“Shit. Here. Just don’t do anything I’ll regret.”

Chela put the number in her phone and immediately began typing. She hit send with a grin.

“What the fuck?”

The confusion they heard through the door had Ben giving her the evil eye. “What did you do?”

She shrugged and started typing again, hitting send when Ben tried to look over her shoulder. “Nuffing.”

“Chel.”

“Trust me.”

She could already feel the amusement warring with the fear and annoyance in the man behind the locked door. Chela bit her lip to hide her smile and sent another picture.

Bless you, Belle. This was the best idea ever. It had taken her a few hours to gather all the images and quotes and load them on her phone, but she was willing to bet this would be what broke the ice with her frightened mate.

The amusement was fading. Time to send the next picture.

When Ben saw what she was sending Steve, he started to chuckle. “Droopy Dog? Really?”

She typed out the quick message in her best Droopy. Hello, all you happy people. You know what? I’m the hero.

She could almost hear the snicker, but he didn’t respond, so she sent him another cartoon dog. This one was just a simple GIF of a puppy wagging its tail, with the message, Please come out to play with me?

The response was swift and decisive. No.

She sent him Marvin the Martian and his green dog, K9. Aw, c’mon. How can you resist that face?

His amusement spiked, but he still sent her No.

This time she sent him the Grinch and Max. You’re mean.

No! But she could almost hear him laughing.

Odie accompanied her next message, drooling all over the place. I promise, I’m harmless.

No answer. She dug up Peg from Lady and the Tramp for her next message.

If he’s a tramp,

he’s a good one,

and I wish that I

could travel his way.

She waited a moment, but all she sensed was confusion. Damn. For a moment she’d forgotten. He didn’t feel the mating pull yet. She should have saved that one.

She dug out the next image, one of Courage the Cowardly Dog. Something fishy is going on, or my name is Aloysius… And it’s not.

Snickers answered that one, making her smile. Her mate had the best laugh.

“Where did you get all these?”

She’d forgotten Ben was still looking over her shoulder. “Which, the pics or the quotes?”

“Both.”

“Belle.”

“Ah. Yeah.”

She grinned. So far it seemed to be working. At least Steve was talking to her, even if it was to say no.

The next message from him was followed by a swift dash of fear. You’re a werewolf. Ben’s a werewolf. That’s not something you get over with cutesy text messages.

She typed back, I know, but…

She sighed and sent him a GIF of a little boy hugging his dog.

Silence. Not even his emotions bled through.

The next message she sent was Blue from Blue’s Clues. Isn’t it time to get out of the Thinking Chair?

That got a reaction. She’d been afraid he’d somehow snuck out of the cabin despite Ben and Chela sniffing for traces of him, his emotions were that quiet.

No. But she could sense he was wavering. By proving she was goofy, she was making herself human again. She needed him to see her as human first, wolf second, even if that wasn’t always true.

If you came out, we could finally go to dinner. A picture of Lady and the Tramp eating spaghetti followed her text.

Silence again, but this time she felt more amusement than anything else. When her cell phone dinged, she looked at the image and broke into laughter.

He’d sent her Snuffles, from Quick Draw McGraw, pointing toward his open mouth to beg for a dog biscuit.

Just you, though. No one else.

She didn’t need to even think about her response. Yes. Hell to the yes. Have her mate all to herself over food? That was a no-brainer. What would you like to eat? I can have someone bring something over, or we can meet in Lowell’s.

The answer was swift. We’ll eat here. I’m not sure I want to head into the lodge right now.

Well. That suited her plans down to a T. She had every intention of giving him the mating bite tonight, changing him into one of them and marking him as hers for the rest of eternity. From the way Ben shivered as she grinned, it was probably a good thing Steve couldn’t see her expression. She typed quickly, knowing she had to head back to the lodge and start on her plans for the evening.

Works for me.

Steve flinched at the knock on the door. Sure, he’d agreed to dinner with Graciela, but part of him was still wondering if running wasn’t the better option.

Of course, with his luck, he’d become dinner. He’d seen the movies, read the novels. They’d kill him to keep their secret safe.

No matter how cute the girl was, he still wasn’t sure it was worth it.

“Steve?”

He stared at the door, his heart pounding. He’d agreed to this, said yes against his better judgment, and now she was here.

There was a fucking werewolf at his door.

A cute one, but still.

“Steve? I have steaks.”

He huffed out a breath. She sounded wary, like someone who was trying to gentle a frightened kitten.

He didn’t want to be that kitten. He wanted his life back.

He went up to the door and opened it, determined to face her once and for all. “I’m not sure about this.”

She stared up at him, her gaze full of sorrow. “I swear, I won’t hurt you.” She was twisting a bit of ski jacket between her gloved fingers. Her dark hair was back in a bouncy ponytail, making her eyes seem huge.

Shit. It was hard to be frightened of someone wearing bright pink plaid and looking like he’d kicked her puppy.

She nodded toward a cart loaded with covered plates and a bottle of wine. “Food?”

He glanced behind her, making sure she was alone. Pfft. As if a freakin’ werewolf couldn’t hide from me. “You promise you’re alone?”

She nodded solemnly. “I give you my word as Omega.”

That declaration had weight to it, her voice more serious than anything he’d heard from her yet. “Okay.”

The smile he got as reward was stunning. He opened the door wider so she could start carting in the food. “You need help?”

Another unbearably sweet smile that pulled at his heart. God, she was so sweet he wanted to cuddle her. “Nope. I’ve got it.” She looked down, her expression turning puzzled. “I thought you hated the cold?”

“Yeah, I’m not fond of it. Why?”

“You’re barefoot.”

“And?”

She went back out for the second plate. “Aren’t your feet cold?”

He shrugged. “I prefer to be barefoot indoors. Always have, ever since I was a kid.” It was the first thing he did when he got home after a long day at the office. The shoes got kicked off, the socks thrown in the hamper, rain or shine, hot or cold. She wasn’t the first person who’d commented on it, and she probably wouldn’t be the last.

She just shook her head, carting in the last of the food before closing the door. She took off the bright pink ski jacket and hung it next to his red coat.

He ignored how right they looked next to each other, the calm certainty that her coat was right where it belonged.

She’d worn a pair of jeans that should be illegal, the way they hugged her curves. The sweater was a warm cinnamon shade that made her skin glow. And, unlike a lot of the women Steve had dated in New York, she’d kept the makeup to a minimum, wearing just enough to make her eyes sparkle and her lips look wet and inviting.

He hoped he’d be able to keep his desire under control, but as she bent over, setting the table, those jeans stretched across her ass like an invitation to sin.