Page 136 of Howlin’ For You

Was it something I said? The thinly veiled innuendo? Izzy likes to tease a little, but it seems she’s not as comfortable with being pursued.

She’ll revel in it, eventually.

I take her plate to the sink to be dealt with later. Tomorrow, hopefully. “Would you like dessert?”

“Mm, in a bit,” she says, standing. Her fingers trail along the grooves in the raw wood dining table.

“I’ll refill our wine. If you’d like to sit on the couch, I can start a fire.” It’s in this moment that I realize how sparse my home is of actual decoration.

Renovating this house is what eventually got me moving again. Moving past the devastation and putting that pain into something physical. Healthy. I almost destroyed every single room until I got chastised by some in the neighborhood for not just building something from scratch. But this home? This is my family home. I could never sell it.

But in my meticulous overhaul, I never decorated. I never cared about that as much.

As Izzy sits, I wish there were a soft pillow for her back and a multitude of warm blankets to choose from. I wish I were more prepared.

I think part of me gave up on the entire notion of having someone like her to entertain. Or that I would ever find her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks softly, curling up on my couch despite the lack of comfort, making herself at home.

I shake my head. “I don’t have pillows.”

Her wind-chime laughter brings a smile to my face despite everything. “I’ll grab some from Clover’s for you.”

That earlier spark of hope flares back to life. They might be off-the-cuff remarks for her, but I tuck each one into my heart. Little words that imply she’s thinking about staying.

My feet carry me to her side, and I sit on the plush cream couch, wine glasses in hand. Fire forgotten.

“Tell me more about your home. Does your family still live in Issaquah?” I want to know every single thing about her. I want to carry every piece of who she is with me.

Her brows knit together, but she settles into the couch. “Yeah, my parents are back there. I’m an only child, so it was just the three of us.”

Her words from last night play in my head. How they made her feel like she was never enough. I put my hand on her knee and squeeze lightly, hoping she knows I remember.

She clears her throat and takes another sip of wine. “When did you buy the house?”

“I didn’t. I inherited it when my parents passed.” I pat the back of the couch with a fond smile. “House I grew up in.”

Her head tilts, soft smile growing. “I love that you kept it. You must have so many beautiful memories here.”

“I do. I can still smell my mother’s cooking in the walls sometimes. Makes me feel safer than anywhere else.”

She scootches closer, placing her wine on the table next to us. “That’s beautiful.”

“I’ve thought about it, and if my future wife ever wanted to leave, I could. I could go somewhere else if that’s what we really wanted. But for now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

And I mean it. If Izzy wanted to leave this house and start fresh, or leave Lunamois, I’d follow her wherever she goes.

“Your…” she trails off as I place my hand on the back of her neck, thumb sliding to rest over her pulse point.

“My?” I grin, pride growing as her eyelashes flutter.

“Your future wife is going to be very lucky.” Her throat works around a swallow, a light blush flushing her cheeks.

“I’ll fucking see to it.”

Her breathing picks up as I stroke her skin. “Nick.”

“Mm?” My other hand travels up past her knee to caress her thigh. Little goosebumps emerge under my touch.