“She was a mother. Before she died, she wanted to see me find a girl, settle down, be taken care of. Not be lonely.” I laughed.

“Why is that so funny?”

“Not funny. It’s just…” I put the truck in park and turned it off, staring out the windshield. “I don’t need to be taken care of. Most werewolves are loners. Just part of our DNA makeup. Some move in packs, but those guys tend to be total douchebags. Criminals, typically.” A flash of Nico running with a pack of particular assholes popped to mind. That was the only time I’d pushed against him, wolf to wolf, but it had to be done. I didn’t regret it. “Anyway, I’ve always known I was meant to be alone. But I’m not lonely. I’m happy with my life. Mama, God love her, she worried for nothing.”

I finally looked at Evie, expecting that look of pity my mother often gave me, not believing me when I told her I was fine on my own, time and time again. But that wasn’t how she was looking at me at all.

“I get it. I mean, I understand,” she said, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Sometimes, my sisters drive me batshit crazy, even though I can’t imagine living without them. But…I get it. While I don’t have your, you know, alpha thing, I get that you enjoy being on your own.”

Baby, I can’t wait to show you my alpha thing.

“Come on.” I glanced over her shoulder. “Let’s go eat.”

“Where?”

I pointed out her window to the right. “At Gotham City Grill, of course.”

She gasped, flinging her ponytail when she twisted her head so fast. “Oh. My. God.”

“I know it’s DC Comics, and you seem to prefer Marvel, but I thought you’d get a kick out of this place. My friend Scott owns it.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She closed her eyes a long second and held up both hands in front of her, palms out. “You know the difference between DC and Marvel?”

“Pshht.” I waved her off. “I’m not that ignorant.”

“Please marry me.”

My heart stuttered, then I let out a loud laugh. “Come on. There’s more inside.”

She popped out before I could even make it around to her side, my instincts telling me to open the door for her.

“There’s more?”

“Much more. Hold on to your panties. You’re about to be blown away.”

I’ll hold onto her panties if she loses them.

She hooked her arm through mine, now a familiar move of hers when we walked together, which felt oddly…wonderful. What made me feel better than the spell her sister put on me last night was the beaming smile Evie shot me, a sudden jolt of pleasure I wasn’t expecting. Why? Because I’d put it there.

Chapter 12

~EVIE~

“I want the Holy Bat-bacon Burger.” I ogled the menu and wanted to spank it and make it my bitch. It was the finest thing I’d ever seen. “How have I never known about this place?”

Our waiter Joe laughed, but it was Mateo who responded. “You’re just not as cool as me.”

I scoffed so loud, the girl at the next table whipped around and gave me you’re-a-weirdo eyes. “Coming from the guy who didn’t even know Darth Vader was Luke’s father?”

Mateo grinned, unruffled as usual by my dig at his piss-poor pop culture knowledge. He perused the menu. “You wanna split some Daredevil fries?”

My gaze fell back to the most amazeballs listing of food in the history of menus. “Daredevil fries?”

“Right there.” He reached over and pointed at the bottom of my menu. I couldn’t help but notice the bulging vein wrapping from underneath his forearm to the top of his wrist.

Gah! Why was I such a forearm whore? Was there such a thing as arm porn? Or man-veins porn? Because if there was, I needed a monthly subscription, like yesterday.

“They’re covered in pepper jack cheese and jalapenos.”

“Sounds good.”

“They’re spicy.”

“I like spicy,” I said, clearing my throat.

Mateo turned to the waiter. “I’ll have a Gotham Goliath. And can you bring us an order of Suicide Squad Sizzlers for an appetizer?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back with your iced teas.”

I devoured the décor of the restaurant, the industrial-style architecture that matched the slick, urban style of the DC comics. But what caught my eye the most was the oversized charcoal artwork hanging on the walls. I mean, comics were meant to be rendered in bright and varied colors, but these black and white charcoal drawings were just completely breathtaking.

“You like the artwork?” he asked.

“It’s insane. I mean, look at that one.”

There was one titled The Dark Knight’s Watch hanging on the corner wall behind Mateo. It was as tall as one of his sculptures. Batman’s cape arced out, his body filling the entire canvas. But almost camouflaged in the wings of the cape was the outline and pinpoints of light of Gotham City.

“Pretty good, right?”

