Hey,I just called and you didn’t pick up, which is probably for the best, because if you had, you would have told me not to do this.
So. Here we are, after years of what I will generously describe as personal growth and very successful singlehood, I’m about to see the man I once lost my entire mind over.
Yes. That man, the back-seat-of-a-car, zero self-respect, feral teenage kissing man.
The one whose house I once ran out of half dressed because his pregnant ex showed up like a jump scare.
And before you say anything, no, this is not about how unfairly hot he still is. This is about his kid. The one he raised alone. He’s having an identity crisis. A werewolf identity crisis. Which means I now have to explain to a devastatingly attractive, catastrophically uninformed human man that his son is a werewolf.
That I’m a werewolf. And that his ex was, statistically speaking, also a werewolf.
Hold on.
…He just texted me. He asked if I’m free.
Which is funny, because my brain has immediately launched into a full documentary about why this is a terrible idea. The dreamiest beginning. The most traumatic breakup. The part where humans and werewolves once again confirm that love does not override basic biological and emotional incompatibility. I should have known we were never right for each other. Second chances are a bad idea, right?
Anyway.
My schedule is empty. My judgment is gone.
If he asks again, I’m saying yes.
And if I ignore the speed limit and all known warning signs, I can be at his apartment in twenty minutes.
Genre: Romance
So. Here we are, after years of what I will generously describe as personal growth and very successful singlehood, I’m about to see the man I once lost my entire mind over.
Yes. That man, the back-seat-of-a-car, zero self-respect, feral teenage kissing man.
The one whose house I once ran out of half dressed because his pregnant ex showed up like a jump scare.
And before you say anything, no, this is not about how unfairly hot he still is. This is about his kid. The one he raised alone. He’s having an identity crisis. A werewolf identity crisis. Which means I now have to explain to a devastatingly attractive, catastrophically uninformed human man that his son is a werewolf.
That I’m a werewolf. And that his ex was, statistically speaking, also a werewolf.
Hold on.
…He just texted me. He asked if I’m free.
Which is funny, because my brain has immediately launched into a full documentary about why this is a terrible idea. The dreamiest beginning. The most traumatic breakup. The part where humans and werewolves once again confirm that love does not override basic biological and emotional incompatibility. I should have known we were never right for each other. Second chances are a bad idea, right?
Anyway.
My schedule is empty. My judgment is gone.
If he asks again, I’m saying yes.
And if I ignore the speed limit and all known warning signs, I can be at his apartment in twenty minutes.
Genre: Romance
Used availability for Krista Lark's Fated to the Single Dad