Page 20 of Bullied Pretend Mate (Silverville Firefighter Wolves #3)

“I feel like we could seriously become wedding judges,” Maeve says, leaning forward and plucking one of the champagne-soaked strawberries from a shining silver tub in the center of the table.

My gaze narrows in on her lips, watching the way she wraps them around the berry, already fantasizing about her wrapping them around something else.

We’re sitting under a large white pergola, which is strung with fairy lights. Fluttering white curtains at the corners blow in the wind. It reminds me of something from a Greek island, even though we’re nowhere near the lake’s beach.

“Wedding judges ?” I ask, laughing at her and stealing a strawberry for myself. This wedding is a lot more low-key out by the lake, and Maeve and I sit at a table under the pergola. A candle in the middle of a mason jar flickers by the strawberries.

The theme is all pink, red, and white. A little like a Valentine’s Day wedding, which Maeve mentioned the moment we walked in, marveling at the fact that she managed to match the theme in a pink and white floral dress that hugs her curves and flares out around her knees.

I like the way it covers her like a turtleneck, with its high collar. I like the mesh along her arms, and I haven’t been able to keep myself from drawing my fingers along the material, feeling her warm skin just beneath it.

“Yeah,” she says, talking through the bite of berry in her mouth.

“Like, think of it like a reality TV show or something. You and I, going to weddings. Judging them on their theme, the vibes, the party. It could be a whole competition thing, and the couple that wins gets an all-expenses-paid honeymoon, or something like that.”

“So which one has been your favorite of the three so far?”

“This one,” Maeve says immediately, and I raise my eyebrows at her, surprised that she chose so fast. And also that she’s choosing this one, even though the other one had the ice sculpture and way better food.

“That was a fast answer,” I remark. “Can you tell the audience why?”

Maeve pauses, then laughs at herself. “Because I’m here right now, and the view is very good.

” She pauses, knocking her foot against mine under the table, and it sends a thrill running up the length of my spine.

Then she goes on, laughing again, lolling her head to the side, and saying, “And I think I might be just a little drunk from the strawberries.”

Because I’m here right now is the most Maeve answer I could have asked for. I realize I’m still staring at Maeve, my chest feeling warm and fuzzy, when my parents appear at the side of our table, staring down at us with mild smiles on their faces.

“The two of you aren’t going to dance?” my mother asks, tucking her shawl over her shoulders and looking between Maeve and me.

It’s weird because it almost seems like my parents are coming around to the idea of her and me.

Maybe when we got together and the entire pack didn’t revolt at the very idea, they started to realize that who I’m with wouldn’t be as detrimental to their standing as they thought.

It’s been a strange experience, to have them care about this my entire life—to the point that my mother was going out of her way to hook me up with Annette—only to watch them realize it’s not that important after all.

Besides, I don’t give a damn about my standing.

It’s not like my friends are going to stop talking to me, and our alpha supreme married a Winward, for fuck’s sake.

Phina’s brother was known for running around with the gang here in town, then for being a huge part of the drug problem at the seedy motel.

And near the end, they were starting to get into even more illicit activities. Valerie and Lachlan don’t really like to talk about it, but she was taken by their gang at one point. Kidnapped and brought back to Silverville against her will.

If Xeran can make a Winward the luna, I can be with Maeve.

“I’m too drunk to dance,” Maeve says, leaning over and putting her head on my shoulder.

Without thinking, I brush the copper curls back away from her face, only remembering my parents are watching a moment later.

My father has a strange look on his face, and when he glances at my mom, I realize what it is. Happiness. Pride.

They’re happy that I’m happy.

And that makes guilt shoot through my stomach. What are they going to think when Maeve and I break it off? Did I really go through all this just to break up with the girl my parents finally approved of?

Once again, I have to remind myself that this isn’t real. It’s never been real, no matter how much it feels like it.

No matter how much time she and I have been spending together, no matter how much I’ve grown used to falling asleep next to her and seeing her when I wake up in the morning…it’s not real, and Maeve doesn’t want a mate.

She’s trusting me to do this for her and let her go. That’s the entire point.

“Alright,” she says, pushing up off of me, seeming to have regained some of her energy. “Let’s go dance!”

