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“Only exist in Kevin’s tiny mind,” Dylan confirmed. “And if Kevin was your first werewolf date, I don’t blame you for swearing off shifters.”

Hunter blinked rapidly, then cradled his head in his hands and groaned. “Man, I feel like such an idiot. He was lying the whole time, and I was dumb enough to believe him.”

And he might have felt stupid, but I could see how the misunderstanding had happened. Hunter was relatively new to the whole shifter thing, so if an actual werewolf told him there were cultural norms around dating, it wasn’t like he was going to question that information. It was just bad luck that in this case, the werewolf was Kevin, who was more full of shit than a porta-potty at a music festival.

“You’re not an idiot. You’re just a victim of Kevin,” I said.

“Fucking Kevin,” Dylan said with a solemn nod.

Hunter lifted his head and caught my gaze and held it. “Still. I should have known you weren’t anything like that possessive asswipe. I did know, and I should have listened to my gut. But instead I got stuck on some stupid no-shifters rule I’d made for myself.” There was genuine regret in his voice.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I mean, this whole werewolf thing is a fucking minefield. And I say that as someone who needed professional assistance to figure out how my legs work.”

Hunter gave me a watery smile. “You got the hang of it, though.”

“Yeah, I did. I came down the stairs on my own tonight,” I said.

Hunter’s face lit up. “That’s great!”

“Thanks,” I said, pride and pleasure swirling around in my chest at the praise. “I’m giving all credit to my personal trainer and his crunchy leaf therapy.”

“What’s crunchy leaf therapy?” Dylan asked.

A blush crept up Hunter’s throat and his face turned an adorable shade of pink. “It’s, um, a training technique,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and ducking his head.

Dylan opened his mouth, but when he looked between us he must have seen something that hinted at what kind of therapy it was because he said, “You know what? I’m choosing not to ask.”

“Good choice,” Hunter said, blushing so hard he was the color of a boiled lobster.

Dylan stood and scooped up the empty plates and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Hunter and me alone. The silence hung in the air between us, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the faint clink of plates in the background. Finally, Hunter shifted in his seat and said, “So tell me honestly, have I totally fucked up my chances here?”

“That depends,” I said, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Are you still against dating shifters?”

Hunter’s mouth curved up. “I am one hundred percent against dating shifters… named Kevin.”

“What about shifters named Luke who work in construction?” I asked. “Would you date one of those?”

“Are you giving me a second chance?” he asked. And I might have been a canine shifter, but he was the one with the puppy dog eyes. If I hadn’t already been half gone over the guy, his hopeful expression would have done it. He reminded me of a labrador begging for cheese—optimistic and adorable.

“You don’t need me to give you a second chance. You’re the one who said no, remember?”

He winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad.” I stood and made my way over to the armchair and sat myself in his lap. “This is just like me with stairs.”

He blinked. “What?”

I draped my arms around his neck and got comfortable in his lap. “Sometimes I have to go up and down a few steps and start again before I know what I’m doing, but I do get there. It just takes trying again. For example, if I asked if you wanted to go on a date, you could totally relaunch and give a different answer. Wanna try it?”

The words sat between us for a few seconds before a slow, hopeful smile spread across Hunter’s face. “I like you a lot, Luke. And I’d really like to date you.”

And he said it with such conviction that I couldn’t help myself. I surged forward and kissed the hell out of him, my fingers tangling in his damp hair. He kissed me back enthusiastically and I rocked my hips, grinding down on his lap until his breath caught. He broke the kiss long enough to ask, “Is that a yes?”

I nodded, then went back to kissing him, and I lost myself for a while. All I knew was the taste of him and the feel of his hands running up my back, his firm touch sending arousal pulsing through me. I moaned against his mouth, rolling my hips against the obvious bulge in his jeans.

He stood abruptly, locking his hands onto the underside of my thighs and hoisting me up with no warning. It was still hot as fuck. “Wanna take this upstairs?”

I nodded again, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me across the room toward a narrow staircase. He pressed his mouth to the side of my throat, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent a shiver up my spine and promised much more, and then he bounded up the stairs, two at a time.