“Oh. Um, thank you.”
The pause that followed had weight and texture, the scent of Kendrick’s skin and the hitch of his breath, the soft shush of my feet on the hardwood floor as I took a step back out of temptation range.
Larissa said, “Can you be the wolf-dog again before you leave? Pu-leeease?” She folded her hands and did something that was probably meant to be batting her eyelashes but looked more like her eyelids were trying to breakdance.
“Oh, my God, Larissa.” Kendrick choked. “Who taught you to do that?”
“Emily. Her big sister said daddies fall for it all the time.”
I couldn’t help laughing but tried to ease any sting by saying, “I really wish I could, hon. But I need a bit of rest and some food before I can shift again.”
“You could have some of my candy.” She hurried to dig in the bag she’d dropped in the entry and brought back a wrapped candy bar. “Here. Wait. Can wolves have chocolate? Because dogs can’t.”
“Luckily, werewolves can. At least in human form.” I made a show of opening the treat and taking a bite. “Yum, that hits the spot.”
“It has peanut butter,” she said. “I don’t like peanut butter. You can have all of them.”
“I love peanut butter,” I told her, finishing the mini bar. “But one is enough. I haven’t had dinner and I wouldn’t want to spoil it.” I turned to Kendrick, who held out his hand for the wrapper. Our fingers brushed as I gave it to him. Might’ve been on purpose, although whose, I wasn’t sure. “I hope your dad can lend me a pair of pants to wear home.”
Kendrik raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t think any pants I own will fit your thighs and butt.” A hint of color flushed his high cheekbones at the admission he’d been looking, before we got me decent.
I grinned. I could’ve said he was no slouch in the butt department, but there was a child present. Anyway, his lean elegance against my bulk meant he was right about the relative size of our thighs. Probably waists too. Pants might be problematic.
Turning to his daughter, Kendrick said, “Why don’t you take your candy to the kitchen and spread it out on the table so we can look it over before you eat any?”
“All right, but if Mr. Trent becomes a wolf, I want to see him.” She scooped up the bag and trotted out.
Kendrik lowered his tone as she went out of sight. “Sorry. I wasn’t flirting.”
“I don’t mind flirting,” I told him at the same volume.
“Really? No wife and kids at home?”
“No. You? Spouse, I mean, because obviously you have Larissa.” The scents I’d picked up couldn’t rule out a significant other off on deployment.
His lips twisted ruefully. “Not for years. But werewolves all marry women, right? I thought I saw some documentary. That’s how you have kids.”
I winced at being the subject of a documentary, but perhaps it was good he knew something about my people. At least he’d know my identity was genetic, and he hadn’t asked if sucking my dick might’ve turned him into a werewolf. I explained, “Straight wolves marry human women. I’m gay, but among the packs that’s still… complicated.”
I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t even out, but he must’ve caught some hint in my voice, because he said, “I’m sorry. I’m gold-star gay too, if that helps.”
“I figured at least bi, given last time.” My dick hitting his tonsils had been a pretty big clue. I wanted to ask why he’d looked so sour about a boyfriend or husband, but it was really none of my business. “Larissa’s super cute,” I noted. “Is it my imagination, or does she look a lot like you?”
He glanced away before replying, “Yeah, she’s mine.” Then turning back, he offered in a determinedly bright tone, “Hey, we have leftovers from dinner. You said you need to eat. Want some beef stew?”
My wolf practically sat up and begged. “If you don’t mind me sitting at your table in just this poncho, that would be awesome. You had me at leftovers, and I’d kill for beef stew.” I hurried to add, “Metaphorically, of course.”
That made him smile. “Of course. Come on, then.”
Kendrick shut the front door and led the way back to a tidy, open kitchen. Larissa had her candy arrayed on a round table and stood in front of the piles, busy dividing up the loot into groups. When we came in, she looked up and smiled. “I got lots and lots, and the bad boys didn’t get any of it. See, Daddy?”
“Good job, hon.” Kendrick murmured aside to me, “I want to hear all about those boys later,” as he headed to the fridge.
I gave him a tiny nod and leaned against the counter, across the table from Larissa. “What are the candy groups?” I asked her.
“This one’s my favorites.” She pointed to a small pile of chocolate bars. “These other ones are good and these are okay. These are Frankie’s favorites so I’ll bring them to school on Monday and she’ll bring me Hershey’s ’cause she doesn’t like those. And these are the icky peanut butter. You can have them.” She slid a small heap my way.
Kendrick said from where he was putting a bowl in the microwave, “Now remember, hon, let me look at all the wrappers before you eat anything.”
