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  Roberto placed his hands behind his back and nodded. “I know just the one. Not too sweet, not too fancy.”

  “Perfect,” she said with a giggle.

  Roberto bustled off, and Brock gestured for her to lead the way to the dining room. “Ladies first.”

  “Do you play soccer?” she asked.

  “Oh no, I just dress up every Wednesday for fun.”

  She could tell by his smile that he was teasing, so she gifted him an eye roll.

  “Yeah, I play for an indoor league. I kind of wish I could skip out tonight.” He paused at the entry to the dining room. “Wish I had time to eat here.”

  “Do you want me to box you up some food?” she asked. “You’ll be hungry after.”

  Shock drifted across his face. “You would do that?”

  Ava shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Well, you don’t know me. And that was…surprising. That kind of care.”

  Ava grinned and angled her face, put on her most confident expression, which was mostly hidden behind her movie star sunglasses. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a very healthy dandelion weed. I’m a caregiver.”

  The shock morphed to that handsome smile and that deep chuckle that warmed her from the inside out.

  “Look…I know tomorrow is the UnValentine’s Day celebration, so I don’t want you thinking this is nice or romantic or anything,” he said, “but would you be up for eating in a hurry and then coming with me to the game? I could use a cheerleader.”

  “What if I just boo you if you suck instead?”

  “Hmm. Then it will encourage me not to suck.”

  The game sounded like fun. A new adventure with someone nice, who knew what she was and didn’t give her grief. “Okay.” She looked down at herself. “Is this okay to wear?”

  His eyes dragged down her slow, and the look in them gave her butterflies. He took his time and paused at her curves. “You look perfect.”

  “Against the rules,” she whispered.

  “You look unperfect,” he corrected himself.

  “That’s better.”

  “If you come to my game, I have one rule though,” he said softly, leaning against the door frame.

  She was trapped in his blue-eyed gaze, frozen completely. “I don’t like too many rules, but I’ll take the bait. Name it.”

  He hesitated for a second before he pulled the sunglasses from her face gently. “I know why you’re wearing these inside. You’re safe here, Ava. No hiding, okay?”

  Ava didn’t know why, but her eyes burned a little with moisture. All she could do was nod. Safe? That sounded soooo nice.

  He checked his phone. “I can skip a bit of warm-ups before the game so you can have a little more time to eat.”

  “Will you get in trouble by your coach?” she asked.

  Brock shrugged and pressed his fingertips on her lower back, guiding her into the dining room. “I’ll have to run some extra laps. It’ll be good for me.”

  Huh. This human stranger was going to get in trouble with his team just so she had extra time to eat, so they could ride together to his game. That was caregiving, too. Okay, Brock. I’m paying a little more attention now.

  The dining room consisted of two long tables under giant rustic chandeliers and a vaulted ceiling. The back wall was all windows, overlooking snowy woods. The walls were made of dark-stained wooden planks that looked like refurbished railroad ties, and there was a large stone hearth with a fire blazing inside, right beside a small bar where Roberto was pouring a trio of glasses of white wine. This was her new favorite room ever.

  Two other diners sat at the first table across from each other, talking softly, but formally, as if they were strangers. They were asking where the other was from. One was a man, tall and lanky with glasses and short hair. He wore a green button-up shirt and gave Ava a polite smile as she took the seat next to the woman he was talking to.

  “I’m Ava,” she introduced herself to the other diners.

  “Bre,” the twenty-something said brightly from beside her.

  “Davis,” the other said as Brock took the seat across the table from Ava, right beside Davis.

  “Do you mind if I join you in my street clothes tonight?” Brock asked.

  “You sure look different when you’re off work,” Bre pointed out. She was staring, and her smile was a little flirty.

  If Ava was a weretiger, she would’ve growled. As it stood, though, all her animal did was curl up in a ball when she was scared and roll away from danger.

  Roberto set a glass of wine in front of her first. “Water for you, boss?” he asked Brock across the table.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Who are you playing tonight?” Davis asked.

