Page 49 of Saving Stella

“Well, you have to eat, right? Unfortunately, I didn’t get to do any grocery shopping this weekend, so I don’t have ingredients to cook. What do you usually do for dinner?”

“I eat out. Or get takeout.”

“Oh, I see.”

He started the engine. “Any good Chinese around here?”

“Yeah, there’s one on the way home. We can stop there, I guess.”

He grunted a response, then put the truck into gear.

The silence between them was a little less awkward now, and later that evening, as they ate their takeout on her kitchen table, they even shared some small talk.

“So why did you stop playing the piano?” she asked.

“I wasn’t very good at it,” he said with a chuckle.

“You were seven. And your mom didn’t seem the type to expect you to be a prodigy.”

“I know, and I’m glad.” He scooped more rice from the box and onto his plate. “It just wasn’t my thing, you know? I supposed I liked it enough that my mom didn’t have to drag me to my piano teacher kicking and screaming. But then I went to my first judo lesson, and it all just clicked. That was what I wanted.”

“Judo?”

“Yeah. Then karate and jujitsu … all I wanted was to turn pro, and I did.”

“Pro? Like, being a professional fighter?”

“Yeah. Like an MMA fighter and—” His mouth clamped shut.

“I didn’t realize you fought in the ring. Were you any good?” She had meant that last sentence as a joke, but from the dark expression on his face, he obviously didn’t take it as such. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s fine.” He shoveled more food into his mouth, then chewed a few times before swallowing. “Thanks for the dinner. I can have the office reimburse you for my share.”

“That’s not?—”

The chair scraping across the tile floor cut her off as he got up. Trudging over to the sink, he dumped the rest of his food in the trash and began to wash his dishes.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He seemingly ignored her as he continued the task, and she could only stare at his back as he refused to speak. As her heart sank at his chilly demeanor, something inside her withered in disappointment.

Was that … my wolf?

A sad yowl rang in her ears.

That was definitely her wolf. She just knew it. It was sad, too, that Cliff was once again ignoring them.

Well, no more of this.

She was tired of this hot-and-cold demeanor from him. It only served to get her hopes up and take down her defenses before he would inevitably remind her that she was nothing more than a job to him.

And she was sick of it.

Now she just had to ignore him or find something—or someone else—to distract her.

Chapter 9

When Stella and Cliff arrived at Crestholm early the next day, they were greeted by the sight of food trucks lining up to enter the campus and tents being set up in the front lawn, which was cordoned off with roped fences.