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  Bree knew without looking it was Kevin Lawrence. Brandon and Kevin had been best friends since kindergarten, and he was one of the rocks in her son’s life after her ex had gone postal and killed a man. While she’d been at her son’s side through it all, there were some things boys never wanted to talk to their mother about. Discovering your dad was a murderer and would be in prison for years was one of those things. Kevin had been there for Brandon and supported him through it all.

  But as good a friend as Kevin was, there was some stuff Bree didn’t like about him. The biggest one being the fact that Kevin was the reason Brandon had been in that convenience store in the very worst part of Dallas the night he’d been shot. Brandon had insisted they’d only gone in to get some sodas, but she was sure they’d been there looking to buy drugs, and that Kevin had talked him into it.

  She wanted to tell Brandon to stop hanging out with Kevin but couldn’t. Her son could be both stubborn and independent—traits he’d no doubt gotten from her—and she was smart enough to know giving him an ultimatum would push him away. She only prayed Brandon had learned something from the entire horrible situation and wouldn’t do anything that stupid again.

  A moment later, Brandon stomped into the kitchen, shoes untied and a goofy smile on his face when he saw Diego. Beside her son, Kevin eyed him curiously. A little shorter than Brandon, he was wiry like her son but with blond hair and blue eyes.

  He gave her a nod. “Hey, Ms. Harlow.”

  “Hey, Diego,” Brandon said before she could greet either of them or introduce Diego. “Dinner smells great, Mom. Kevin and I are going to play Fortnite, so can we just take some plates of food to my room?”

  Bree’s first instinct was to say no and remind her son that they had a guest for dinner—a guest who’d saved his life and was planning to teach him how to be a werewolf—but she bit her tongue. With Kevin there, they couldn’t very well talk about the werewolf thing over dinner, which meant there’d be nothing of interest to two teenage boys.

  She set the glass on the counter, amazed at what she’d just said to herself.

  Her son was a werewolf.

  Diego was a werewolf.

  If dinner tonight turned into something more between her and the hunky SWAT cop, she’d be dating a real-life werewolf.

  It was like some crazy dream. But instead of freaking her out, it was as though the pieces that had left her confused for what seemed like the longest time were finally falling into place. All because she and Brandon and gone into that diner yesterday and Diego had walked into their lives.

  “Of course, honey.” She smiled at her son. “Grab one of the plates off the table while I get another for Kevin. Wash your hands while I take dinner out of the oven—both of you.”

  As her son and his friend moved over to the sink, Brandon introduced Kevin to Diego, saying he was the police officer who’d saved their lives at the diner yesterday. Bree smiled as she listened to the three of them talk. Diego got huge brownie points with both Brandon and Kevin when he got into a conversation with them about Fortnite while she piled their plates with food. Brandon could go on for hours about his favorite game, and after listening to them discuss the various levels and fastest way to get there, something told her Diego could, too.

  The moment she was done with their plates, Brandon and Kevin disappeared into his bedroom, shoveling food into their mouths before they closed the door.

  “I hope I made enough for dinner,” she said as Diego helped her carry everything to the table. “I’ve seen how much Brandon has started eating lately, and figured you’d eat more, so I kind of went a little crazy.”

  “Don’t worry,” Diego said with a chuckle, setting the big bowl of linguine on the table next to the basket of garlic bread. “In my opinion, you can never have too many carbs.”

  “Spoken like a man who’s never had to worry about fitting in his jeans,” she muttered.

  She placed three big pieces of breaded chicken covered in marinara sauce and gooey mozzarella on his plate, then put one on hers. She did the same with the pasta, serving him enough linguine for two people while giving herself a tiny bit. She’d make up for it with salad and the chocolate cake she’d made—which didn’t count as a carb as far as she was concerned. In fact, cake was in its own special food group and therefore could be eaten in unlimited quantity. Like cabbage or broccoli, except it tasted better.

  Across from her, Diego lifted his glass of wine in a toast. “To first dates…and whatever comes after.”

  Bree touched her glass to his with a smile. That was a sentiment she could definitely get behind. “To dinner. And whatever comes after.”

  The red wine was sweet with just a touch of a bite and went perfectly with the Italian dinner she’d made. She couldn’t have picked anything better herself.

  “I’m assuming Brandon’s friend doesn’t know he’s a werewolf?” Diego asked as he cut into the chicken.

  Even though Brandon’s room was at the far end of the apartment, that didn’t keep her from glancing in that direction anyway, afraid he and Kevin might overhear.

  “I guess that answers that question.” Diego chuckled. “Don’t worry. They’re both wearing headsets and buried in the game. They won’t hear anything short of an elephant stampede.”

  Bree relaxed. Brandon could definitely get lost while playing his video games. Pretty much the same way he did when he was listening to music.

  “We talked about it yesterday after leaving the compound and decided Kevin isn’t someone we could share a secret like that with,” she said, answering the question even if Diego already figured it out. “He’s Brandon’s best friend and has been forever, but even my son realizes Kevin could never keep a secret like this.” She made a face. “I feel horrible about it, but we haven’t told Beth, either. She’s always tied to her convictions about how the world works. I don’t want to think about how much she’d freak out if she found out werewolves exist.”

