Claws & Crochet

Part 83

ZOEY

My knocking sounds angry.

Is there a way to knock urgently that doesn't sound like you're in the middle of a temper?

Doesn't matter. Warner will find out I'm not angry when he gets the hell out of his apartment and comes to talk to me.

Okay, I might be a little angry. But not at my werewolf. I'm angry at myself.

How could I have walked away? What was I thinking telling Warner to go find someone else? The idea of him dating another woman, kissing another woman, makes me want to break down this door. Not that I think he's upstairs with some sexy werewolf lady. Hopefully, he would need more than half a day to move on.

But there's no answer.

I step back, staring up at one of the windows of his apartment.

"Warner! Your bike is parked in the alley, so I know you're here!" Unless he walked somewhere? "You are here right?"

Am I yelling at the side of a building for no reason?

Who gives a fuck?

My fist raises to pound again when a voice stops me.

"I'm here."

I turn, and there he is, stepping around the corner of the building, staring at me with wide eyes. His leather vest sits on top of a white T-Shirt. My werewolf biker.

At least, I hope he's still mine.

"Did you come down the other stairs just to pull some sneaky shit on me?" I cross my arms and affect a glare.

His eyes trace over me. "No. I was in the shop."

"Hmph." I mumble as I stare at him. He's so perfect. I mean, not perfect. One of his eyes opens a little wider than the other, there's a chip on his left canine, and his hair is disheveled in a way that was clearly not the product of styling gel. Plus, he tends to make jokes in serious situations, and helps people to the point that he over-extends himself, and he tried to push a lifetime commitment on me after only a handful of weeks.

So, he's not perfect.

He's just perfect for me.

"Are you knocking on my door for a reason?" Warner's smile comes hesitantly.

I hate it. Hate that he's holding himself back. That first night, the biker guy didn't know me, but he still walked right up to my side, multiple times, inserting himself in my life when I was still trying to figure my life out.

I want that unwarranted confidence back. So badly, I decide to skip a few steps.

"I need to apologize, but can I kiss you first?"

Warner steps toward me, his eyes now hot. "You never have to ask."

I pounce on him. Or at least, I try to pounce. Unfortunately, my sore ankle has me stumbling face first into his chest, and I gasp in pain as I try to use the hand with my broken wrist to grasp his shirt before I slide down to the pavement.

"Don't hurt yourself," Warner scolds, quick to grip me under my armpits in a not-very-romantic hold. He sets me on my good leg and wraps an arm around my waist to support some of my weight.

"That was supposed to be a much sexier move. I was envisioning jumping into your arms and wrapping my legs around you."

"That sounds appealing in every way possible. But let's put that on hold until you get some more healing under your belt." Warner grins down at me, smoothing stray hairs away from my face.