Aren takes the seat directly across from me, puts his plate down, and gives me an unreadable look. He waits for my response, and he’s not the only one.
After the tense moment we had in the bedroom, interrupted by my family’s sudden arrival, Aren quickly got up from his knees just before the bedroom door flew open and they burst in.
He asked for my forgiveness—begged for it—and I don’t know if I can.
“I’m fine to go for a run with Leo if he wants that,” I say.
“I have some time,” Aren responds.
Forgetting about finishing my delicious lunch, I focus on the alpha currently digging into his stack of chili dogs and fries.
He looks innocent.
He’s not.
I’m getting the distinct impression that he’s not above using a seven-year-old boy’s eagerness to go for a run as an opportunity to insert himself into my life.
“No one invited you,” I tell him.
“Leo doesn’t mind if I tag along, do you, Leo?” he asks Leo.
“I don’t mind,” Leo says happily.
Of course he doesn’t. He’s getting a run out of it. I’m getting a six-foot-plus alpha I neither want nor need.
Aren smiles at me, pleased. “See.”
My eyes narrow. “Don’t you have stuff to do? I thought you were Alpha here.”
“Like I said, I have some time.”
I open my mouth, but he keeps talking.
“And if anything should happen, Finan can manage it. Or he can howl if he needs me.”
I’m suddenly conscious of how quiet the dining room is.
When I look around, everyone finds a reason to look away.
My eyes return to Aren.
I start to complain when he picks up my plate and stands up before I can tell him I wasn’t finished yet.
My complaint dies on my lips as I watch him walk to the serving table, load two more chili dogs, five pieces of chicken, and more potato salad onto my plate before putting it down in front of me.
He went to get me more food.
My stomach happily grumbles as I look from the chicken to him.
The woman in me wants to tell him that fried chicken will not convince me to forgive him. The wolf in me is on her back, practically kicking her feet.
“You said you liked fried chicken,” he says gruffly, head down and digging into his meal.
It was a mistake to tell Aren that fried chicken was my favorite food.
My wolf is happy he remembered we like meat. Me? I’m conscious that this man will employ all tricks necessary to win my forgiveness, and I need to be wary.
Extremelywary.
