When Maeve Met Caleb

MAEVE

I step into the shower and sigh. Dinner tonight with Caleb felt so comfortable, as if we were a couple enjoying a night in.

It was such a normal conversation and not what I would normally have on a first date. Usually, there are awkward pauses and standard questions.

With Caleb, we jumped right into our lives and the issues he is having with his pack. I still cannot believe werewolves are real and that Liam might become one.

I am worried about him and the injuries he sustained in the attack. Even if he doesn’t turn into a werewolf, those injuries looked bad.

I use the unscented body wash left in the shower and then step out, grabbing a fluffy white towel. I wrap it around my body and walk out to see a shirt and a pair of shorts lying on the bed.

The door is shut, and I can’t hear Caleb at all. I grab my bag and pull out my spare pair of underwear. I go nowhere without a clean pair just in case anything happens.

I put the shirt on and it slips down to my knees. It smells like Caleb—the woods after a bonfire. I press the collar against my nose and take a whiff.

Instantly, I am relaxed and want to crawl into bed.

When I slip into the king-size bed with satin sheets, I suddenly feel wide awake. I was tired before when we were eating dinner, but now I am awake and thinking about Liam.

We have to wait two weeks before we find out if he is a werewolf. That means I’ll be in my apartment by myself for two weeks.

I don’t like being alone; it is hard enough when he goes for a week at a time on his stakeouts. Now he might never come home.

I am used to living with someone; an empty home is not something I’ve ever wanted.

Tossing and turning in bed, I lie there for an hour before I hear Caleb’s feet walking down the hall.

His steps pause right by the door of the room I am staying in, but after a minute he continues down the hall and I assume to his room.

His home is beautiful and just what I would want if I could make my home. It isn’t a massive mansion, one that is cold and impersonal.

As we walked around the house, I could see his own style throughout. It was clean and uncluttered. His game room made me smile; it would be a great place to watch movies too.

The kitchen is amazing. I could cook up a storm in there. I’m excited about our date tomorrow night and thinking about what we will do at dinner and after.

When he bent down to kiss my cheek, I honestly wanted him to kiss my lips. The entire drive back here I wanted him to touch me, and when we walked around the house we held hands the whole time.

It felt like butterflies and fireworks were fighting in my stomach and across my body when we touched. Then he makes me an amazing dinner, and now I feel like I am starting to fall for him.

Finally, drowsiness overtakes me around 1 a.m., and I fall fast asleep.

***

In the morning I wake up to a knock on the door. Sitting up, I say, “Come in.”

Caleb opens the door with a tray balanced on one hand. He is wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt. I can’t help but admire his chiseled chest and muscular arms.

He is tall and built like a swimmer.

“Good morning, I brought you some breakfast,” he tells me. I brush my hair out of my face and smooth out the shirt he let me borrow.

“You didn’t have to. I usually just drink coffee for breakfast,” I say, and he shakes his head, a small growl emitting from his throat.

“It is the most important meal of the day,” he insists and places the tray on my lap. It has two plates of pancakes, two bowls of fruit, two cups of coffee, syrup, and butter on it.

I realize he brought up his breakfast to eat with me. I watch as he grabs a chair to pull up to the bed. Being bold, I pat the spot next to me on the king-size bed.

“You can sit with me,” I say, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“I can sit in a chair,” he replies, and I shake my head.

I want him to sit next to me, so I pat the spot again. He gives me a concerned look, which I find odd but pat the spot on the bed for the third time.

He sighs and walks around the bed, settling on top of the covers and putting a good foot of space between us.

I put the tray down between us and pick up a cup of coffee. I notice little packets of creamer and sugar set next to it.

“I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee,” he tells me with a sheepish grin.

I smile and reply, “I like creamer and sugar in my coffee. I never could get used to drinking it black.”

“I got used to it black because one of the cooks at the pack house never remembers how I liked my coffee.”

I laugh and reach for a bowl of fruit. He snags one of the plates of pancakes and drenches them in syrup. I wrinkle my nose, and this time he laughs.

“Don’t like syrup?” I shake my head and pop an apple slice in my mouth.

“Anything else you don’t like?”

“Jelly. I am not a fan of anything sticky really,” I explain, and he laughs a deep laugh that hits me in my chest. I feel it warm my heart and realize I like the sound of his laugh.

“Do you have any food you won’t eat?” I ask him, picking up a grape.

“I don’t like Brussels sprouts or salads. I will eat veggies. I just don’t like them in salads,” he says, and I giggle.

“You sound like Liam. If he could, he would live off of meat and starchy foods.”

“I’ll eat veggies though,” he points out, and I nod in understanding.

“Anything else?”

“Not big on sweets.”

“I love cookies. I enjoy baking chocolate chip cookies and dipping them in a glass of milk,” I share, and he smiles, a dimple visible on his left cheek.

“Chocolate chip cookies I will eat. I am not huge on cakes and cupcakes, things like that.”

“Gotcha,” I say, picking up my plate of pancakes and spreading butter on top. He watches me as I cut a piece and put it in my mouth. The pancake is fluffy and perfectly cooked.

“Another amazing meal. Where did you learn to cook?” I ask, polishing off the plate in record time for me.

“My mom. She was adamant about me being able to care for myself.”

“That is nice of her to care about you,” I reply, sipping on my coffee.

“Do you cook?” he asks me, and I nod.

“I meal prep on Sundays so all week I can grab lunch and dinner and work on school or my jewelry.

“Speaking of that, I need to get home and get Liam’s things then work on my pieces to get ready for my craft show next week and the party after it,” I say, slipping out of bed and walking over to my clothes from the day before.

I hear his breath hitch and I realize I am only in his shirt with my legs bare.

I turn back to see his eyes have changed to a deeper blue and his hands are gripping his coffee mug so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Sorry,” I whisper and slip into the bathroom to change, locking the door behind me.