How long can you lie to your mate?
Boris Gifford is one lucky wolf! A few months ago, he found his mate, which is a blessing. There is just one problem. Simon is human, and in his excitement, Boris might have charged right at him in his wolf form, scaring him half to death.
Since then, he’s worked himself into Simon and his son’s lives, using food as bribes. But Simon doesn’t trust easily, and he’s very protective of his son. The more time that passes, the more worried Boris gets. He has to tell Simon the truth, but Simon doesn’t believe in anything supernatural, he’s terrified of wolves, and he doesn't believe in soulmates.
Boris knows he has to come clean, but what if Simon rejects him when he realizes what he is?
“Zahrah.” I say her name, so she’ll know I’m serious.
“Yeah?”
“I asked him over for dinner in half an hour. What’s my best dish?”
“What! You did what?”
“Asked him to dinner, and the kid.” Ira, I have to remember his name. Simon will not be impressed if I forget.
“Slow down. You talked to him?”
I sigh. I don’t have time for lengthy explanations. “I was out in the garage.” I yank open the refrigerator. Pasta perhaps? It’s quick. “He turned in on the driveway, and then they sat in the car for ages. I walked over and knocked on the window. He looked ...” I didn’t know how to explain it. “Broken.”
“Broken?”
“Exhausted. Dejected. Miserable. I don’t know. Like all hope had left him.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, so I asked him to dinner.”
“And he accepted?” There is surprise in her voice.
“Eh ... not the first time I asked, or told him, but then I said he was breaking my heart, which he was, so he said yes.”
She groans, but I ignore her.
“So what do I cook? What’s child-friendly food?”
“Hmm. I don’t know.”
“Creamy broccoli pasta with loads of cheese?”
“Do kids eat broccoli?”
I open the freezer. I have broccoli. “Don’t they?”
“I don’t know. I asked you.”
“I have shredded chicken.” I grab the pack. “Pasta with chicken and spinach.” Luckily, I have a bag of fresh spinach in the fridge.
“Oh, the creamy one you do with pasta penne and Parmesan?”
I hum in reply and grab a bottle of white wine. I always add half a cup or so of dry white wine. “Do kids like wine?”
“Erm ... I think it’s illegal to serve them. Maybe that’s what will make you call me from jail, serving alcohol to children.”
“Idiot. I mean, I always have wine in the sauce, but maybe --”
“Make it like you normally make it. Can I come over? I’m hungry now.”
“No! You stay away. This is my first date with the love of my life, you’re not allowed to come along.”
She laughs. “But I can bring garlic bread.”
“I have garlic bread.” I yank open the freezer again. Thank fuck for garlic bread. Though ... “Do you think he’ll kiss me if I’ve had garlic bread?”
She’s quiet, and nerves swirl in my belly.
“Boris.” The tone tells me everything I need to know. Or not everything, but I know I won’t like what comes next. “I’m not sure there will be any kissing tonight.”
“But we’re on a date!”
“Does he know it’s a date? Does he know you’re gay? Is he gay?”
I’m frozen to the spot. “What do you mean?”
“Only, I know he’s your mate, and I don’t doubt you when you say he is. I’ve never seen you this obsessed, and you haven’t so much as looked at anyone since you first smelled him, but ... he has a kid. Normally, that means he’s been with a woman.”
It’s hard to breathe. “He’s mine. He has to ... like men. He might be bi, but he can’t be straight, Zahrah. He can’t.”
“Deep breaths. I’m not saying ... Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying, but he’s human. Human shifter matings are rare, and humans don’t feel the same pull we do. He doesn’t know you’re his. If he believes he’s straight, asking him and his child over for dinner one night won’t change how he sees himself. Maybe he thinks you mean it in a neighborly way.”
A neighborly way? What’s a neighborly way, and how do I avoid appearing as if it’s what I’m doing?
“Do I tell him it’s a date?”
“No!”
“No?” Why not?
“No, you need to play the long game here. You cannot be clingy, you hear me? Woo him with your cooking, it’s an ace up your sleeve. Get him addicted to your food. Listen when he talks and get to know him. And don’t forget the kid. No parent will want a partner who ignores their child.”
I nod. She’s right. I got carried away. I’ll have him in my home tonight. It’ll have to be enough for now. “Okay, I hear you.”
“Good. No kissing, and no showing your junk.”
But what if ... “If he --”
“No! He doesn’t know you’re his. You’ve been there for two months, and he’s never initiated conversation. He doesn’t want to see your dick tonight. You said he looked tired and heartbroken. Cock doesn’t help those things.”
I chuckle. “It might.” But she’s right. Simon needs someone to take care of him tonight.
“Don’t flirt.”
“What?” No flirting?
“The kid will be there. You have to, I don’t know, woo them both. It’s not like picking someone up from a bar. Ask about what they do in their spare time, what their plans are for Christmas, try to find out where the kid’s mother is, and so on.”
“Fiiine.”
“I have faith in you.”
“No, you don’t.”
