“How will I be sure if I know unless you finish your sentence?” My shoulder bumps his, and he chuckles, nuzzling his nose into my hair in the animalistic way he has.

“What I was saying is, well … this isn’t the first time you’ve given me food.”

“So?” I unwrap my burrito and take a bite, chewing for a moment as I consider his comment. Then, I balk in horror, swallowing dramatically. “You’re not trying to give me those meat jars back, are you? Because that’s a done deal.”

Warner grins, and the sight eases a tight ball in my chest that formed when he hesitated.

“No. Those meat jars are mine. Don’t worry.” He bites into his burrito, chewing slowly and amping up my curiosity. Finally, he swallows. Not looking at me, he finishes his thought. “Exchanging food is part of the mating ceremony werewolves perform. So, gifting it indicates … that you want to mate.”

“You mean have sex?” I’m confused. “Like, we wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given you the meat jars?”

“No!” Warner chokes on a laugh, but he calms down quickly, gazing down at me.

There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes, and for some reason, the sight has me tensing up.

“A mate is a partner. Mating is like our version of marriage. But it’s stronger. There’s an element of magic to it. We’re bound to our mate.”

We stare at each other—him searching, me baffled.

Mating? Marriage?

“So”—I set down my food and clutch my head in my hands, trying to get my thoughts to stop their swirling—“the meat jars were like an engagement ring? Did I propose to you?”

“No, Zoey. No. It’s not like that. Especially because you didn’t know.”

“Then, what are you saying?”

“I’m not—” he cuts himself off, then firms his mouth. “I am. I am saying something.” Warner’s focus on me intensifies. “I want you to be my mate. I want to be your mate.”

Oh God. This is it.

Commitment. The future. Life choices.

“Pine Falls is supposed to be temporary.”

Warner stares at me, face slack, as if I slapped him. Guilt rushes through me. That was the worst response that could have popped out of my mouth.

The worst, but also the truth.

He regains control over his expression, entreating me with his amber eyes. “That was before you came here, right? Before we met. Hell, Zoey. I’m gone for you. I can’t be the only one feeling this way.”

He fists his hand over his heart, and I know exactly what he means.