I snorted. “Pretty good? I’d die to meet the artist.”

“No need for that,” said someone stepping up beside our table. “Hey, man.” A tall but gangly bearded guy with piercings in his eyebrow and tattoos roping his arms reached out and shook Mateo’s hand. Then he turned and offered to shake mine. “You must be Evie?”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You know my name?” I glanced at Mateo as I shook the guy’s hand.

He chuckled and nodded to Mateo. “As of about thirty minutes ago, yeah.”

“Evie, this is Scott Berard. He owns Gotham Grill, which also happens to be his very own gallery.”

“Dude, you cook and you’re an artist?”

“Nah. My uncle is the chef and runs the restaurant. I just own the building and the, well, the branding and decor.”

I heaved a sigh of relief. “Good thing. I’d have to divorce Mateo and drag you to Vegas.”

He laughed again. “Well, before you cancel those plans, consider that I do make a mean omelet.” He winked before rocking back on his heels, arms crossed, accentuating all the black ink swirling his biceps. “So when did you get married, man?” he asked accusingly. “You didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, no.” Mateo leaned forward on a nervous laugh, elbows on the table, gaze skating from me to Scott then back to me. “We’re not married. That’s just Evie being…Evie.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

Fidgeting with the napkin in my lap, I cleared my throat as heat flamed up my neck. I was the one who’d laid it out there like Mateo and I were a thing. Well, more than a thing, then left Mateo to bail us out. And Jesus, did I hate uncomfortable pauses. Thankfully, the sudden awkwardness didn’t seem to bother Scott.

“So, Mateo texted me you’re a DC fan?”

“Then Mateo lied like a dog.” Whew. Awkwardness gone.

“No, I said she was a comic book fan,” corrected Mateo.

“Oh, hell. You’re one of those Marvel fanatics, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” I said proudly, with a high arch of my eyebrow and haughty lift of my chin.

Scott heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You’re forgiven. Since you seem to have good taste in artists.” He gave Mateo a sly grin, which made my insides do all kinds of crazy, melty things.

He was still under the impression that Mateo and I were a couple. This time, before Mateo could correct him, the waiter popped up and dropped off our iced teas, both with lemon. Saved! Thank you, Joe with the crew-cut.

“Well, I’ll let you guys enjoy your meal. But hey, we’re still doing the Voodoo Festival booth, right?” he asked Mateo.

“I’ve got it all reserved. I’ll have Missy message you the details.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Evie.”

“You, too,” I said sincerely.

He sidled off, and I took a long drink from my iced tea, hoping Mateo didn’t feel weird now with my whole marriage/divorce joke debacle. Apparently, it didn’t bother him at all because he gave me a playful smile and asked, “So, is this a good surprise?”

“This is the epicest surprise ever.”

“Epicest?”

“Definitely.”

“And you like his artwork?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s crazy good. And badass.”

He played with the straw in his drink, stirring the ice around, gaze flitting from his glass to me. “Better than mine?” His voice had dropped softer even though he still gave me the playful eyes.

“Are you jealous I might like his work better?”

He squeezed the lemon wedge that had been sitting on the rim of the glass into his tea, dropped it, then licked his thumb. “Maybe.”

I blinked a few times, trying not to get distracted by his mouth and his fingers. “You are jealous. Oh, man. Maybe I should draw this out.”

His eyes darkened to dangerous. Sexy, playful dangerous. “You’d torture your own friend who just gave you the epicest surprise ever?”

“In a heartbeat.” I slid my gaze back to the giant, charcoal Batman. “Mmm. I think Scotty has amazing skills.”

“Scotty?”

“Yeah. We’re best friends now.”

“Since when?”

“Since we bonded over omelets and art.”

He took a deep swallow of iced tea and set it back on the table. With a swift lick of his lips that I felt zing between my legs, he then said, “Scotty isn’t the only one with amazing skills, you know?”

And suddenly, the temperature shot from AC-breezy to Mordor-scorching. I averted my eyes and sipped my tea, needing to move away from this, whatever it was. Mateo won. He was way better at teasing than me. “You do know your artwork is insanely good, right?”

“Yeah, I do. But I want to know what you think.” He leaned forward again, his upper body kind of swallowing the table space. His biceps bulged all pretty in his T-shirt. “What you think of my art,” he said low and sensual-deep.