she steal it from the gods?”
Daisy chuckled. “Actually, one of her friends works at Angelina in Paris. It’s a ritzy place known for its decadent hot chocolate. The recipe is a lot of work, but in the winter I make it at least once a month and freeze it for emergencies. It’s necessary to me, like breathing.”
“I love it. I love you. I love your aunt. Do you think she’d marry me?”
“She’s getting married to a handsome vampire this summer.”
“That’s too bad for me. What about you?”
“A marriage proposal on our first date?”
Beck sipped again, his eyes closing in bliss. “Yes, please?”
“You stick with love for the hot chocolate for now. I’ll reconsider your offer at a later date. Besides, love is so easy.”
“You think so? I suppose I did confess love kind of quickly. But seriously, are there witches in your family? I think you’ve put some magic in this hot chocolate.”
“No witchcraft. No even a smidge of faery magic. Just tender loving care. Love it all you like. You can even love me if you want to. Because the real challenge is in liking a person.”
“How so?”
Daisy pulled up her knees to her chest and held the hot cup beneath her face. The scent was heady. “When you like someone,” she explained, “you enjoy spending time with them. You can hold conversations and never get bored of what the other is saying. Or you can just be next to one another in silence and not feel the need to talk. You tolerate their bad habits, and admire their good. Trust me, like is hard work.”
“I agree. To like!” Beck tilted his cup against Daisy’s. “So your aunt is marrying a vampire in Paris, eh? Fancy. And a werewolf pairing up with a vamp? Cool.”
“Kam’s a vampire. My grandpa Creed is vampire, so, well, you can figure things out.”
“I can. My mom is a vampire. Though she was mortal until a nasty bitch of a vampire transformed her after she met my father.”
“She’s Belladonna, right? How is your mother doing?”
Beck took another sip, pausing for a while. She studied him from the side. The barely there stubble on his chin wanted a shave because his good clean looks demanded it. But she guessed he kept the stubble for that hint of danger, and it was probably warmer in the winter. He had the all-American tousled blond-and-brown hair, and that killer smile. And if she looked into his blue eyes long enough, she’d surely fall in like faster than a falling star.
She’d forgotten what she’d asked him, so when he finally answered she had to think back.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine?” His mother. “Oh, right. That’s good. And you?”
“Me? Don’t I look fine?”
“You look more than fine.” The words came out in a dreamier tone than she’d intended.
“Is that so?” Beck wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “You look a little cold. Drink up.”
She did, and the hot chocolate filled her gut with a warm explosion that loosened her nerves and coaxed her to settle against him a little snugger. They both wore cold-protective snow wear, so she’d never feel his body heat. But she could smell him now. A little bit of chocolate and a lot of sensual wildness. His aftershave wasn’t too strong. She liked it. Woodsy and warm. Like an old leather book found in the hollowed-out trunk of a tree on a hot summer evening.
Mmm, she’d like to crack open his cover and delve deep into his pages. She bet his story was filled with adventure, action and some steamy sex scenes. She could hope.
“So where’s this brother I need to worry about?” he asked.
With any luck, Kelyn would not find them tonight. Not that Daisy expected her brother to actually look for her if he was on a date. If they happened to see one another, then he’d probably wave across the crowd.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s got an eye on us even as we speak,” she said, then regretted that tease. “Kelyn’s cool. If he sees us, just wave.”
“Right. Why do I feel as if I have a target on my head, and there are four—five, including your dad—wolves who want to shoot holes through it?”
“I have no idea. You’re the one getting all worked up over nothing. Haven’t you dated a wolf from a pack before?”
“Nope. You did get the whole lone wolf part about me, right?”
“If you think it’s such a bad decision, why are we here right now?”
“Because always making the right decision is boring. Sometimes the wrong one is a hell of a lot more fun. And not getting to learn more about you would be worse than losing my head to one of the Saint-Pierre boys,” he said. “Besides, you’ve already forgotten. I love you.”
“Right. A victim of my witch’s brew. I can dig it. Love me all you want. Just don’t expect me to fall head over heels in like with you too quickly. We don’t even know one another.”
“That is going to change. Let’s talk.”
“So what do you want to know about me?”
He toggled the kitty ears on her cap, then tugged the string hanging over her jacket. “What’s a cute wolf like you doing without a boyfriend? I can’t believe I didn’t have to fight off a ton of wolves at the picnic to get near you.”
Daisy shrugged. “I’m...” She sighed. The truth was she probably pushed men away simply by being who she was. And yet there were more days than most that she had no idea who she was. Wolf or faery? “I’m not so much shy as kind of content with my aloneness. If that makes any sense.”
“Not really.”
“I’m not like most women.”
“You mean most women don’t get excited over greasy bike parts and know how to fix the heating element in an old stove? Who would have guessed?”
“You tease, but next time your stove goes on the fritz...”
“I’ll know who to call. So you like doing things with your hands. Nothing wrong with that.”
It pleased her that he hadn’t said boy things. She’d grown up with the tomboy label. Competing against her brothers for her father’s attention had been as natural as breathing. And that had required a hard skin and masculine interests. The tomboy persona hadn’t bothered her until her twenties when she’d noticed the women in their pretty dresses walking with their handsome lovers. Femininity was so easy for them. Walking in high heels? Daisy would rather jump in mud. (Which was always a blast.)
And really, dealing with the werewolf in her was always an issue when dating mortal men. But she loved being a wolf, so she wasn’t about to complain. Though, her wolf was “one of the boys.”
“My
