Jamie frowned at her friend’s abrupt tone.
“It’s… well, you said you’ve got the whole day off,” Willow fidgeted from one foot to the other, “and I’ve finished editing my latest video. I thought we could spend the day chilling out here, that’s all.”
“Okay, what’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“We’re besties. I know when you’re up to something.”
“Moi? Never.” Willow placed her palm on her chest, her expression anything but innocent.
“Tell me or I’ll make you drink that coffee.”
Willow chuckled. “No, no! Anything but that.”
“Well? I’m waiting. Come to think of it, it was odd that Harper gave me the day off today. What’s going on?”
Willow averted her gaze, looking at the many flowers Grayson had sent, the vases dotting every available worktop and shelf in her kitchen. “The flowers are still doing well, aren’t they?”
Okay, she was definitely up to something. Jamie played along. “Hmm, they are lovely, despite who sent them. I still can’t believe you spoke to Grayson that day.”
“You mean the day you had your hissy fit and left poor Cujo in the corridor?”
“I did not have a hissy fit. I gave Grayson Beckett a piece of my mind, nothing he didn’t deserve. End of.”
“Is it the end, Jamie? He’s apologised for his behaviour a million times, and he seems like a genuine guy.”
Jamie stared into her mug. Blobs of undissolved coffee granules floated on the top. Willow would have a pink fit if she knew she’d been speaking to a werewolf.
She had to admit, Grayson had gone to a lot of trouble, and after the way she’d insulted him again, she’d been surprised he’d hung around outside her flat long enough to talk to Willow that day.
He’d wound her up so much, she would have taken on his whole pack if it meant getting her ‘not interested’ message across, but why had she let him creep under her skin like that?
The Tiffany bracelet he’d tried to give her was stunning, but why had he got down on one knee? For one crazy, head-spinning moment, she’d seen the jewellery box and thought he was about to propose. How ridiculous was that? She didn’t even know him and yet he’d opened something inside that began to consider the possibility of sharing her life with someone again. After her wedding day fiasco, she’d vowed to spend her life on her own and she was happy with that, so why had a werewolf made her question her decision?
A niggling little voice had been plaguing her for a whole week now. Because I like him.
Jamie gulped her revolting coffee, staring at the vases full of flowers like she was in some kind of trance. Yes, the flowers were beautiful, and her flat had smelt like the Chelsea Flower Show all week. According to the delivery lady, Grayson had arranged to send her chocolates and champagne too—until she’d refused them. In hindsight, maybe that had been a tad rude.
If wasn’t as if she didn’t like receiving gifts, but there was such a thing as being excessive, and Grayson was way too extravagant. She added it to the long list of names she’d called him. Although she hated to admit it, she was intrigued by the sketches on the back of the cards, each one different and with such detail. Did he pay someone to draw them, or was he the artist? She recalled the pictures of a similar style in his home. If he did draw them, that changed things. It meant he’d put a lot of thought into the gifts, done something more personal, not just poured his money into them, and his repeated apologies had seemed genuine…
“Earth to Jamie!” Willow’s laughter brought her out of her trance.
“Sorry, zoned out there for a sec.”
“Hmm, I bet you did.” Willow waggled her eyebrows. “What were you thinking about to put that smile on your face? Or maybe I should say, who?”
“I wasn’t thinking of anyone.” Her cheeks warmed. She focused. “Wait, you said Grayson seems like a genuine guy, as in present tense.” She narrowed her eyes at Willow. “I’ll ask again; what’s going on?”
“I have a bit of a confession to make. Promise you won’t thump me?”
“What have you done, Willow?”
“I talked to Grayson.”
“Yeah, you told me. Last week after my hissy fit, as you called it.” When she’d been so flustered by Grayson she’d left poor Cujo in the corridor with him.
“No. I’ve been kind of talking to him since then, too.”
Jamie’s chest tightened. “When? How?”
“He somehow got my phone number and called me.” Her friend took a deep breath. “He’s coming here. Today.”
Her heart pounded like tribal drums inside her ribcage. Today? “What for?”
“He wants to take you out for the day, but only if it’s okay with you.”
“You set me up? I can’t believe you’d do that, Willow. You know how much I hate him.”
Willow shook her head. “No, you don’t. It’s so obvious you like him. You’ve been talking about him non-stop all week.”
“I have not. Okay, maybe I have, but only because he’s so damn infuriating.”
“Admit it, Jamie, you have the serious hots for him, and I don’t blame you. The guy’s gorgeous.”
Yeah, and a dangerous werewolf.
“If I’m wrong, I’ll text him now and call the whole thing off,” Willow continued, reaching for her phone.
“You set me up,” Jamie repeated.
“Only because you’re my bestie and I love you.” Willow smiled softly. “You can’t live your life hating men forever, Jamie. Give Grayson a chance. The guy made one mistake, that’s all.”
Jamie hesitated. Her head told her no, but her fluttering stomach said something else. “But he’s not who you think he is.” Sometimes she wished she could tell her friend about the supernatural world, but Willow wouldn’t believe it.
“One date, that’s all he’s asking.”
She vented a sigh. “Okay. Where’s he taking me?”
