Half an hour later, I'm staring at Jordan—innocent grin, that “scolded pup” slump, and my wolf snort.
I let out a sharp laugh. "You're getting bold, huh? Lying through your teeth now."
He shrinks back, neck tucking like he's bracing for a pack leader's snap. “
"Ella, come on. Would you have shown up if I didn't stretch the truth a bit?"
My gaze flicks to the flowers behind him: wild roses, the same ones Matthew once wove into my hair. My wolf goes rigid. “Jordan. Don't tell me you're gonna propose.”
He freezes—scent spiking, nervous and desperate—then nods hard, leaning in. “Yeah. I wanna be your bond-mate. Take care of you, the pup—be the rock Ryan wasn't. Our den, just us—”
I slam a hand on the table.
"Not happening. I've got someone I care about. Even if I break my bond, it's not
