How to Flirt With a Naked Werewolf - Molly Harper [60]
He admitted, “I don’t like seeing you dancing with him.”
“So it’s a dog-in-the-manger thing?” I snorted, lowering my voice. “I’m sorry, is that culturally offensive to werewolves?”
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as he demanded, “What do you mean, dog in the manger?”
“You don’t want me, but you don’t want anybody else to have me.”
“I never said I didn’t want you,” he said, his husky voice so soft I was absolutely sure I was the only person in the room who heard it. He was looking down, his thick black lashes resting on his cheekbones. His hands pulled me closer, pressing me against his chest. My heart thudded erratically. Every face and every voice in the room faded away as I focused on Cooper’s mouth, the generous peach-soft curve of his lips. I surrendered to the gravitational pull that had me leaning closer, mingling my breath with the spicy warmth of his.
Alan’s voice boomed over my shoulder. “I think you’ve monopolized Mo’s time for long enough, Coop.”
We both jumped. The moment, the spell, whatever it was, melted away. I looked back to find Alan giving Cooper a pointed glare. And did Cooper just growl?
Fortunately, Abner Golightly chose this opportunity to pull me into a lively dance he called the “Tennessee Tornado,” which was a cross between the jitterbug and the watusi.
“I used to do this one with the girls at the USO,” Abner told me with a wink as he spun me under his arm. For a withered little man, he had surprising upper-body strength. Still, I don’t know who I was more afraid for when he dipped me.
I managed to catch glimpses of Cooper and Alan while Abner spun me back and forth. Alan had joined Buzz at the bar and was sulkily nursing a beer. Cooper had retreated to a table in the corner. His eyes tracked me back and forth, back and forth, as if he was planning the best course of attack on particularly irritating prey. His focus made me edgy, nervous, so I threw myself into staying as busy as possible. I tried to hide in the kitchen, washing dishes, warming up food, but Evie kept chasing me out. I danced with anyone who asked me, leaving me with extremely tired feet and the added problem of renewed hope on the part of Leonard Tremblay. Alan pulled me over to a secluded table, where our conversation was frequently interrupted by Walt. He was desperate to escape dancing and to discuss sports. As I had no stake in this conversation whatsoever, my only real entertainment was watching Cooper dodge increasingly aggressive overtures from Lynette, including her spilling an ice-cold beer in his lap and then “frantically” trying to mop up his crotch.
I pleaded exhaustion at around eleven. Alan offered to see me home, but he was sidelined by a debate over the Maple Leafs’ offensive line. I tried to use his distraction as an opportunity to make a polite escape, go home, and slap my indecisive id silly.
Evie seemed unhappy that I was leaving early, but short of holding on to my leg and dragging me, there wasn’t much she could do to stop me. I slid into my parka, said some quiet good-byes, and ducked out to Lucille. As I was opening the driver’s-side door, I felt someone behind me. I turned, knowing it would be Cooper standing there.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He glared at me. “I don’t like to repeat myself.”
“So you want me?” I stated, my lips twitching smugly. “You want me? Sorry, I just think it bears repeating.”
Cooper stayed silent.
“Well, it’s nice to know,” I told him. I stepped closer. His arms tensed at his sides. I peered up at him, enjoying the way his blue eyes grew dark around the irises as I moved closer. His lips parted as I stopped just short of brushing my mouth against his. “Good night.”
I leaned back, a barely concealed smirk lifting my cheeks. Cooper did not have on a happy face. I snickered a little as I climbed into my truck and gunned the engine. That was oddly satisfying, considering I’d barely touched him.
As I drove home, little white tufts of snow started to swirl against my windshield. I’d only seen snow on TV. It was