Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

“You are welcome!” When I sniffed him, his scent told me he was amused. I didn’t mind being the butt of a joke if it meant I had made him happy. Even though I didn’t understand what about protecting him he’d found so funny. It was still success.

My tail continued to wag as I cut through the line of people gathered at the front and pulled Jeffrey with me.

“Hello. I would like food,” I told the colorful woman at the counter after shoving a man aside. “Here is my wallet.” I pulled out the wallet, leaning against the counter and exuding as much confidence as I could muster as I passed her the…very beat up—I squinted at it—leather rectangle.

She was tiny and her hair was blue.

Which was odd.

Was that normal?

I cocked my head at her, though most of my attention was still on Jeffrey who was—laughing at my side. Laughing. Again.

“Thank you,” the girl said gently, accepting the wallet—like she should—I think. She opened it up, then frowned at me. “Was there a certain kind of food you wanted?” She also smelled amused.

There was silly paper money inside, which she counted as she waited for me to speak.

The man I’d shoved, that stood behind me, huffed something about cutting a line, but I didn’t know what that meant—or care about him—so I pretended not to hear.

The blue-haired girl passed me a large rectangular…paper thing that was sitting beside her on the counter. I opened it, scanning it and recognizing some of the pictures on it as food items I’d had before when Harry brought take-out home.

It reminded me of the catalogs I’d looked at back home with wolves on them. Like you could just flip through and pick what you wanted—and that was that. Or the rectangular paper thing the funny man with the mustache and the pink shirt had placed on the table in Lady and the Tramp before the dogs had kissed.

Recognizing what the itemized list of food was, however, didn’t mean I knew what anything was called—or how to read it. So I closed the damn thing and handed it back.

“I want something good,” I told her seriously. “Do you have squirrel?”

“Do I have…squirrel?” she repeated, her eyes dancing. She turned her attention to Jeffrey and I growled, side-stepping in front of him to block him from view.

“Yes,” I repeated, frowning when I realized by putting myself between Jeffrey and the girl I’d forced him right next to the disgruntled man behind us. So I jerked him in front of me again, figuring she was the lesser of two evils as she would have to climb over the counter to reach him and I could incapacitate her before that happened.

Jeffrey’s scent was amused-happy-pleased, so I couldn’t have been getting this entirely wrong. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, and his spots looked particularly fetching in this light. I hadn’t seen him up close like this in bright light. At least…not in this form. It was different.

“He is pretty,” I explained to her dreamily because it was true, still blocking Jeffrey from view of the rest of the restaurant with my bulk. “And must be protected.”

“I don’t have squirrel, unfortunately. And yes, he is, and should,” she agreed, eyes crinkling. She was agreeing with me, but I wasn’t sure I liked that. Was this a flirt? I was flirting. She should not be flirting. That was my job.

Jeffrey was mine.

I growled at her, “No.” I frowned. “You don’t get to say that too. Only I do.”

“Ooookay,” she hummed, twisting to look at Jeffrey again. “Jeffrey,” she said—and I jolted, rigid, when I realized they knew each other. “What do you want to eat, baby?”

Baby?

He was not an infant.

I glared at her, but my gaze softened when Jeffrey began to speak. The haunted quality to his tone was missing, and his voice was warm. His fingers wrapped around my wrist where I bracketed him against the counter.

“How about two cheeseburgers?” he said, voice soft. “You know what,” he glanced at me, gaze traveling from head to toe. His tongue flickered out to wet his lips and his scent was hungry. My cock jerked, and I clenched my hands into fists, using all the self-control I possessed so that I wouldn’t pin him to the counter so he could feel it. “Make that three.”

The blue-haired woman pulled several paper moneys out of Butters’s wallet and handed the rest back to me along with a few coins. “Here’s your change, baby,” she said, addressing me this time.

“Th-thank you.” I pocketed it again, frowning—confused. I didn’t understand why she’d given me money back? I thought I was paying for dinner.

I suppose I must’ve done it right though, because Jeffrey didn’t look offended.

He picked us a booth—and because he was smart-good-strong he chose the booth that would offer us the best room of the diner and all its exits. With our backs to the wall, we settled into our little corner to wait.