I dropped the rag on the counter, ignoring the two tittering asshats behind me, and made my way around tables to the back booth.

I couldn’t miss the way his sultry brown eyes ate up every inch of me as I walked closer. I tried to steady my breathing and paste my casual smile in place. I was failing miserably, but I summoned my best acting skills.

“Hi. I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“I needed to—” He stretched one hand across the table as if to touch me, then pulled back and gripped the menu like it was a life raft. Staring down, he cleared his throat, but it was still rusty and rough when he said, “I needed to see you. Be near you.” He winced. “I know that sounds so creepy.”

“Very creepy.”

He looked up, horrified. But then he relaxed when he caught me smiling.

“I get it. I’ve been doing some reading on werewolves.”

“You have?”

“I know how your magic works.”

“How do you mean?”

Witch magic was very complex. Each witch contained strengths, talents one might have but not another. Even vampires and grims had levels of potency in their magic. While one might be born with such speed it looked as if they disappeared rather than moved so blindingly fast, it was different for werewolves. They were all born with the same level of magic, the same curse. And with that curse came a creative gift.

“Well, I read that, the way your magic works, you can’t use the gift without the curse. Meaning, you can’t work creatively if you can’t purge the wolf regularly. So it makes sense that my magic as a Hex-breaker somehow dulls the hex that’s been put on you. It’s just natural.” He stared intently. I shrugged. “At least, that’s how I see it.”

“I think you’re right.” His hand edged across the table again, but he stopped and whispered, “Do you mind if I touch you?”

I lost all my words for a minute as I contemplated that broad, long-fingered hand with rough calluses touching me…everywhere. When he started to draw back, obviously thinking my slack-jawed non-response was a rejection, I jerked my hand forward and covered his, curling my fingers under his palm.

He gave me a tight squeeze, closed his eyes, and smiled. Blowing out a heavy breath, he opened them again. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine. Touch always amplifies magic much stronger than proximity. It’s okay if you need to, you know, touch me from time to time.”

No, that didn’t sound dirty at all. But seriously, he could touch me anywhere, any time. No complaints here. His eyes flashed gold for a split second, which reminded me…

“So, how has Alpha been today? He bothering you?”

Mateo’s lopsided grin spread wide to light up his whole face. “Constantly.”

“Well, you tell him I said to behave.”

“He hears you. But he never wants to behave.” Mateo’s smile slipped, his eyes turning molten. I was suddenly aware of his callused thumb caressing the top of my hand.

“Right.” I gave him a squeeze and let go, glancing back at the bar where JJ mixed three cocktails while staring at me like a crazy stalker. I also noticed more customers seated in my section. “So, what can I get you?”

He straightened, glancing down at the menu again. “Um, one of your microbrews is fine. Pick a good one for me.”

“Sure thing.”

I swiveled away and took the drink order for the two guys and girl sitting in the booth behind him, then sped back to the bar.

“Two Grave Diggers, a Spider Bite Martini, and a Witch’s Brew. Make sure you get one of the Brews from the back of the cooler where it’s ice cold.”

“So,” he started with the kind of dramatic pause JJ liked to employ while pouring a shot of tequila into each tumbler for the Grave Diggers. “He couldn’t stand to wait till closing to see you, could he?”

I stabbed the cocktail straws into the Grave Diggers and set them on my round serving tray. “I guess so,” I said nonchalantly. “Or he just wanted a drink after a long day’s work.”

He chuckled again, flashing me his megawatt smile, the kind that had all the pretty boys lining up for him. “And that’s why he’s shooting daggers at me right now.”

I glanced over my shoulder, catching Mateo’s dark glare on JJ. I spun back to face JJ as he set the beer and frosty mug on my tray, then balanced the martini last.

He propped both his arms on the bar and leaned forward, speaking low so only I could hear him. “Remember what kind of a rule you told me it was?”

I had to actually think back to the earlier part of our conversation.

“Tread carefully, Evie. Jules may have given the okay to work with this wolf, but one thing I know well is men. And that look?” He glanced over my shoulder, then back at me. “That’s a dangerous one.”

Determined to pretend his warning had no effect on me, I turned quickly and maneuvered through the tables, serving the booth behind Mateo before I set his beer and mug before him.

“Are you hungry?” My heart did a triple flip at that seemingly innocent question.