  “Panthers. They’re on a three-game winning streak.”

  “Time to bust ’em up,” Ava said.

  He chuckled. “We’re sure gonna try.”

  “Dinner’s on,” an older woman announced as she hustled in, oven mitts on, holding a massive iron pot of food.

  Ava’s mouth watered as she stared into the pot. It was a slow-cooked roast that looked like it would fall apart if you touched it with a fork. There were potatoes and carrots all around it.

  “You don’t mind if I serve Ava first, do you?” Brock asked. “I convinced her to come to my game tonight, and we have to speed-eat.”

  “That’s a crying shame,” the older woman called from the kitchen she’d bustled back into. “It’s her first meal here, and you’re already rushing her, boy.”

  Brock didn’t respond, just gave Ava a wink and stood over the pot, dishing food onto her offered plate. He was piling it on.

  “Oh my gosh, how much do you think I can eat?” Ava asked.

  “I have faith in you.”

  “Well, have some faith in me, too,” Bre said, offering her plate next. Ew. She just expected Brock to serve her.

  He handled it well, though, didn’t even hesitate, just served everyone, then himself last.

  The older woman returned with Yorkshire pudding, brown gravy, fried okra, and a huge pot of buttery mashed potatoes.

  Ava listened to the cheerful conversation around her, but she had a job to do, and that job was to eat fast so Brock didn’t have to do too many extra laps. One glass of wine and two servings of food later, she looked up to find the older woman sitting at the end of the table, a few chairs down from Ava, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

  “Shifter.”

  Ava gulped down the last bite of her mashed potatoes and wiped her lips with her napkin slowly. Her eyes had given her away again. Brock shouldn’t have taken her sunglasses off. “I’m Ava.” Shifter was part of her. It wasn’t all of her, though.

  The woman shoved her glasses up her nose and studied her like an owl on a rat. “I’m Brock’s grandma. People call me Gran. You can call me Ethyl.”

  “Gran,” Brock uttered low. “She’s nice. You be nice, too.” Warning flashed in his eyes at the woman, and then he mouthed the words I’m sorry to Ava.

  Davis and Bre had gone silent. Not even the clink of forks against the fine plates sounded anymore.

  “I’m not dangerous,” Ava said, clutching her napkin in her lap. How many times had she been through this same situation in her lifetime? Too many to count.

  “I have a story,” Gran said.

  “No time for stories, sorry,” Brock said, standing. “We have a game to get to.”

  “It’s fine,” Ava murmured. This was his grandma. She couldn’t just leave rudely. She was frozen in place, anyway.

  Brock walked all the way around the table and came and sat beside her, right between Gran and Ava. He sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. “Roberto, can you get Ava here another glass of wine?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Ava laughed nervously and cast Brock a thank-you look.

  “Once upon a time,” Gran said, “there was a couple of weretigers who lied on their check-in application. They got into a lover’s
quarrel in Lodge 8 and destroyed the entire thing. Changed right in there and gutted the cabin. Plumbing was spewing water, the kitchenette was destroyed, the bed, bedding, the television was shattered, pictures all ripped off the wall, the logs clawed up. Even the ceiling had huge holes in it.”

  “They paid for the damage,” Brock said softly.

  “That’s not the point,” Gran said. “They didn’t pay for our time, organizing the work crews to fix it for two months while we lost income because one of our rooms was unusable during our busiest season. All because of what they are. They had no control over their animals.”

  “Ava isn’t like them.”

  “Her eyes are bright green and practically glowing like a bug light. Are you telling me she isn’t a shifter?” Gran asked, her eagle eyes on her grandson.

  “No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying she isn’t a risk to our lodge. She isn’t dangerous.”

  “None of them look dangerous—”

  “She’s an armadillo,” Brock said, cutting his Gran off.

  Mid-drink of her wine, Ava froze in shock. She swallowed slowly and set her glass back down, trying to steady her feelings, which were swirling around and around in her chest right now. “You looked me up,” she gritted out.