We stand together, and she takes my hand, tugging me toward the dance floor, her giggles rising up into the night.

When we stop and she tucks her head onto my chest, I realize my heart has stopped spiking in her presence and has started feeling steadier. Pleasant. Easy.

Maeve is home for me.

And that feeling is blossoming into something else—something I don’t quite understand. Or maybe just something I’m afraid to name.

***

When Maeve runs out of fabric again and starts to get frustrated with her lack of progress, I convince her to walk to the ice cream shop with me.

“I’m just…” She brushes her hair out of her face and takes a lick of her strawberry scoop.

I try not to stare at her when she does, the sweet pink stripe of it over her tongue.

“It’s frustrating. The deadline is coming up quick, and I don’t know how I’m going to get everything done.

I don’t use any polyester, and I only order from ethical manufacturers.

But that means the fabric is expensive. And with the number of samples they’re asking for, it’s so expensive.

But I can’t give up this opportunity. I just don’t know what to do about it. ”

“Is the ice cream helping?” I ask when she takes another angry lick.

Looking up at me and breathing a bit hard, a little swipe of pink over her lip, she says, “Yeah. A little.”

Stopping, I reach out and wipe it from her skin with the pad of my thumb. “Maeve.”

“Yes?”

“I want to give you money.”

She rolls her eyes, turning away from me and holding her hair down with one hand to keep it from blowing into her ice cream. “We’ve already talked about this, Felix—I am not taking your money.”

“Think of it as a loan, then.”

“It’s just—”

“I have enough in my savings to front you the cost of the fabric,” I say, stepping around in front of her. “And you know what? Actually, no—I don’t want it back. I want a chance to invest in this early. Before it blows up and goes global.”

“Felix—”

“ No , Maeve. Think about how much I’ve done for you,” I’m smirking at her, forcing her to smile, too. “The least you can do is let me get in on this whole thing before you go public. I want to be rich like Lachlan, have a whole collection of different bikes to ride.”

“Valerie said he only has the one.’

“You get the point, Maeve.”

She bounces on her heels, looking left and right, then sighs and looks down at her ice cream before flicking her eyes back up to me. “ Fine. But don’t think your little twisted narrative is getting to me. I am paying that money back to you. And that’s final.”

“We’ll have to fight over it, then,” I say as I notice someone stepping out of a door down at the end of the street.

I realize who it is. And where we are.

“Come here,” I say, grabbing her ice cream and dropping it in the trash.

“ Hey! ” It’s the most offended she’s ever looked, and I’ll have to buy her a new one after this. But now, I grab her, box her in against a brick wall of a brownstone, and kiss her.

At first, she’s a bit resistant, but then she melts into me, and I sigh into the kiss. She tastes like strawberries, sweet and cool, her tongue sending a chill down my spine when it pokes into my mouth, probing, gentle.

After a moment, I pull back, tuck her hair back, and smile down at her as she looks up at me, her eyes moving back and forth between mine, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” I say a little louder than I need to, twirling her hair around my finger, watching her sharp intake of breath, the way she focuses on me, her pupils growing.

“Felix,” she breathes, and at that moment, she must see Mr. Stone behind me, because she lets a smile spread over her face. “I—”

“Ms. Villareal.”

We jolt apart, and Maeve delivers a great performance, acting like she didn’t see him walking down the street toward us.

“Oh! Mr. Stone, it’s nice to see you.”

“You as well,” he says, his eyes flitting between me and her, his nostrils flaring. He can smell our scents mingling together, a little more since we refreshed the bites last night.

Mostly without talking about it. Sometimes, when we’re tangled up together, it just happens. I only ever do it when Maeve does it first.

“Have a great night,” Maeve says, waving after him as he turns and goes, waving back at us.

“I think he bought it,” I say, turning and watching him go, his gait a little lopsided as he moves.

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing hard, forcing her eyes back to me. When she does, there’s something in her expression I can’t quite read. “I think he did, too.”

We stand like that for a moment, watching each other, then she punches me in the arm.

“Hey,” I say, jumping back and rubbing at it, though it didn’t hurt. “What was that for?”

“You threw my ice cream away!” She’s already turning, marching away, calling over her shoulder. “And you owe me a new one!”