Claws & Crochet

Part 34

WARNER

"Are you preparing for the apocalypse?"

Zoey doesn't give me the I-have-my-own-bunker-in-the-basement vibe, but I'm looking at a lot of jars of food on her kitchen table. I drove over here after showering off the grime from my workday, wondering what Zoey had gotten into since I left her the night before.

Apparently, it's got something to do with jars.

"Not me. I wouldn't put it past Grandma Minnie though. She didn't really trust people. That could easily include the human population as a whole." Zoey clutches a stack of sticky notes with a pen poised above them as she leans in close to examine one of the jars. She writes something, sticks it to the top, and moves on to the next.

I step in closer to read the blue post-it.

Fruit?

"What's with the question mark?"

Zoey picks up a jar, staring at the contents with a frown.

"Minnie didn't label any of these. I guess she knew just by looking. I'm trying to figure out what each one is."

"Why don't you just open them."

She wrinkles her nose, still glaring at the container in her hand.

"People jar meat sometimes, don't they? If I'm going to open a jar of raw meat, I need to brace myself."

"Because you're worried it'll have spoiled?"

"Oh gosh." Her eyes flick to my face, wide in horror. "I hadn't even considered that. I will vomit if that happens. Seriously. I will spew." Zoey sighs, her shoulders drooping as she sets down her jar and sticks it with a note that simply has one big question mark. "Of course, I'll probably puke even if it hasn't spoiled."

"You hate raw meat that much?"

"I'm a vegetarian, so yeah." She reaches for the next mason jar.

"A vegetarian?" The wolf in me lets out a silent, disbelieving huff. "How can you be a vegetarian?"

"Well," Zoey talks as she holds another jar up to the lamp, "I wake up in the morning, and I don't eat meat. Then I go through the day, and I don't eat meat. And I get ready for bed, and I don't eat meat. Then I find another day has gone by, and I'm still a vegetarian."

"Smart ass," I mutter even as I grin.

She smirks over at me, then offers up the jar. "Any guesses?"

Little does she know; I don't have to guess. With my supernatural nose I can catch traces even through the unopened lid. I take it from her and breathe deep.

"Apples and spices. Probably pie filling."

"Seriously? You can tell that?"

I shrug, making as if it's no big deal. "People jar stuff around here. Guess I just know my preserves."

"What about this one?" She hands me another, and soon I'm the one picking up each jar, making as if I'm examining the contents with my eyes when really, I'm using my nose. Zoey follows behind with her pen poised to write down whatever I say.

By the end, every jar is labeled, and I'm hungry.

"I'm assuming by your previous shocked reaction, that you are not a vegetarian." Zoey doesn't look at me as she organizes the jars, so she misses my grimace.

A life without meat? My wolf would stage a revolt.

"Pure carnivore. Or omnivore, I guess. Hope we can still be friends." The answer starts off as a joke, but then a tinge of panic pricks at the back of my brain.

What if Zoey is looking for a partner that shares her eating habits?

My wolf shifts restlessly under my skin.

Zoey doesn't seem to notice my unease as she gathers about ten jars together and pushes them toward me.

"On the contrary. An omnivore is exactly what I need. Please accept these jars of meat as a token of my affection." Zoey grins up at me.

She has no idea what she just did.

"You're . . . gifting me food?"

"Well, I'm not about to eat it. And I don't like the idea of an animal having died, and me just throwing them away. You should take them and eat them. Here, I'll get you a bag." Zoey leaves the room, which gives me a minute to compose myself.

She doesn't know, I remind myself and my wolf.

Zoey has no idea that the offering of food is one of the main parts of a mating ritual. That it's the go-to method for wooing a werewolf.

Doesn't change the fact that my wolf preens under the offering of an edible gift, meanwhile begging me to take her. Make her my mate. Werewolves aren't known for subtlety in the world of romance. Once we figure out what we want, we go for it. I'm trying to strike a balance that won't push her away.

Zoey returns to the kitchen area with a cloth bag and carefully places the jars into the sack, pausing halfway through. "Can you carry this while riding your bike?"

The image pops into my head. Me cruising through town, a shopping bag over my shoulder. If any of my pack mates spot me, I'll be teased for years.

Still, I shrug. Who gives a damn? It's a gift from Zoey. If she wants to shove the food into a hot pink purse, I'll deal.

"I don't want you to drop them. Let's go put them in your saddle bags." She finishes packing them and heads for the front door. Bruce follows on her heels, thick tail wagging in anticipation. I mimic the animal, trailing after the beautiful woman.

Zoey is kind of a mess today, wearing loose overalls paired with a ragged T-shirt. There are brown splotches all over her outfit, that my nose tells me are wood stain. She's piled her honey brown hair on top of her head, but random strands tumble free. There's a subtle hint of dustiness to her scent, probably from pulling out all these long-stored preserve jars.

Seeing her like this makes me want her more. She's so . . . relaxed. In her element. Zoey never puts on a mask or a show, and every different version of her is just another glimpse at the woman I know I'm falling for.

The sun dips below the trees, signaling the quickly approaching night. Normally I like working at my uncle's construction site, but today felt like I was counting minutes until I could ride back out here. Until I could talk to Zoey again.

"Hold your helmet." She's beside my bike, having opened one of the saddle bags and pulled out the head protection I wear every time I ride now. When I accept it from her, our fingers graze, and her eyes flick to mine before returning to her task. It's not long before the two leather bags are bulging with the glass jars.

"There. Good to go." Zoey smiles up at me, and I'm done holding back.

My arms snake around her waist, pulling her close.

Author's note: Oh no ... the werewolf loves a vegetarian! 🥦🐺