Page 8 of I Hate Myself For Loving You (Wolf Mates #7)

Chapter Seven

N o sooner had she righted herself than the back light came on, blinding her with its glare.

“What the hell?” was Lassiter’s inquiry as the door whipped open and he stared down at Avery in her wolf form.

Hooo boy, she was in the shits.

Foiled.

Caught.

Red handed even.

However, as she looked up at him, his face split into the first grin she’d seen him display since meeting him again.

The back of his hand reached down with tentativeness, much like he’d done when he worked in the shelter with her and a new animal was brought in, frightened and leery.

Avery decided she didn’t have much of a choice. She could run away and not look back, but she could also gain some valuable information if she played this right.

It was sneaky.

It was covert.

It was downright despicable.

She could feel guilty about being a sneak.

Though, if she did this right, she might help save the Adams and their land.

And it was also pure fricken’ genius.

Things were looking up.

Score one for Avery Palmer.

“Hey, puppy, aren’t you pretty? Are you lost?” Lassiter scruffed her ears with his wide palm. “What an unusual coat. You’re almost white,” he cooed in wonder, kneeling down to stare into her eyes.

Pretty. Yes, she was rather pretty in wolf form, wasn’t she? All the other wolves said so. Preening, Avery sat back on her haunches and allowed Lassiter to run a strong hand over her muzzle.

Oh, the man and his hands. Honestly, they could be used as weapons of mass hormonal destruction.

Avery had to remind herself that as a “puppy” she’d more than likely be very hesitant with a stranger. So she backed away from him and looked the other way, refusing to meet his eyes—a clear sign a dog was hesitant.

“You hungry, puppy?” he asked in an obvious effort to tempt her inside with food.

“Hungryhungryhungry,” Bud twittered from his shoulder, flapping his colorful wings.

Lassiter gave her a wink, his handsome face playful and inviting. “Tell you what. I’ll leave the door open and if you’re so inclined, you just come on in,” he invited noncommittally, his voice swirling in her ears, husky, hot, calming.

“Comeonincomeonin.”

Damn, that was some parakeet. Her experience was that they were difficult to train and rarely learned the variety of words this bird who went by the name Bud spouted.

Her indecision led to a pivotal choice. She had nothing to lose by gaining access to the inner sanctum of Lassiter’s home and everything to gain.

Granted, she was in disguise as a dog and that was, at the very least, foul play. But she had to think of all the animals he’d wipe out and the devastation he’d create for Max and his family.

Thus, the game was afoot.

Poking her head around the corner, Avery cautiously placed first one paw, then the next over the sliders. Lassiter, tall and firm, stood by the small kitchen sink, tearing something up that he’d taken from the fridge.

Avery’s nose lifted, trying to catch the scent.

Ugh, beef. Steak maybe. She sniffed the air again. Definitely steak. With onions. Bleh.

“I see the call of food wins,” he said over his broad shoulder with satisfaction and a delicious grin.

Crap. But if she was going to play the part, she was going to have to put up or shut up.

Setting the bowl down in front of her, Lassiter pulled a chair out from the small, rickety kitchen table in the trailer’s tiny kitchen, leaning forward on his elbows to watch her, waiting for her to approach the bowl.

Sniff! You need to sniff with curiosity.

Yes, she should sniff the bowl. That was very dog-like and totally in character. Nudging the bowl with her nose, she swiped her tongue over the bits of meat he’d taken such care to shred. Her stomach lurched.

Lord, the humiliation when he said warmly, “Gooood girl. See? I won’t hurt you. I’m guessing you’re a girl because you’re so pretty. I’ll look later to be sure. For right now, you just enjoy.”

No, no, no. Dear God, the humiliation of it all. She was not spreading her legs, er, paws for Lassiter Adams ever again. He was going to have to go with the assumption that she was a girl or she’d bite his hand off.

Her stomach rolled, looking at the bowl of meat. Definitely steak and decidedly a few days old. Licking at it with a light tongue, she found she had to grit her teeth to keep from yarking the meat right back up. Avery silently sent an apology to all the animals she’d vowed never to eat.

Bud hopped from Lassiter’s shoulder and onto her back, landing with a tiny thump, his small talons digging into her spine. He dipped his head and nipped at her fur.

For the love of Pete.

“Bud, be nice. See how nice the puppy is? You be nice, too,” Lassiter warned in a gently admonishing, child-like voice.

Um, this was turning her brain inside out on a gazillion different levels.

