The Werewolf Dates The Deputy - Kristen Painter Page 0,27
ate, keeping the talk light. The steaks were good, the salad was…salad, and before long, they were cleaning up.
She gave him a quick smile. “Thanks for cooking.”
“Seemed fair since you provided the steaks. And the salad.”
“Which you actually ate some of.”
“Only to be polite.” He laughed. “Kidding. It was good. Bridget makes me eat salad sometimes. You dry if I wash?”
“You don’t have a dishwasher?”
“I do, but I don’t think I’ve ever used it.”
She snorted. “Come on, I’ll teach you. Not that you need to run it for such a small amount of dishes, but with two of us here, you will soon enough.”
They carried everything inside, and he pointed out the appliance in question. “There you go. I think the buttons are on the inside.”
She opened it and saw the controls on the top of the door. Then she peered inside the unit. The manufacturer’s energy tag was still hanging from the top rack. She yanked it off and looked at him. “You really haven’t used this before.”
“Told you.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Three years.”
That was interesting. She’d assumed he’d lived here longer. “That’s not what I would have guessed.”
He shrugged. “It’s nice to be close to family.”
But why had it taken him three years to move up here? He’d been the fire chief for longer than that.
Then it hit her. A new house closer to his brother. A porch swing he never used. He hadn’t built this house for himself.
He’d built it for his fiancée.
And just like that, Jenna had sympathy for him. She didn’t want to feel that way toward him, but there it was.
The longer she was here, the more she grew to like him. To see him as a friend and not a foe.
A hundred feet of distance had never been so close.
Titus was as ready to run as a shifter could be. He itched with the need, especially because he’d come to a hard realization in the kitchen. Being around Jenna so much meant conversation. It was impossible to avoid if they were going to be civil, which he definitely wanted them to be.
But conversation required revealing small parts of himself.
That was a dangerous path. He wasn’t used to talking to anyone about things from his past. Hank and Bridget understood that there were topics better left unspoken. He preferred it that way.
But Jenna didn’t know that unwritten rule. And he was quickly discovering that even harmless conversations had a way of moving into personal territory without warning.
First, she’d asked about the porch swing. Then they’d verged dangerously close when they’d hit upon the subject of dating. Sooner or later, Jenna would probably come right out and ask about Zoe.
Women did that. He knew from Bridget and Birdie just how much they loved to talk about past relationships. If he let them, they’d bring up Zoe at least once a week. Maybe more.
He wanted nothing to do with that. No part of dredging up old history. Old pain. Old reminders about how wrong things had gone.
He was already on edge about that failed relationship, and he worried that if Jenna brought it up, he’d get mad. Not intentionally, but it was definitely a sore spot for him, and he knew it made him snap. He didn’t want to get angry around her, not when they were getting along. It was nice.
He wasn’t even really trying. Just being himself.
Was she trying? Was it hard for her to be nice to him? He hoped not.
But if he snapped, that could change things. Even if he apologized. Should he just tell her now about what happened with Zoe? A preemptive strike, as it were? That way, he could give her the short, easy version, and maybe, hopefully, that would be enough.
But then again, if he brought it up, she might think his past was suddenly on the table as a viable topic. He wanted to shut that down, not open it up.
He thought about calling Birdie for advice, but the second she realized he and Jenna were engaging in civil communication, she’d be all over them like the Velcro matchmaker.
Birdie would be setting up dates for them at the romantic restaurants in town before he could say no. Complete with strolling violinists, if that was an option.
He closed his eyes and sighed. Calling Birdie was out.
Bridget wouldn’t be much better.
That left Hank.
Titus snorted. He already knew what his brother would say. If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t.