don’t think I’ve met him yet. I only know the mysterious one,” Blanche teased, eyes narrowing playfully over the rim of her glass.

“And what do you think of him?” I asked, tone light, but watching her closely.

She squinted, lips pursed. “Hmm…I don’t know. He broods a lot. Says little. Smolders occasionally.”

“Sounds dangerous.” I leaned in slightly.

She leaned in too. “Maybe. There’s something about him, hiding just under the surface…” Her voice lowered. “Like he might bite if you got too close.”

“Depends how close you get,” I said, letting the words linger.

Her eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a moment. The air felt charged between us.

Then she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sat back, not breaking eye contact. “So, what else is on your to-do list?”