Closed mouthed, pissed off at the world, over the top manly-man was talking to her like she was a toddler.

Coaxing her to eat, stroking her fur, talking to her all cutesy.

It would be desperately funny if she could actually use this little interaction to mock him.

He’d spent far too much time alone in her estimation.

He didn’t have the decency to even crack a smile at a human, but he sure was Mr. Warm and Sunny with an animal.

Though, to be honest, who could blame him?

People hadn’t always been nice to Lassiter and even though he didn’t ever show it, maybe it had left him scarred.

“Are you full, pretty girl?” Lassiter inquired; his entire face alight with complete tranquility. “C’mon, you can do better than that. Eat up, Princess.”

“Eatupeatupeatup,” Bud encouraged in a squawk.

Princess? Princess? Oh man, if she ever revealed her true self to him, this was some serious ammunition to be used at a later date.

Now, onto the matter at hand. This letter… Where would Lassiter keep a letter and how was she going to find it?

Rising on all fours, Avery decided some investigation was in order.

Turning to get an idea of the layout of his trailer, Avery made a beeline down a short hall to find the bedroom with Bud still clinging to her back.

This letter, something that obviously held significance, would probably be there, right?

It was a small trailer. He likely didn’t have an office—not by the looks of the blueprints and other assorted papers on his table in the kitchen.

The hallway was short, covered in shag carpeting, worn and fraying.

Lassiter’s bedroom was small, merely enough to turn around in and not much more.

There was a big bed, rumpled but mostly made and an attached bathroom in that ugly yellow some older trailers were painted.

There was a pile of dirty laundry she tried to delicately step over.

Swooping her head down, she grazed a stray sock.

“Ahhh,” she heard his deep voice rumble. “I know what you want to do. You wanna play, don’t you?”

Play? As in with the dirty sock? How vile.

Lassiter stooped down and picked up the sock. The muscles in his arm flexed enticingly and Avery had to look away from his yumminess. It blinded her to her mission.

The letter .

Dragging the sock beneath her snout, Lassiter teased her with it, shaking it in the manner used to encourage play.

Oh, no, she was not putting his dirty sock in her mouth. Nuh uh.

“Get it, c’mon, girl, get the sock,” he encouraged in that same stupid high pitch, smiling like a kid.

If she could roll her eyes right now, she would. For crap’s sake. But what choice did she have. If she was going to pretend to be a dog, she’d better get to pretending.

Making a halfhearted attempt at “playing,” Avery nipped the sock, successfully getting it between her teeth and giving it a slight tug.

Lassiter smiled broadly again, clearly pleased she’d taken the bait.

What the hell was happening here? Who was this man?

He tugged back, swishing the other end of the sock around in circles spiritedly.

Bud flapped his wings at being jerked so suddenly when Avery gave a small growl and pulled the other way.

His wings flapped, carrying him to the tall, chipped dresser that was crammed into the corner.

Digging her paws into the carpet, Avery grabbed hold of the sock and yanked hard, pitching Lassiter forward.

She gave a satisfied grunt. Girl werewolves rule, weird meat murderers drool .

Plopping down beside her to lean his back against the bed, Lassiter put an arm around her back and commented, “You know, I envy you, Princess. If I could be like you, I’d bet life would be a whole lot easier.”

What now?

Be like her?

To her horror, he caught her off guard when he lifted her back leg and eyeballed her crotch. “You are a princess,” he decided, again, obviously pleased with his assessment of her private bits.

She scoffed with a snort. A princess indeed.

Avery yanked her leg back from his hand with a snuffle. How utterly degrading.

“Don’t be offended, pretty. I was just checking,” Lassiter assured her with an affectionate pat on the head.

Turning, Avery gave him her back end and swished her tail in his face. Check this .

Avery let her mouth open wide, pushing the sock to the floor with her tongue, fighting not to gag.

It fell soundlessly to the carpet in a stinky lump then she turned around and sent Lassiter a disinterested glare, telling him playtime was over.

If he would just go away, she could rifle his bedroom. But Lassiter had other ideas.

Stroking her spine, letting his fingers tangle in her coat, he asked, “So what’s your story, Princess? You lost? A stray?”

Father God, he wanted to bond. What else could she do but listen? Sitting back on her haunches, Avery let him ramble, watching his delicious mouth move.

He looked deeply into her eyes, almost making her cringe for fear of discovery. “Do you need a home? You could always stay here with Bud and me. We don’t have a lot of room, but we can make adjustments. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a pet. Whaddya say? Wanna hang out with us?”