Page 34 of Howlin’ For You

As I walk back to get the container, I’m unable to stop mulling over the entire evening. I didn’t expect it to go in this direction. Our push and pull are natural and instinctive. We’re able to go from serious and passionate to sweet and teasing like waves on the ocean shore.

We just work.

She accepts me. The wounds, the vulnerability, the fear of being abandoned. All of it.

“Nick?”

Izzy’s voice breaks me out of my head. I’ve been staring at this container for who knows how long.

“Sorry,” I say, turning. “Let’s get your cake boxed up.”

Her smile softens, understanding in her eyes, as she comes to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder. She doesn’t pry, just lends me her strength in case I need it.

I truly am the luckiest damn werewolf in the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ISABELLA

“What’s your favorite color?”

I giggle at Nick’s question. It’s the third he’s asked since we started the journey to my house. It’s as if he’s trying to learn all the mundane little things about me at once.

“Hmm…” I squeeze his hand. “I don’t think I’ve thought about what my favorite color is since I was a kid.”

He squeezes back, adding in a shoulder bump for good measure. “Think about it.”

A cool breeze swirls around us as we turn off Main Street and down onto a residential street. Light spills out onto the sidewalk from the windows as we pass, almost like our own yellow brick road leading us home.

“Yellow.” I turn to look at his handsome face. “I think yellow is my favorite color.”

He leads us onto my street with a thoughtful smile. “I’ll remember that.”

I have no doubt he will. Nick seems like the type who commits every single factoid to memory. He remembered my tea order after only one time, after all.

“What’s yours?” I ask.

“Green,” he quickly replies. “Green like a forest canopy as the sunlight filters through it.”

“Had that full description ready to go, huh?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? You never know when you’re going to be asked such an important question.”

I study Nick’s grinning face, his comment reminding me that there’s still so much I don’t know about him. I know little bits and pieces—rebellious moments with his best friend as a child, the terrible accident, and now, his favorite color. But most of his life remains a mystery. I realized that when I caught him staring off into space while grabbing the cake container.

Even so, our dynamic feels so natural, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle sliding into place. I don’t feel rushed to peel back the layers that make Nick who he is. I don’t need to dig and dig to uncover skeletons in his closet. I don’t have to search for the red flags most people are hiding.

Nick is different.

“Tell me one more fact about you,” he says so softly I could almost pretend it’s a trick of the night.

I pause, thinking about something personal. “I collect snow globes from all the places I’ve been.”

Have I ever told anyone that before? I always assumed I’d be made fun of or told it was silly. But Nick just smiles, nodding his head as if physically committing my words to memory.

I clear my throat.

“I’ve cleared your schedule again tomorrow, so you have time to build the stage. Outside of any emergencies, you should be good to go,” I say as we approach my door.