Willow did her stupid, spin-around dance, the one she did when she was excited. “Eeek,” she screamed. “You’re going to go? I’m so happy for you!”
Cujo yapped around her ankles as if he was in on the set up too. Jamie grinned as she tipped her coffee down the sink. “Both of you are traitors, you know that?”
“See? Even Cujo likes him.”
“What time is he coming?” she asked, attempting indifference and failing. She turned the tap to rinse the ditch-water coffee down the plughole.
Willow glanced at the kitchen clock. “In about five minutes.”
“What!” Her pulse rate hit the ceiling. Jamie turned the tap the wrong way and water splashed over her sweatshirt, soaking it. She turned off the spray of water and swore as she looked down at her top; an old one from years back, with Team Jacob printed on the front. Worse still, there was a wolf pawprint on the back, with the word imprinted underneath. Was that even a thing? What if Grayson had… A werewolf would be here in five minutes, a real one, not one from the movies, who she’d had a daft crush on back then. She’d once stayed up the whole night, binge-watching every Twilight film in succession. She spun to face her friend. “Oh my God, I have to change! My hair’s a mess. I have to put makeup on—”
Willow laughed. “Calm down, woman. You look great.”
She skirted around her friend and headed towards her bedroom. “Quick, help me find something to wear. Where’s he taking me anyway?”
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me,” Willow said, following her.
“Huh, fat lot of good you are.” She rummaged frantically through the racks of clothes, not finding anything suitable. Suitable for what? She imagined Grayson would take her to some posh, Michelin star restaurant, flashing his cash again. Jamie stopped. What the hell am I doing? The guy was an arrogant, overgrown dog… with a wicked smile that made her legs turn to jelly.
Her doorbell rang. She pulled out her hairband and raked her fingers through the tangled strands. “He’s here already?”
Willow�
��s amused expression only made things worse. “I haven’t seen you this jittery for a long time. I knew you liked him. Do you want me to get the door?”
“No, I’ll get it. You’ve done enough damage already.”
Jamie ran to the door, then stopped as she reached the hall. She couldn’t let Grayson see her sweatshirt—anything but that. She pulled it over her head and threw it behind her, narrowly missing Cujo, his tail wagging. Her hand on the door handle, she took a moment to compose herself. With Willow hardly giving her any notice of his visit, he’d have to take her as he found her, slouchy tee, old jeans and barely any makeup.
She blew out a breath. At least she wasn’t caked in orange foundation this time.
Jamie opened the door, anticipation fizzing in her belly.
Chapter Seven
Grayson waited outside her door, for once in his life having no idea what to expect. He could only hope Willow had managed to convince Jamie to at least speak to him, but it might have gone the other way and set off that temper of hers again. Her sharp tongue? She could slice bread with that.
He shook his head in despair, questioning his sanity at putting himself through this. ‘Give her time and then be yourself, Grayson,’ Alice had said when he’d returned home after the last lot of abuse Jamie had hurled at him. His aunt had been his confidant and his friend for as long as he could remember, and he trusted her more than any member of his pack, so he’d listened to her advice when she’d told him to wait a week, even though the time had dragged.
But now he was here.
In haste, he propped the package he’d brought for her against the wall next to her door. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea after all, considering her refusal to accept his other gifts, but this one was special. He’d spent days perfecting the drawing of Cujo, but he’d done it from memory and hoped he’d captured her dog’s personality in the sketch too.
The door opened.
“Hello.” Jamie didn’t smile. What he wouldn’t give to see her smile.
“Hi, Jamie. I…” Heck, now what?
Awkward silence followed. He tried his best not to stare at her, dressed in jeans that moulded to her thighs like a second skin. She blinked back at him, her huge emerald eyes holding him spellbound. Caramel-coloured hair hung loosely around her slight shoulders and framed her pretty face. Perfect, smooth skin the colour of ivory, with not a hint of that orange stuff she had on the first time he’d met her.
Wow, she’s stunning.
For the life of him, he couldn’t work out if she looked pleased or angry to see him.
Tension filled the air between them, heavy and thick.
She fiddled with a strand of hair, drawing his attention to her neck, pale ivory too. He had a sudden urge to bury his head in the curve between her shoulder and neck, breathe in her scent as he kissed her skin.
He cleared his throat. “I… err, did Willow tell you I was coming?” he asked, desperate to break the silence.
“Yes, she mentioned it.”
Nothing. Her expression showed not even a hint of a clue as to what was going on inside her head.
She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, but had he expected anything else?
Cujo ran past her and straight to him, a welcome distraction. The dog wagged his tail, his little body wiggling in excitement as he pawed at his ankle.
Grayson bent down and scooped him up with one hand. “Hey there, Cujo. How are you, little fellow?” He made a fuss of the dog, tickling his ears and letting him lick his hand. He glanced at Jamie and half-smiled. “At least someone’s pleased to see me,” he said, keeping his tone light.
Her expression softened a fraction, and a ghost of a smile played on her lips.
Grayson put the dog down and reached for the picture. He’d framed it himself too—nothing fancy; a simple black frame, his small sketch of Cujo mounted in the centre of a wide cream surround. “I’d like you to have this.” He handed her the picture and held his breath.
