Wolf Untamed (SWAT - Special Wolf Alpha Team #11) - Paige Tyler Page 0,38
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.