scented her the moment he walked in and noticed her footsteps as well, but hearing her acknowledge him with such pleasure in her voice was a beautiful thing. He wanted to lay down with his head in her lap and have her scratch his sweet spot, right behind his ear. Or rub his belly. He wasn’t too proud for a damn belly rub, not if he could have it from Lucy. Of course, the rubbing would be mutual.
Lucy came from behind a shelf full of yarn, looking as cute and cozy as the night before. “Scott? Are you okay?”
He was staring. “Ah, yeah. How are you today?”
The honey scent he’d been swamped in when he entered was replaced by a sadness so intense he felt weak. It was so pure. Not bitter or selfish, just completely sad.
“I’m okay,” she replied, though her smile appeared strained. “Can I help you with something?”
He closed the distance between them. The night before she’d been on his mind. Her laughter, her smile, the charming cluster of freckles on the swell of her left breast. Those things had kept him awake long after he should have been asleep. Seeing her smiling face had been his mission of the day, but a new job was presented.
He stepped closer and though he knew he probably crowded her, he had to do something about the way she felt. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
She didn’t step away and part of him rejoiced even as his wolf was still upset over her being so unhappy.
“Well, I’m sorry it’s so obvious. I’m not really that upset, but today is sort of a sad one for me.” She stopped.
“Why?”
“Um.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, hesitating a long moment. “Today is an anniversary for me. Three years ago today my husband was killed.”
“Husband?”
“Yeah. He was my high school sweetheart. Brad went into the military right after we graduated. We got married before he left to make things easier and we were very happy together. He was gone a lot. I was in business school and we wrote each other all the time. He was deployed to Afghanistan and…he didn’t come back. Well, he came back, but it wasn’t the way I’d hoped.”
She wasn’t crying, hadn’t shed a tear, yet her sorrow was palpable to him. When his arms reached toward her of their own accord, he let them, engulfing her in a hug. He hadn’t grown up in a demonstrative family, but werewolves were affectionate by nature. They needed to feel accepted and protected. He knew things in the human world weren’t always the same, but down to his toes he thought Lucy would appreciate the hug for what it was—comfort when there simply were no words to soothe the pain.
Her arms looped around his waist and, like she was as comfortable with him as he was with her, she rested her cheek against his chest. “Oh, it was several years ago now, Scott. I appreciate the hug very much, but I’m really okay. It’s the kind of sad that comes and goes, but is more nostalgic than anything else.”
“It still hurts you,” he muttered, breathing in the clean scent of her hair. Her trust in him warmed his heart and the curiosity and facination he’d been feeling for her turned deeper.
She laughed a little and, though he didn’t want to, he let her pull out of his arms. She lightly wiped away a tear, a smile on her face. “You and your daughter, very empathetic. Jessie asked me last night why I was sad, but I managed to distract her with purling. Now, what can I do for you, Scott? I’m sure you had a reason for coming in.”
The mess of yarn he’d thrown away came to mind. “Yes, I did have a reason. Jessie’s yarn was ruined last night by one of her brothers. He asked me to come pick something new out for her.”
“Aw, what a sweet brother to try to fix his mistake.” Lucy held her hand to her chest. For a young woman, she had a lot of gentle, old-fashioned mannerisms. “I have a nice wool blend that will be good for Jessie. Oh, and maybe a little carrying case for her so there aren’t more accidents.”
Scott nodded and followed her deeper into the shop. It was a bit eclectic and, though things were clearly labeled with some semblance of organization present, Scott still figured people could get lost looking at and touching all the different colors and styles. He stopped at a case when he saw the same blue as Lucy’s eyes. He picked up a skein. It was supple, but not nearly as soft as she’d felt in his arms.
“You found my new favorites,” Lucy said, suddenly beside him, reaching for a chocolate brown color. “I like this one best.” She held it beside his face with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I think it’s the same color as your eyes.”
He lifted his skein. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She blushed slightly and set aside the yarn. She didn’t seem to mind the compliment, but he kicked himself. Flirting on the anniversary of her husband’s death was probably not what she had planned for the day. Still, it pleased him mightily that she’d noticed the color of his eyes, and coincidence or not, it happened to be a shade she liked.
“Um, what I had in mind is right back here,” she said and he followed, trying to give her more room.
She was sweet and he wanted to cuddle her, yet at the same time, he respected her and her feelings too much to crowd her if she didn’t want it. He hadn’t been rebuffed at all, but he hadn’t been invited for more either. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be. He grinned at her slim back. Well, not too slim. Tiffany had been a stickler about her weight and size. Lucy definitely had a softer side, her shoulders and arms in her knitted tank-top strong but also soft.
Her waist was clearly defined under the purple top, and flared out very nicely to a generous bottom. He’d never defined himself as a male who saw value only in a single feminine attribute, but Lucy had all the makings of turning him into an ass man. No doubt her lovely backside would join her freckles and smile on his mind later.
“Here it is.”
She didn’t turn until after she said it and Scott was grateful he hadn’t gotten caught ogling her bottom.
“What color do you think Jessie would like?” Lucy asked.
“Pink.”
Lucy smiled. “She is quite the girly girl, but if she’s in a house full of boys, I can understand why. I lived with my grandmother and my foster brothers were always around. I probably overcompensated too.”
“Grandma, huh? Did she teach you about all of this?” He picked up a skein of bright pink yarn.
“Yes, she did. It was always her dream to have a shop like this. She passed away the year after Brad and between the insurance from him and the small inheritance she left me, I decided to make a go of this place. She would have loved it and my only regret is not getting it started sooner so she could work with me here.”
He should have been used to getting hit by bricks around her, but Scott was floored by how genuine Lucy was. He wanted to know her whole story. What else had her grandmother taught her? What happened to the rest of her family? Did she like to sit on her male’s lap and watch movies late at night while sharing ice cream? He hoped she wasn’t a popcorn kind of girl. Popcorn dried out his mouth and proved an obstacle for other things.
“Scott, are you okay? You seem really distracted today.”
Her
