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Mila beamed at her and rushed to fill several mugs and bring them back. She also brought creamer and a bowl of sugar.

Carter downed his entire mug in several swallows, hoping the caffeine would help his body feel a little more stable. Faith ignored him and took her time doctoring her coffee with cream and sugar.

Wait, where did the cream and sugar come from? Actually, where did all the ingredients for the cinnamon rolls come from?

“I know none of this stuff was here yesterday,” Carter said.

Mila smiled at him. “I went out shopping this morning. I couldn’t get much, but I have enough to make a few things.”

Carter’s wolf reared up, angry and upset. The emotions were powerful enough to almost make him drop his mug. Setting it down with a thump, he frowned at Mila. “Don’t do that again.”

Her bright smile disappeared, and she took a step back. “What?”

“Easy, Carter,” Faith said, her voice mild, but her words stern. “Don’t say anything you’ll have to buy diamonds to make up for later.”

Carter ignored the knitter. “Don’t leave without me again. Anything could’ve happened to you out there.”

Faith snorted. “As if you could protect her right now.” The words were said under her breath so Mila couldn’t hear them.

The knitter’s words made shame swamp Carter. He’d failed to even provide for Mila, let alone protect her.

Mila went from looking alarmed to confused. “I only went to the grocery store. It’s part of the job to do that.”

Carter looked confused. “Job?”

Mila nodded her head. “Gio probably didn’t get a chance to tell you. He hired me to be a personal chef for you two.”

Understanding dawned. “Yes! Gio is brilliant, we absolutely need a personal chef.” Pulling his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, he unlocked it and searched for the app he and Gio used to order things for the house. After he found it, he held the phone out for Mila to take. “Order anything and everything you need.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather create a menu or meal plan with you, then I can make a list of items. I don’t want to overbuy.”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving the phone. “I’d rather you overbuy than leave the house alone again. I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.”

Her confusion bled away, and her expression turned to one of sympathy. “I understand. You were attacked, and that was traumatic. Do you have a therapist to talk to?”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Therapist?”

Faith stifled a chuckle. “This isn’t the first time Carter’s gotten beaten up. He tends to find trouble. I think he’s just being overprotective, not acting out because of trauma.”

“I’m not traumatized, and I don’t need a therapist,” Carter said firmly. To prove his point, he tried to stand up so he could take the phone to Mila. “I want you to order what you want. I don’t care if you make me eat salmon for each meal.”

She stepped forward to take the phone before he could try to walk toward her. “I take it you don’t like salmon.”

He made a face. “It’s an abomination. Most seafood is.”

“See,” she said, throwing up her hands but keeping hold of his phone. “That’s why we need to talk. I want to know what you like. If I’m going to be your personal chef, it’s important that I make things you want to eat, not things you're willing to put up with. Knowing you’re not a fan of seafood is vital to my job!”

Carter’s stomach growled, reminding him of the sweet smells filling the kitchen. “I think having one of those cinnamon rolls might be vital for me right now.”

“I second that,” Faith said.

“They’re going to be hot,” Mila warned as she set Carter’s phone down on the island. She fetched plates and dished up several rolls, including one for herself. Carter’s wolf gave a hum of approval at that. They both wanted their adorable round human to keep her soft shape.

His eyes rolled back in his head when he bit into the cinnamon roll. By the sound of appreciation coming from Faith, she was enjoying it also.

He ate it in several bites, then reached over and grabbed the entire pan off the trivet. It was hot, but not so bad he couldn’thandle it. Using his bare hand, he put three more rolls on his plate.

“Good!” he grunted as he demolished them.