The Snow Leopard's Pack (Glacier Leopards 5)

Cal shrugged. “I had some leftover chicken, so I thought this would make a good meal. Got some good bread to go with it, too, and it’s got to be eaten pretty soon anyway.”

Lillian said, “I’m still impressed. I can see you’re a good cook.”

Cal waved a hand, as though shaking off the compliment. “Wait until you taste it before you say anything.”

Lillian had been deliberately imitating Cal’s way of complimenting her—because, she’d realized, he’d been doing it regularly throughout the day. Slow, clear statements about how impressive he thought she was.

She’d been brushing off the compliments because they never quite jived with how she felt about herself. But she hadn’t realized until now how irritating that might be. She wanted to say to Cal, “No, don’t act like I’m wrong to compliment you. I’m not wrong, I can tell that you’re good at this.” It was frustrating, even.

She wondered if that was also how Cal had felt when she’d wriggled out of acknowledging what he said about her. Food for thought there, maybe.

“Just about done,” Cal said, and the next few minutes were a fascinating study in how quick and careful a big man like him could truly be. The kitchen was tidied up, the table was set, and soup was ladled into bowls, all in just a few minutes, and all without any mishap or even too much clatter.

It was graceful as hell—pardon my language, Lillian thought, smiling to herself—and insanely attractive.

Cal brought the soup to the table and set it down in front of her. It smelled amazing.

“Thank you for this,” Lillian said. “I really appreciate it.”

“My guess is you don’t have people cook for you that often,” Cal said. “So I’m happy to change things up a bit for you.”

Lillian was quiet at that, not wanting to complain. Instead, she tasted the soup. It was amazing, rich and full-flavored. The vegetables were bright and not at all overcooked, the chicken was tender, and the stock was...”Do you make your own stock?”

Cal nodded. “Pretty easy. Toss a chicken carcass in a pot of water, walk away for a while, come back and it’s done.”

Lillian shook her head. “Expect me over for dinner again, I suppose.”

“Happy to have you,” Cal said warmly.

Lillian hadn’t been expecting the depth of feeling she could hear in his voice. She felt herself flush.

Was he interested? Was he just being friendly? Or maybe he was feeling something sincere, but it was just because he was happy to welcome someone else into his pack. Lillian could tell that he was a natural leader, whatever his discomfort over the possibility of being too authoritarian. Maybe he was just glad that the pack might be expanding.

“So,” Cal said, apparently oblivious to her racing thoughts, “what made you want to be a librarian?”

“Oh,” Lillian said, immediately distracted, “there was really nothing else I could’ve been. I could hardly decide on a major on college. I just wanted to know a little bit about everything. If I could’ve majored in English, history, biology, chemistry, theater, and fine arts all at once, I would have.”

“That’s interesting,” Cal said thoughtfully. “I guess I would’ve thought a librarian would obviously be someone who liked English literature. But there’s a lot more in the library than just that.”

Lillian nodded vigorously. “There’s all sorts of subjects. And we have a lot of people come in to learn how to use computers these days, too, so I do a lot of educating about that, which I enjoy also.”

Cal smiled. “Librarians of the future.”

“It’s important,” she said. “People need to know how to use computers to access so many services these days, and especially out here in the middle of nowhere, some people still don’t. So it’s a big part of my job. But—well, mostly, I love to read.”

“What are some of your favorite books?”

Lillian smiled. “That’s a good question. People usually ask, ‘What’s your favorite book?’ which I can never answer. Hmm, let’s see. Some of my favorite classics are Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Twelfth Night...I like science fiction more than I would’ve expected; I just finished Dune and it was very, very good. History, of course; I’ve been reading a book on World War I that’s truly amazing—” She made herself stop.

“Huh,” Cal said. “Maybe you could recommend me some things. There are some nights at the Park where I’m on duty, but mainly there to be on call if there’s some kind of emergency. And the hours can get a bit long with nothing to do. Can’t shift, because then I’m not on the radio, can’t go out into the mountains because I have to be available quick. Just have to sit in my office. A book would be welcome.”

Lillian smiled. “Of course. Come in the library sometime and I’ll pick some things out for you.”

“I’ll do that.” There was that warmth again.

They finished up the meal, and Lillian stood up with her plate before Cal could protest. “No, I won’t hear it,” she said when he opened his mouth. “You cooked this amazing meal for me, the least I can do is the dishes.”

She used her steeliest tone, and Cal looked at her thoughtfully for a minute before saying, “How about we do them together.”