Jamie took it, her pretty eyebrows crinkling into a frown.
He swallowed. “I made it myself.”
Surprise flashed across her features. “You made it?”
“It’s a kind of a peace offering, not a gift, since you don’t like those…”
She tore the plain paper slowly. “It’s not that I didn’t like the flowers you sent, it’s just—” Jamie stopped mid-sentence as she revealed his drawing. She stared at it for a good few moments, her mouth slightly open. “You drew this?” she asked, glancing up at him. “And the sketches on the cards that came with the flowers?”
“Yeah, a hobby of mine, but if you don’t like it…?”
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, a wobble to her voice. Her eyes glistened.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She dabbed her finger on her eyelashes and blew out a breath. “Thank you.”
He hadn’t expected that. He hoped she would like it, but he hadn’t imagined it would evoke such emotion in her. She seemed genuinely touched. “So I’m forgiven?”
Her soft smile tugged at his heartstrings. “No promises, Grayson, but you’ve earned yourself a second chance. One date; and only because my dog and my best friend seem to like you.”
He grinned. He’d draw her a hundred pictures to see that smile.
Willow appeared behind Jamie. “Hi, Grayson.” She peered over Jamie’s shoulder at the picture. “Oh, it’s Cujo. That’s amazing. Who drew it?”
“Speak of the devil,” Jamie said to her friend. “Grayson drew it. We’ve been over that.”
Willow raised her perfectly painted eyebrows. “Did he now?” She winked at Jamie. “I’ll leave you two to it then,” she said, skirting around Jamie towards him. “Bye, Jamie, and have some fun for a change.”
He stood back to let her pass. “Thank you for everything, Willow.”
“You’re welcome.”
Grayson returned his attention to Jamie. She was staring at the picture again.
“I suppose you better come in then. Willow only gave me five minutes’ notice and I was about to get changed.”
So she’d already decided to give him a chance, even before he gave her the picture. “You look perfect as you are,” he told her.
“What, in these old jeans? Where are you taking me anyway?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She pulled a face, then turned to walk along her hallway. Cujo ran off ahead. “That’s not helpful. If we’re going to some expensive restaurant—”
“We’re not, but I am taking you out for lunch,” he said, closing the door and following her. His gaze flitted downwards, taking in the way her tight jeans clung to her petite yet shapely backside.
His foot caught on something and he tripped. He reached for a side table for support.
Jamie turned as an ornament toppled over the edge, but with his enhanced speed, Grayson caught it before it smashed to the ground. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.
“Lucky you have such quick reactions.” She propped the picture of Cujo against the wall, took the ornament from him and placed it carefully back on the table. “It was a present from my late father.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, feeling like an idiot.
“Don’t be. He was clumsy too.”
“I’m not clumsy. I got distra—” he stopped himself. He could hardly tell her what distracted him. “I got my foot caught on this.” He picked up what he’d tripped on; a sweatshirt lying in a heap on the floor. He went to hand it to her.
Jamie’s beautiful eyes widened, making them even bigger. Her porcelain cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she grabbed at the clothing and attempted to snatch it from his grasp. “Err… thanks. I don’t know what that’s doing there.”
Something about her mortified expression piqued his interest. Grayson held on to it and took a closer look, holding it up. He arched an eyebrow as he read Team Jacob printed on the front. He’d
watched the teen film once, purely to see how they’d portrayed werewolves, of course.
She swiped at it again, her cheeks crimson now. “Give it here.”
He turned the sweatshirt, laughter erupting from his chest as he spotted the huge pawprint on the back. “Oh, it gets even better.”
Her lips curved at the corners. “You weren’t meant to see that. Give it to me.” She attempted a tug-of-war with the sweatshirt.
“I’m enjoying this far too much to give it back,” he mocked.
She tugged again, but he didn’t let go. “Grayson! Let go or the date is off.”
Her tinkling laughter was like a soft melody in his ears.
“Not until you explain.”
Jamie gave up with the tug-of-war. “Okay, you got me. It’s an old top, and I had a thing for werewolves back then,” she admitted. “I was just a kid, before my mum married a warlock and I found out werewolves exist for real.”
He had wondered. “What about now you know of our world?” Grayson held her gaze. “Do you still have a thing for werewolves?”
She shook her head and laughed. “I walked headlong into that one, didn’t I? I must be crazy letting Willow set me up with you. You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“Infuriating? I suppose it’s an improvement on the other names you’ve called me.”
She regarded him for a moment, her expression serious now. “I’m sorry. You wound me up and sometimes I say stuff before my brain catches up.”
“I’m sorry about everything too.” He couldn’t apologise any more. It was up to her now.
The slightest nod of her head warmed his heart.
“How about we start again?” she said.
“Best thing I’ve heard all day, but you still didn’t answer my question.” He grinned. “Do you still have a thing for werewolves, or not?”
Jamie crossed her arms, her eyes glinting with amusement. “If I did, you’d know about it, alpha.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are you going to take me out, or what?”
If that was some kind of challenge, bring it on. “You bet I am. Come on.”
“But I need to change.”
Dating a Werewolf Page 5