to eat. Damn wolf. “Really, only parents call me that or grandparents. Don’t categorize yourself in that group of people. You might be two hundred and fifty some odd years old, but please.”
“It’s a really nice name,” he said between bites of his first steak. “But fine, Jacky it is and will stay.” He chuckled. “So, what else…”
“There’s not much to know,” I reminded him. “Imagine my twin and put me a few steps below her for everything—heart surgeon - EMT, high school sweetheart with three kids - lonely werecat with a dead fiancé.” I snorted. “I love her, though. I was always proud of her.”
“Sounds like you resent her,” Heath pointed out mildly, the accusation softened but not ineffective.
“I resent me,” I explained. “I resent I never did those things. I was never…as motivated, as dedicated, as…perfect as her. No, she’s an inspiration, and I resent myself for never pushing myself to her level.”
“You have years to figure it out,” he said gently. “More than her now.”
“Yeah. That’s something, I guess. Sorry, this went off the beaten path. I’m feeling a bit whiny and mopey recently, I guess.” With everything going on, the concept of living up to my siblings and my family’s reputation weighed down too heavily. “I went from her to…well, them.”
His smile was friendly. “No, life didn’t get easier for you, that’s certain.”
“Did you have siblings?” I asked, trying to push the conversation off my woes.
“I had a brother who died early in the Revolution. A sister who married and went to London. She was for the monarchy, and it caused a rift. I didn’t keep track of her or her family, but I hope she lived a good life.”
“I’m sorry for both of them.”
We sat quietly after that, eating our food without bothering each other. As plates were cleaned, we stacked them up to keep the mess from becoming obscene. The steaks were good quality and a perfect medium rare. The veggies were fine, though I continued to think they needed more seasoning.
“Do you want to hit the bar? We can talk a bit about the area…” Heath sounded cautious, but why I didn’t know. “You won’t have to serve the drinks.”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Shoving away from the table, he followed behind me. At least we could relax on the trip in the evenings. Too bad it didn’t make me feel any less stir crazy.
14
Chapter Fourteen
The bar was damn near empty. Only two businessmen, I assumed by the suits, were sitting at the bar proper. I pointed to a small corner table. Between the distance and the music, our conversation would go uninterrupted and unheard.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked, leaning over me, his hand finding my lower back. I tensed, feeling the warmth through my shirt. Instead of removing the hand, he curled slightly, acknowledging he knew what he was doing. “Darlin’, what do you want to drink?” His Southern accent grew heavier, and there was an intimacy in his tone.
I picked up on it quickly and hissed softly. “A whiskey, but this is completely unnecessary.”
“I’m just trying to make the humans think we’re nothing important.”
“And if a wolf sees us? Or anything else?” I snapped, stepping away from him. “Last thing we need is to give the impression we’re something when we aren’t.”
“Fine.” He raised his hands and walked to the bar.
I took my chance to get to the table and made sure there were only two chairs, and they were far apart. I refused to think about how his hand had felt…good. Warm and comfortable, just like when he tended my injuries. Gentle, just like every time he touched me, moments I could count on one hand and recall with perfect clarity.
I slid into my seat and sighed. I didn’t need to get snappy with him. When he came to the table with our drinks, I took mine with a quiet thank you.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “When I’m with other wolves, we try to act…like something human. Guys out to watch the game when we don’t care. That kind of thing.”
“I’m not used to being touched,” I quietly explained. “It’s not bad thinking, though. I just…I’m not a wolf, Heath.”
“You’re right.” He sipped on his beer, and I reached out to pull my whiskey closer. For a while, we concentrated on our drinks. Heath shifted in his seat, and I wondered if his frame was too bulky to feel comfortable on the bar stool. I never saw him act uncomfortable at