Page 37

My grip tightened. "Um. Yeah. Kind of."

His brow lifted, but he didn't push.

"I'm not like a professional or anything... obviously." I bit the inside of my cheek. "It's just a hobby. I used to spend hours in a darkroom my dad had built for me. I was actually thinking of converting Honey's old room into one. I enjoy working with film."

Drew looked completely taken in, his smile wide and eager. "Oh, it shoots film? You're a badass, aren't you pretty girl."

I laughed, surprised. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. That's art. Real patience and vision. Will you show me your stuff sometime?"

I hesitated. "Maybe. But only if you show me yours."

His expression shifted.

I pointed to the sketchbook rolled up and tucked in his back pocket. "That thing's never far away from you. It only feels fair."

Anton made a soft snorting noise behind us, and Drew rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, yeah. Deal."

We finally made it to the lakeside beach, where a huge fire pit was set up with a bunch of blankets and a cooler. Drew offered me a seat, and I lowered myself onto the log beside him. He instantly grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around me.

Even if it wasn't really cool enough for one, I tucked it close because it smelled like him.

When he cracked open the book, I leaned in and immediately forgot how to breathe.

Each drawing was of me.

Sketch after sketch.

Charcoal. Pencil. Colour. Some of them were loose and light, others painfully detailed. My face turned in profile. My hands wrapped around a coffee mug. The curve of my back as I reached for a plate at the pass-through window.

And then, more intimate somehow, my smile, the crease between my brows, my expression when I bit my bottom lip.

I blinked, throat tightening. "It's me."

"What else would I draw, pretty girl?" Drew asked quietly. "It's all I've been able to paint and draw for years now. You stayed under my skin, even after only meeting once."

Goddess.

I had no words. Only a strange, aching warmth that spread from my chest all the way to my fingertips.

Anton, silent until now, shifted beside us. I glanced over, found him watching me. Not with jealousy, but with something more like hunger.

Hope.

I didn't want him to feel left out. I didn't want him to be the third wheel on a two-person date.

So I leaned toward him, nudging him gently. "What about you?" I teased. "What secret art form do you keep hidden away? I bet you knit. You look like a hardcore knitter."

His brow lifted, clearly trying to pretend to be unimpressed, but I saw the twitch of his lips.

"I play poker. And enjoy weapons training."

"Oh! Dangerous and broody. Should have guessed."

"I'm not broody," he muttered.

"Oh, Alpha... I have news for you. You'resobroody. You've been doing nothing but brood since I met you."