  “I wanted to know.”

  “I told you I wasn’t one of the bad ones.”

  Brock jerked his attention to her and frowned deeply. “That’s not why I looked you up. It had nothing to do with my inn.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because…” His frown deepened and then looked away. “Because…”

  “Well, spill it!” Bre said. “This is like a soap opera.”

  “It’s okay,” Ava assured him. “Everyone is the same. Everyone looks me up.”

  Brock’s expression changed to something unreadable.

  Good and mortified, Ava stood and grabbed her purse and coat from beside her chair. “Mrs. Ethyl, the most destructive thing my animal does is rootles around in the dirt. I might make a pothole. And if I accidentally Changed inside, I would probably just get bored and take a nap in a cupboard. My animal side is actually pretty pointless. Lodge 10 is safe. If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling tired. Dinner was delicious, ma’am. Best meal I’ve had in years. Thank you.” She nodded to Davis and Bre. “It was nice to meet you.”

  And then with her dignity barely intact, she gave Roberto a little wave and made her way out of the dining room, careful not to look at Brock so he wouldn’t see how beet-red her cheeks were right now.

  When she shoved the back door open, the frigid air stung her face as she marched toward Lodge 10.

  “Everything’s okay, Little Dillo,” she said. “Tonight, it’ll be just us and Cornelius, and it doesn’t matter how people look at you. I still think you’re cute. And I’m sorry I called you pointless. That was awful.” She huffed out a steaming breath and wiped her cheeks because her eyes were leaking. She repeated softer, “That was awful.”

  Awww, here we go—time for a breakdown. Her legs locked up, and she stood in the middle of the snowy pathway by the pretty gazebo, covering her stupid, crying face with her hands. Well, his grandma hated her so Brock was definitely never going to talk to her again. God, she was terrible at first impressions.

  A roaring engine sounded and got louder by the second. She looked up just in time to see a monstrous old Bronco on giant tires with snow chains swerving around the side of the building and aiming straight for her. In the front seat was the man who was never supposed to talk to her again, and he skidded to a stop in front of her, passenger’s side door facing Ava. He shoved open the door. Leaning on the console, he said, “Get in, shifter.”

  “No, thank you, Brock. I think I should just…”

  “Just what? Be bored in Lodge 10? Come on. I’m going to miss the first of the game if you don’t come now.”

  “I think you should go without—without—” She squeezed her eyes closed, and two more tears fell to her cheeks. Hanging her head, her breath hitched pathetically as she finished, “Without meeee.”

  The sound of a slamming door echoed through the clearing, crunching snow, and then there was a very strong pair of arms around her. “Gran was wrong. I told her that, and I’ll talk to her more about it later.”

  “You had to lecture your grandmother on my behalf, Brock. I don’t want to cause tension. I just wanted to come here and escape for a little while, and you said I was safe—”

  “You are.”

  With a sniff, she stubbornly angled her face to the side and shoved her sunglasses back on. But Brock yanked them off and chucked them into the snow right in front of one of his big-ass tires. “Put them on to hide again, and I’ll run them over.”

  “You’re being ridiculous and rude.”

  “Well, happy two days before UnValentine’s Day. Now hug me back.” He sounded grumpy.

  Pouting out her lip, she slipped her arms around him and patted him firmly on the back.

  “Like you mean it. Hugs don’t stop the tears unless you mean it.”

  She bit back a smile. Silly man. “Fine,” she muttered.

  As she hugged him tight, his back cracked and the air whooshed out of his lungs.

  “Okay, that’s good,” he choked out.

  She eased up on the shifter strength and hugged him like not-such-a-psychopath.

  “Geez, woman, remind me not to piss you off. I didn’t realize armadillos were strong like that.”

  “Oh, they’re not that strong. I’m just better than a human in every way.” Yes, she was joking and, yes, it sounded cocky, but he reacted well. He laughed. Good, he could tell when she was teasing.

