Evershaw shook his head as he stood in front of the fridge and tried to figure out what the hell went into breakfast tacos. Did he even have tortillas? He’d wanted to ask Mercy what the witch was talking about, but didn’t think Deirdre would have appreciated it. So he’d have to wait until he fed Deirdre and tucked her back into bed so she could rest more, then he could make his cousin decipher what the fuck the witch had been mad about. He still had no idea. Even the “explanation” she’d given him didn’t make sense. Something about being conflicted and embarrassed and not having men stay over.

He kept shaking his head as he pulled out eggs and ground sausage and cheese and onions. He could at least make omelets and put them into tortillas. Maybe that was close enough. He started to pour Deirdre a cup of coffee and thought better of it, reaching for decaf tea instead; the witch didn’t need any more caffeine, that was for damn sure.

His phone rang just as he started cracking eggs into a bowl with some milk to scramble. “Yeah.”

Todd spoke, sounding amused. “Has the witch recovered her dignity?”

Evershaw glanced over his shoulder to see whether Deirdre had reappeared, though the witch was nowhere in sight. “She’s working on it. Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I so enjoyed seeing the look on your face after you got your ass chewed by a girl half your size that I wanted to hear it in your voice,” his cousin said. “And because there’s actual news. We got a message from the witch.”

“Which witch?” Evershaw lowered his voice and kept an eye on the door. He didn’t want Deirdre to overhear if it meant the pack needed to deal with one of her fellow witches. There was no love lost there, certainly, but he didn’t want her to feel responsible or complicit if he had to kill one of them.

“The aunt.” Todd’s tone went carefully neutral. “She claims she has some concerns about Deirdre’s state of mind. Something about a spell being cast on her or something. She wants to meet you and Smith somewhere public. Soon.”

Evershaw rubbed his jaw, frowning as he stirred the cooking sausage in the pan. So much for breakfast in bed with his witch. “Fine. Give me an hour.”

“Again? After all the noise you were making earlier, you really—”

Evershaw hung up before Todd could finish whatever he was saying, but Evershaw heard him laughing out in the hall. He sighed and focused on the task at hand. Feed Deirdre, get Mercy in there to figure out what was actually bothering the witch, and then he could end the bullshit with her aunt. And hell, with the way his luck was going, the witch would be responsible for trying to kill him so he could wrap all that up at the same time. Easy-peasy, like Deirdre said.

He scraped the eggs into the sausage. Too bad Deirdre didn’t understand how important food was to the wolves, or she’d realize it was a big step to have him cook for her. For him to feed her from his own hands. He’d never cooked for anyone since Ashley shit on his heart, but he wouldn’t even mind wearing a stupid apron if it made the witch laugh.

The eggs were almost set by the time Deirdre appeared, her hair in a demure bun that practically begged to be mussed up and taken down in passion, and she eyed the mess he’d made with mild disapproval. Evershaw pointed the spatula at her to direct her to a chair. “All right, witch. Prepare yourself for the best fucking breakfast tacos in the entire world.”

She still eyed him dubiously, but her mouth softened into a smile as he toasted tortillas and started piling food onto her plate. The tension in his chest began to relax. She was safe and fed, would be able to rest all day, and that was all that mattered in the world. The wolf could rest as well, content that his mate was cared for. Even if neither of them were convinced that breakfast tacos were actually a thing.