How to Flirt With a Naked Werewolf - Molly Harper [84]
“Thanks,” I muttered, not bothering to correct his “mate” assumption. “How’s Cooper?”
“Pissed, which is a good sign, I think. He’ll take that crap from Maggie, but the minute she laid a hand on you, all bets were off. He’s never drawn blood from her before, never pushed back like that, even when we were pups. It knocked her on her ass, in every sense of the word, which is good for her.” I nodded, staring down at my hands, which were covered with fire-extinguisher residue. “So, you’re handling the whole wolf deal pretty well,” he observed. “Most human women would have run for the hills by now.”
“I like Cooper, a lot,” I said, casting a cautious glance at his mother. “And I didn’t exactly have the most ‘orthodox’ upbringing, so I’m used to the slightly unusual.”
“Still,” Samson said, that touch of awe returning to his voice.
“You are either very brave or very odd to agree to come here,” Gracie said, lifting my chin. She seemed to be inspecting the damage but at the same time pinning me with her wide green eyes.
“It’s probably a mix of both,” I admitted.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Hungry,” I said. I checked the clock. It was almost five in the morning. Thank goodness it was Sunday, my day off, so I wouldn’t have to call in “concussion” and explain my ass-kicking at Maggie’s hands to Evie.
“I’ll make you some breakfast,” Gracie said, rising from the couch.
“No, actually, do you mind if I cook?” I asked, pushing myself to my feet. “It would probably settle my nerves a little bit. And you’re exhausted. Have you had any sleep?”
“No,” Gracie admitted.
“You sit, I’ll cook,” I told her. “The best way to tell if I have a concussion is seeing whether I remember all of the ingredients for a western omelet.”
Gracie protested, “I couldn’t let you—”
“Not so fast, Mom,” Samson said. “Cooper’s told me all about her cooking. Maybe we should let her get back on her feet.”
“Forgive Samson, he was raised by wolves,” she muttered.
I quirked an eyebrow. “Is this some sort of test? If I laugh at that joke, will I be tossed out?”
Samson barked out a laugh as he pulled me into the kitchen. “Didn’t I tell you, Mom?”
IF MY COOKING was any indicator of cranial well-being, I was concussion-free. The smell of sautéed onions and peppers, dosed with a little garlic, raised my spirits considerably. Gracie had a clean, orderly kitchen. Everything was just where you’d expect it to be. She made coffee, and she and Samson sat at the kitchen table, watching me cook.
There were more pictures in the kitchen. Cooper, Maggie, and Samson in happier times, sledding, fishing, making hideous faces at the camera. Maggie and Cooper were obviously close as kids. In almost every picture, she was right by his side, his arm slung around her shoulders.
“You’d never seen a sister who loved her brother as much as Maggie,” Gracie said, handing me a cup of coffee and nodding at the picture I’d been staring at. “Or a big brother who tolerated his baby sister hanging around as well as Cooper.”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t get it,” I said, stirring eggs into a pan. “If they were so close, why can’t she just forgive him? Or at least stop trying to rip his face off every time she sees him? Why is she so angry with him? Cooper told me he had to leave, but he’s never explained what that meant. I thought maybe it was that he didn’t feel welcomed by his family anymore, but I see that’s not true. What happened to make him feel like he couldn’t stay?”
Samson lifted an eyebrow. “He hasn’t told you?”
We heard a truck’s engine humming outside the house. I looked out the little kitchen window and saw Eli’s SUV pull to a stop in the driveway.
“Cooper should be the one to tell you,” Gracie said quietly.
As the front door opened, Samson said loudly, “And then I convinced Cooper to hold the umbrella and jump off the highest limb he could reach. I didn