His brown eyes scanned my face, then fell back to the menu. He cleared his throat, “What’s good?”

“Well, Jules is a killer cook, so pretty much everything.”

“Your sister is the chef here?”

“Yep. A woman of many talents.”

He didn’t respond, pausing long enough to make it awkward before he dropped his beautiful brown eyes back to the menu.

“So you and your sisters really went for the witches theme, huh?”

“Well, for the drink menu, yeah.” I laughed. “Hiding in plain sight and all that. Jules is a tad more serious about her food.”

“I see that. I’ll take the Cajun chargrilled oysters and the braised beef po’boy.”

“Coming right up.”

The late crowd pushed in, filling all my tables and keeping me blessedly busy. I couldn’t get past what JJ had said. Of course, Mateo was dangerous. He was a freaking werewolf. Somehow, though, when I looked into those warm brown eyes, I didn’t feel like I was in danger. I felt like I was with a friend. Maybe that was the trouble. He appeared harmless to me, when I knew a beast was caged inside somewhere.

I checked on Mateo as I would any customer, bringing him another beer before he closed his tab and remained in the booth, obviously waiting for me to finish up. He kept himself busy with a sketch pad and pencil.

When I occasionally glanced his way as I served drinks or meandered back from the kitchen, his eyes would always look up from his sketch and snag me for an uncomfortable few seconds. Then I’d force my attention elsewhere and pretend the heat crawling up my chest and neck wasn’t caused by his hypnotic, dark gaze.

I cleared my last tab in the register and delivered the credit card to the couple on a round-top near Mateo’s booth. “Thanks so much,” I said before easing slowly over to him.

He watched me come, unashamedly taking me in. Was he attracted to me? I’d thought so before, then realized he was just admiring my quirky taste in T-shirts. The hot looks he kept tossing my way could make any girl’s knees turn to jelly. And I was definitely one of them. I had plans for us tonight, but now I thought it was maybe a bad idea. My lusty imagination was running away from me. He’d been sitting in that booth for three hours. Technically, I only owed him one more hour. I headed closer to his booth, wondering what I should do. Maybe I should—

“What’s spinning through that head of yours?” His mouth ticked up on one side.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you’re planning your escape.”

“Me? No! I mean, that’s so silly.” Yes, definitely. Maybe not my escape, but certainly rethinking a night of cozy movie-watching on the couch together. Especially after three hours of his constant lingering looks whose meaning I couldn’t decipher. “What would I have to escape from?”

He tucked his sketchpad in a black messenger bag, then unfolded himself out of the booth, shouldering his bag. It was then I was reminded how tall he was. I wasn’t a short woman, but he made me feel significantly smaller. He had a broad chest and shoulders with lean muscle, not bulky, but there was restrained power in this body of his. I knew it for a fact since I’d seen footage of werewolves in their beast form. I’d never encountered one live, or I’d likely be dead already. They were the true monsters of the night, the ones that mothers warned their children about. Don’t stray from the path, Little Red. Because if this kind of wolf caught you during a full moon, that was it. As my Grandma Maybelle, once told me, “Game over.”

I stared up at Mateo and gulped, actually internalizing what kind of monster he’d be when we finally broke the hex. His warm gaze sharpened, as if he knew what was flitting through my head.

“You sure about that?”

What were we talking about?

“Sure about what?”

“Whether or not you’d like to escape.”

“I’m sure.” I didn’t sound sure. “I have a movie marathon planned for us at my house tonight.”

His shoulders had stiffened, and not from the mention of a movie marathon. His gaze had shifted over my shoulder toward the bar where JJ polished glasses and watched us. “I don’t think your boyfriend would like that.”

“My boyfriend?” I glanced at JJ again, then tossed my head back and laughed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Mateo’s scowl softened only slightly as he glared toward the bar. “I think he wants to be.”

That was it. He was adorable. And all my anxiety vanished like morning mist. I hooked my arm around his and led him toward the door. “No. He definitely doesn’t. He’s more of a big brother. And if anything, he’d prefer to be your boyfriend. Not mine.”

Finally, the cloud lifted from his frowny face, and he blessed me with a dazzling smile. “I’m not his type.”

He pushed open the door for me to step through first. I twisted and grabbed his arm again, my ponytail swishing. “Oh? What’s your type?”