  “I know what you mean.” He paused to take a big bite of chicken, chewing appreciatively. “My brother and sisters know about me, but not my mom or stepdad. They’d both pass out if they found out I have claws and fangs.”

  She almost laughed when he practically moaned after tasting the garlic bread and pasta. Even the salad seemed to really work for him.

  “This is incredible,” he said, spearing another piece of chicken with his fork. “I haven’t eaten Italian food this good in a long time. I feel a little bad that you went to all this work for me, though. This has to take hours to make.”

  This time, she did laugh. “I’d like to take credit for going all out—you did save our lives, after all. But honestly, it’s what I would have made for dinner tonight anyway. I simply made more. So, it wasn’t a big deal.”

  He let out a deep chuckle. “Spoken like a woman who doesn’t eat takeout from fast-food places most nights.”

  Bree paused with a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth to take in all those muscles on the other side of the table, finding it impossible to believe Diego got a body like that living on cheeseburgers and fries. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.” He twirled some pasta on his fork. “I eat a lot of junk food.”

  “Okay, let’s say I believe that. How can you be so…fit?”

  “I’m a werewolf. My metabolism works overtime.”

  She shook her head. “Well, that’s just patently unfair.”

  The thought that he could look like that and practically live on junk food boggled the mind. She wanted to ask about other ways he was different from a regular person but decided that might be a little too personal to jump into right away. Instead, she changed the subject to something that had been in the back of her mind most of the day.

  “I saw a news story from that reporter, Hobbs, today when I was scrolling on my phone,” she said. “It was mostly about the guy who took us hostage in the
diner and what happened, but he also mentioned the call you went on at a bank yesterday. He said there was a confrontation between three armed men and your SWAT team and that one of the cops was injured. Whoever it was, I hope he’s okay.”

  She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. The thought of anyone on his team getting hurt worried her, but the idea of Diego in particular being in harm’s way terrified her so much she could barely breathe. It was crazy since she barely knew him, but it was true all the same.

  On the other side of the table, Diego stopped eating and picked up his wineglass, then took a slow sip.

  “When we texted back and forth last night, you didn’t say anything about anyone getting hurt, so I was wondering if Hobbs got that part of the story wrong,” she added.

  Diego set down his glass, meeting her gaze. The look in his dark eyes made her heart beat out of control all of a sudden.

  “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to worry, but we did end up engaging with the suspects and one of us did get shot,” he said.

  “Oh God!” Her hand tightened on her fork. “Who?”

  How could Diego sit there so calmly talking about this? She felt like her heart was racing at breakneck speed right now.

  “It was me,” he said, his voice so casual it was like he was confessing to eating the last chocolate chip cookie. He must have seen the look of alarm on her face because he quickly added, “But it was only a little nick on the shoulder. It barely bled at all.”

  Bree set down her fork on her plate with a clatter. “You got shot! Why are you sitting here and not in the hospital?”

  Diego held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Bree, calm down. I’m fine. See?”

  Unbuttoning two more buttons on his shirt, he pulled it to the side to expose his right shoulder. Bree gaped at the expanse of muscles on his upper chest and shoulder he treated her to, only to stare in disbelief the next second at the line of pink scar tissue there. Regardless of what he’d said about it being little more than a scratch, she was still surprised to see that the wound was closed up, like it was days—maybe even weeks—old.

  “Werewolves heal faster than humans,” he said, slipping his shirt back over his shoulder and buttoning it. “I didn’t mention it to you last night because getting shot isn’t a big deal for us and I didn’t want you to freak out.”

  Like she had a few minutes ago. But he was nice enough not to remind her.

  Her head still spun at the thought of him healing from a gunshot wound in the space of a few hours. She didn’t know why she was having a hard time with this, especially since she’d bought the entire werewolf thing so easily. Then again, maybe all of the insanity was finally catching up to her.

  Bree picked up her fork and absently pushed her pasta around on her plate. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this world I’ve suddenly found myself in. Alphas and betas, fangs and claws, wounds that heal overnight. It’s a lot to take in.” She looked at him. “Was it like that for you in the beginning?”

  He picked up his own fork with a shrug. “If you want to know the truth, you and Brandon are handling all of this way better than I did. I thought I was going insane and that the people who kept insisting they knew what was happening were crazy, too.”

  “Were you already in SWAT when you turned into a werewolf?”

  Diego ate a forkful of salad, considering her question. A vision of a werewolf à la Lon Chaney Jr. eating salad popped into her head, and she had a sudden urge to laugh. But didn’t.

  “No,” he said, spearing a juicy cherry tomato. “Funny thing was, I talked to Hale about trying out for SWAT the night I got shot. He was already on the team, only I didn’t know he was a werewolf back then. He and the rest of the Pack took me under their wing and taught me what it meant to be a werewolf.”

  She lifted a forkful of pasta to her mouth, and they both ate in silence for a while.

