The Lone Wolf (Wolf 3)

“Wow…that is a big-ass Christmas tree.” At the bottom of the stairs in the entryway, the tree extended all the way to the second floor. It had to be at least twenty feet tall. Decorated with ornaments in gold and white, it was a beautiful piece for the house.

Maverick came down the stairs dressed for work. “Yeah. It’ll be great for the party.”

“Party?”

“I’m having a Christmas party here. Thought it would be a good way to make a lasting impression before springtime.”

“I thought you didn’t do parties.”

He shrugged. “It’s part of business.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good. I need you.” He stood beside me and examined the ornaments, his eyes lifting up to see every foot of it. It’d been a day since he woke up with a migraine, and he was finally getting back to his usual schedule. Cutting out the booze gave him an extra boost of energy. “Want to have dinner with me tonight?”

“Not out of the house.”

He turned his gaze back to me, his eyebrow raised.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight. I’d rather stay home.”

Once he understood I wasn’t blowing him off, he looked at the tree again. “It seems like it’s always raining.”

“Yeah…I hate winter.”

“I should head to work. I’ll see you later.” He turned toward me, like he might give me a kiss goodbye. Instead, I got a slight smile and an affectionate look. Then he walked off, his ass perfect in his jeans.

Even though the rift had been healed between us, nothing had changed. He didn’t try to make our relationship physical, and neither did I. It was the first time I’d said I would actually try… I just didn’t know what that meant.

I still didn’t know what it meant.

Maverick had water with dinner. Booze seemed to be temporarily gone from his life at the moment. He sat across from me and didn’t blink an eye over the red wine I had with the dinner Abigail supplied.

“How long have you known Kent?”

He shook his head slightly. “I can’t even remember. Almost ten years, I guess.”

“Was he at our wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t remember seeing him.”

“There were so many people there. You probably did meet him but just don’t remember.”

“Is he your best friend?”

He shrugged. “I don’t identify with that term. But he is my closest friend…if that’s what you’re asking.” He finished his food and left his half-eaten plate on the table. A green salad with fish and vegetables had been our dinner.

I ate all of mine because everything Abigail made was delicious. I liked my food simple but flavorful, and she did an excellent job of constructing that. It wasn’t packed with extra oils and spices until it was heavy and overwhelming.

Now that my walls were down, things were starting to feel the way they used to. We were friends who could talk about anything together. Conversations rolled off the tongue easily, and it was relaxed.

I’d missed it.

When we finished dinner, we made our way upstairs to the second landing.

My heart started to race because I knew something was going to happen. It’d been a long time since we’d been together, and it was obvious he was anxious. I was anxious too. I’d been sleeping with Brandon for a while, but that wasn’t as passionate and satisfying as it was with Maverick. It didn’t compare, actually.

When we reached the second landing, Maverick did the unexpected. He turned to me, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, and dismissed me. “Goodnight, Arwen.”

He didn’t try to kiss me. He didn’t dig his hand into my hair and pull me close. He didn’t kiss the back of my neck like a hungry wolf wanting to rip me to shreds. It was so unexpected that all I could do was stare.

He walked to the foot of the next set of stairs. “My previous offer still stands. If you want me, you know where to find me.” He walked up the stairs and disappeared from my sight. His footsteps grew quieter until they disappeared altogether.

I’d expected him to chase me, to pin me up against the wall and take me. I’d expected the wolf to come for me, to claim me as his own the way he used to. But I remembered all the times I’d rejected his affection. He took my hand and asked for my forgiveness so many times, but my answer was always the same. He couldn’t read my mind now. He couldn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t even know what I wanted until he walked away.

I headed upstairs to his bedroom and let myself inside.

His jacket and shirt were over the back of the chair, and his jeans were left on the floor where Abigail would pick them up in the morning. The bed was empty, so he was in the bathroom, probably brushing his teeth and washing his face.