Skipping over John’s details was the right choice. She knew Kenna would push her to “be more available” when she found out John was good looking, possibly single, and in Lizzie’s vicinity. Although—was he single? She had the impression he was. Why was that? Then she remembered—no ring. She never noticed details like that. Odd that she’d noticed, and even more so that she’d remembered.

Back to the point. She reminded herself that she didn’t want Kenna shoving her at any man. Even smoking hot ones. Really.

Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief. No question—Kenna would grill her mercilessly. But it looked like she planned to wait until tomorrow, after Lizzie’s meeting with John.

Chapter 5

John trotted towards Lizzie’s house. Last night he’d come too early; her dogs and a neighbor’s dog had barked in alarm at his approach. Her dogs were a mild nuisance. They’d been convinced he was a critter, not a human, as he’d sat and talked with their owner on the porch. John’s muzzle widened in a toothy grin. Not a squirrel, boys.

Tonight, he’d waited until well into the night when they’d all be asleep. If he was quiet and had a little luck, he should be in and out without disturbing humans or animals.

His nails made a quiet clicking sound on the sidewalk, so he moved over a few feet to the grass. He stopped, nose pointed into the wind. His human nose was sharp but practically useless in comparison to his wolf’s. He inhaled deeply, letting each puff of wind bring with it a vivid picture in his mind. Humans, exhaust, car oil, gas, cat urine, garbage. A hint of coyote, not recent. The neighborhood cats should be thankful. His visits would keep the coyotes away for several days. He chuffed in amusement. One whiff of werewolf and they’d probably consider this a no-go zone for a while.

Then he caught it, and his amusement vanished. That most intriguing smell, Lizzie. Naïve, uncooperative, annoying Lizzie. He caught her scent as he came closer to her house and the hair on his neck and back stood on end. Not unlike the moment when she’d first opened her front door to him. Pale skin framed by dark curls, and light eyes framed by darker lashes. Only later had he noticed her eyes were blue. His first thought had been focused more on perfect, creamy, pale skin. As her T-shirt slipped to one side, his eyes had strayed to her bare shoulder and lower, where just a hint of the upper curve of her breast showed. And then he’d remembered why he was there and had shoved his foot inside the door, determined she’d hear him out.

He shook his head and gave a short huff to clear his nose. He wanted to run. To stretch his legs and tear through the open spaces. But he was here for a very specific purpose. He turned back in the direction of Lizzie’s house and continued up the road.