  “What happened the night you were shot?” she asked softly, not sure it was something he wanted to talk about or even something she wanted to hear, but something told her it was important she did. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

  He took a bite of garlic bread and chewed slowly. Bree had no idea why she liked watching him eat, but she did. His mouth was mesmerizing.

  “You know those books that always start out with ‘It was a dark and stormy night?’” he said. “Well, that’s exactly what it was like when I got a call for a disturbance at a club down on Harry Hines.”

  Diego paused, his beautiful eyes taking on a slightly distracted look as he pulled up the memories. Bree sat riveted, barely remembering to eat as he recounted the story about how he’d rescued a trio of women from some a-holes, getting shot three times and stabbed once. Tears stung her eyes as he told her how he felt like he’d failed the woman who’d been injured when he’d fallen to the floor and couldn’t get back up. When he’d told her about how Hale had growled at him, telling him to keep fighting, a few of those tears rolled down her cheeks.

  She wiped them away with her fingers. “Was the girl okay?”

  Diego set down his knife and fork on his empty plate with a nod. “Yeah. She was in the hospital for a while, but she was okay. She stills sends me a Christmas card every year.”

  Bree’s lips curved. “Did anyone ever figure out why those guys went after the girls to begin with?”

  Diego shook his head. “No. One of the suspects died at the scene, and the other refused to talk. He ended up getting a sentence of twenty-five to life without ever offering up any explanation.”

  She frowned. “So, one man ended up dead, those women’s lives got turned upside down, and you ended up becoming a werewolf and no one knows why those wackos did it?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes it happens that way. Things happen and we never know why. All we can do is pick ourselves up, keep going, and do the best we can not to let the experience color the way we look at the world.”

  She finished the last of her chicken, then set down her knife and fork. “Are you still talking about dealing with weirdos who do insane things, or have we drifted into a conversation about dealing with becoming a werewolf?”

  “Maybe a little of both.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry, but I guess I get a little philosophical after a good meal.”

  She laughed. “If that’s the case, I wonder how introspective you’ll get after dessert because I made chocolate cake. Hope you’re still hungry.”

  Diego flashed her a grin. “I never say no to chocolate or cake.”

  Pushing back her chair, she leaned over to pick up his empty plate, but he waved her off, taking hers out of her hand and picking up his own, along with the salad bowls.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

  “Maybe not, but I want to.” He placed the plates and bowls on the counter, then opened the dishwasher. “You made a fantastic dinner. The least I can do is help clean up.”

  Bree watched out of the corner of her eye as he rinsed off the plates and put them in the dishwasher while she took the chocolate cake out of the fridge. A hunky guy like him helping out in the kitchen, and on the first date no less? Her mom would tell her to marry him immediately if not sooner.

  Laughing to herself at that idea, she cut two slices of the moist chocolate cake with loads of creamy frosting, making sure to give Diego an extra big one.

  “I thought we could have dessert in the living room,” she said, nodding toward the couch. “More comfortable in there.”

  “Comfortable is good,” he agreed, the sudden heat in his dark eyes unmistakable as he picked up their glasses of wine and gestured for her to lead the way.

  Chapter 6

  Diego tried not to stare at Bree’s butt swaying gracefully in front of him as she walked into the living room, but it was impossible. Like everything else about her, it was simply capti
vating.

  He picked up the bottle of wine and their two partially filled glasses on the way. As he did so, he couldn’t help but admit that he’d been enthralled the moment he’d walked through the door. He’d smelled the Italian food cooking before he reached the fourth floor, but his interest in food had taken a back seat as soon as Bree’s hypnotizing strawberry-vanilla scent hit him. It had nearly brought him to his knees. And when she’d opened the door and he’d seen her standing there in that little black dress that showed off her kissable shoulders, a hint of inviting décolletage, and a tantalizing glimpse of her long, toned legs, it had taken everything in him to keep from kissing her. Especially since he found himself immediately fantasizing about those parts of her body underneath her dress, his heart thumping and mouth watering at the image.

  It had been great seeing Brandon again, as well as meeting Beth and Kevin, but it was sitting across from Bree during dinner that had been the amazing part of the evening. And yeah, the food was pretty damn incredible, too.

  Diego refilled both their glasses before setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table and taking a seat on the sofa with her, making sure to leave some space between them even though his inner wolf begged him to sit closer.

  Bree then leaned forward and picked up the plates, handing one to him with a smile. Diego eagerly lifted a forkful to his mouth and almost moaned. It was supremely moist and the ratio of chocolate frosting to cake was perfection. If the chicken parmesan and linguine had been amazing—and it was—then the dessert was world-changing.

  He was still wrapped up in all that ooey-gooey chocolaty goodness when he realized Bree was sitting there with an amused expression on her face. He resisted the urge to look down at his shirt to make sure he hadn’t dumped frosting on it.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” Her lips curved. “I like it when a man enjoys himself.”

  The words would have been rather innocent if not for the heat in her gaze and the subtle change in her scent making those strawberry and vanilla tones even sweeter. Forcing himself to focus on something other than Bree’s scent, he took another bite of cake, then washed it down with some wine. Red wine and chocolate cake went together much better than he would have thought. Like he’d planned it.