Page 63 of Double Shot

“Yeah.” He grinned at me. “I struggled to pick.”

Unable to help myself, I teasingly asked, “If you had to pick just one that you thought was my favourite, which would it be?”

Instantly, I worried that the question might make him anxious. I didn’t want to put him on the spot or anything. I didn’t care if he got the answer wrong.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to take it seriously enough to get stressed out by the question. Or maybe—I secretly hoped—he was feeling more relaxed in my presence. Rubbing his chin, he made a thoughtful noise and stared intently down at all the slices of pie.

“Cherry,” he declared after a few seconds, sounding surprisingly decisive.

I burst out laughing. “You got it. It’s a toss-up between cherry and coconut cream.”

He grinned, sliding both the cherry and the coconut cream closer to me on the desk. “Nice. Got both of them.”

“Honestly though, all of the pie at David’s is good.” I reached for two clean forks, passing him one. “I eat there a lot after my shifts, and my best friend loves their pie so I usually buy some to take home, too.”

“Nat, right?”

My belly warmed with pleasure. He’d remembered. It may have seemed like a silly little thing, but Nat was one of the most important people in my life, so it wasn’t a silly thing to me.

“Yep.” I beamed at him, picking up the coconut cream to start, then cast my gaze over the rest of the pie. “Okay, let me guess your favourite… banana cream.”

“Close.” He pointed at me with his fork. “That’s my second favourite. Sweet potato is my favourite.”

“Ah.” I nodded sagely. “Good choice.”

“Not when you try to order it from any supernatural-run place,” he told me wryly. “When you’re a werewolf and any of your tastes are even remotely similar to those of dogs, folks love to make endless dog jokes. Especially other werewolves, actually.”

I made a little sound of sympathy. “That sucks.”

He waved his fork dismissively. “Werewolves razz each other a lot.”

Smiling, I scooped up a forkful of coconut cream pie and held it out. “Want to try this one?”

He glanced up, and his eyes darkened when he saw me holding out my fork. “Sure.”

I watched avidly as he leaned forward and closed his lips around the tines to eat the mouthful. I may have been panting a little. When he sat back and chewed, I automatically, without thinking about it, stuck the fork in my mouth and licked it clean.

His breath caught. He shifted in the armchair, trying to discreetly adjust his jeans. I pulled my fork free and licked my lips, my pulse leaping when I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his mouthful.

“Brian…” I wet my lips again as my mouth began to dry out with lust. “When you said the thing about no sex, did you mean none at all or maybe just a little bit, like…”

I trailed off when his gaze grew unfocused and his head snapped up. His brows furrowed, and he cocked his head before falling perfectly still, as if he was listening to something. Definitely not me anymore, that much was clear.

Then he tensed, his big body stiffening, those huge biceps bulging as his hands clenched into fists.

“Brian?” I asked hesitantly, glancing around the quiet and empty front office. “Um, what—”

“It’s them,” he uttered in a low, foreboding voice.

I looked around again in mild alarm, wondering if this fork was good enough to use as a weapon. Wait, didn’t my uncle keep a metal bat around here somewhere? “Who?”

He slowly rose from his chair and faced the door. I noticed, my alarm rising ever so slightly, that he seemed to subtly position himself in front of the desk.

In front of me.

“Frank and Beans,” he growled.

Chapter 21