  “I’ll fix it with my gran,” he promised. “And look, after you left, Davis announced he is pro-shifter.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “And so am I, apparently. Tonight, let’s just have fun.”

  She sniffled. “This is the nicest hug from a stranger I’ve ever had.”

  She could feel his laugh reverberating through his strong chest. Geez, it was like hugging a statue. He was very fit.

  “I’m surprised Bre didn’t ask to come to your game.”

  With a snort, he said, “She did.”

  Grrrrr. That’s the sound she wished she could make. She eased back and looked up at him. His eyes were bright with the snow reflecting in them. “What did you say?”

  “That I was taking you on a date.” He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look. I know it’s not a date. I also saw your face when she was talking to me earlier, and I’m not putting up with y’all’s alpha female shit tonight. You’re queen. I let her know that. I’m not keeping you in an uncomfortable situation at my game. Now…crucial question.”

  “Mmmm?” she asked over the buzzy feeling in her happy little head.

  “Do you enjoy nachos?”

  “With the queso cheese? Or melted shredded cheese?”

  “Queso.”

  “The answer was yes either way. We are still hugging.”

  He looked down at the negative space between their squished torsos. “Oh. Right. Well, there’s nachos at the game, if you want to share one after.” He released her and gestured toward his rust and cream Bronco. “Your chariot.”

  The man just offered to share nachos with her. Was he trying to make her obsessed with him? Batting her eyes at him a few times, she then made her way to the monster Bronco and plucked her sunglasses from beneath the tire, dusted off the snow, and climbed up into the lifted rig. It wasn’t easy, nor did she make it look pretty.

  He laughed.

  She ignored him.

  Settling her purse in her lap, she told him, “I have no idea how you think I’m going to fit a single nacho inside of me when you just fed me four pounds of pot roast.”

  He leaned into her open door and grinned at her with the most confident hot-boy smile she’d ever seen grace a man’s face. “It was really hot how you ate it all, though.”

  “Oh, my gosh, Brock,” she muttered, jerking her attention f
orward as her cheeks lit on fire again.

  He shut her door and jogged around the front of his truck with the biggest smirk on his face. Oh, that man liked flustering her.

  Well, she, Ava Neveah Dennis, was unflusterable. If she repeated that to herself enough times, it would probably be true.

  He climbed up into the driver’s side, threw the Bronco into gear, peeled out of the yard, jumped a curb on the other side of the big lodge, and swung onto the main road. It was icy out, but that didn’t make a single difference to the tank of a Bronco that Brock was maneuvering down the winding backroads.

  Brock handed her the auxiliary cord of an upgraded stereo system. “Pick the music, but if you choose wrong, I’m judging you.”

  “I know this is where a lot of girls probably squirm under your pressure and scrutiny,” she muttered, plugging in her phone. “But I’m not lots of girls, and if you don’t like my taste in music, no skin off my back. Here is the first song on the first playlist on my phone. Ready?”

  “I’m ready for teeny bopper music.” He rested his arm over the steering wheel. “Aaaaand go.”

  She hit play and watched his face for a reaction as the first notes of the guitar riff to “Enter Sandman” by Metallica came on.

  “Ooooh myyyy God, yes!” he yelled at the roof of the car. He pointed to Ava. “Do the drum solo. Do it. I know you know it.”

  With a laugh, she mimed the drums with the beat, and he clenched his fist and started singing at the top of his lungs through the biggest smile she’d ever seen. She joined in on the chorus, loud as hell, and they were cracking up by the end of the song. She took him down the road of her favorite songs until he pulled into the parking lot of a sports complex in the middle of town.

  “Not gonna lie,” she admitted as they walked toward the building. “I’m surprised this town is big enough to support a sports complex.”

  “Well, it used to be a community center, but that closed down, and now it’s just an open gym space where we can play sports during the snow season. Mostly kids play in here, but on Wednesdays, the whole day is sports for adults.” He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder and opened the door for her. “I got into the league because my buddies convinced me. It was an excuse for them to get out of their houses every Wednesday night and go out for a drink after.”