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The first time I see Peter walking around with something hanging out of his mouth, it’s all I can do not to tackle him to the floor and grind down on him like an adolescent.
The only thing that stops me from doing so is the knowledge that I will forever be banned from Beacon Hill’s sundries shop, and I would besides scar my daughter for life.
“Dad?”
Allison looks at me with concern and I smile at her. “Yeah?”
Her gaze swings from my face to the object of my attention, back to my face, and then she groans. “DAD…”
Peter, the little shit, starts snickering. I crumple my ice-cream sticky napkin and fling it at him. “You could try to help me out here,” I say, frustrated.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, and takes a long, swirling lick of his ice cream cone. “I’m just enjoying my double-chocolate cone. With nuts.”
“Peter!”
He grins at my daughter, bright and amused. “It’s not like you had to sit with us,” he points out. “You could’ve waited for a seat somewhere else…”
The heat wave in Beacon Hills had driven half the town to Milk and Sugar for a cone, and the parlor had been so packed we hadn’t found a place to sit. It was Allison who’d shoved Stiles further into Derek’s side and sat down, and I’d been forced to sit next to the object of my affection as he tongue-fucked an ice cream cone.
I don’t know how much more I can take as he laps at his fingers, snatching the chocolate drops away from his skin. I turn my head away from him, knowing without a doubt that the two wolves at the table know exactly what Peter’s actions are doing to me. “So, Stiles. How are your classes going?”
Stiles, bless him, starts blabbing away at a hundred miles an hour about everything from lacrosse to chemistry to the new YouTube video he saw on ninjas. I watch Derek melt into Stiles’ side the longer the boy speaks. It’s obvious how much the Alpha relies on Stiles and cares about him.
I get nudged in the ribs and I turn my attention back to Peter. “What?”
He points; I follow his sightline to see Isaac and Scott walk in. Scott immediately brightens as he sees Allison, and I sigh. “Allison, any chance you texted your boyfriend that we were here?”
“Well, I think father/daughter night got canceled the minute we sat down at the table,” she says, and smiles. “So I didn’t think an extra pair of bodies would hurt.”
Before I can say anything else, Peter says, “Why don’t we leave the children to their flirting? I’m sure that Stiles wouldn’t mind driving Allison home, or Isaac would.”
“I’m being maneuvered out of my own plan,” I complain without heat. Allison rolls her eyes at me, but she’s still in a good mood. “Are you sure you don’t mind me abandoning you, Allison?”
“Seriously, Dad. Go. Have fun with Peter. Play nicely,” she says, and wags a finger at us both.
I get up and, as one last gesture, I lean over and hug her. “Love you, Alls.”
“Love you too, Daddy. Now get out of here so I can smooch on my boyfriend without you hovering.”
I shake my head and walk toward the exit, Peter in tow. When we get outside, I groan at the wall of heat we walk into. “Now I remember why we were getting ice cream to begin with,” I say, frowning.
He grins. “I love it when it’s hot like this in October. It’s like extra summer.”
“Extra summer?” I ask, as we head into the parking lot. I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock the truck. “Get in, I’ll drive you home.”
“Okay. You remember I’ve taken your daughter and her boyfriend surfing, right?”
I nod and sit in the driver’s seat, watch him get into the passenger seat. As he sinks into the chair, he shrugs. “When the water stays warmer like this, late in the year, it makes for better waves.”
“I never pictured you as a surf enthusiast,” I say.
“I was even worse when I was young. My dad…”
He stops, stiffens, curls into the passenger side door. I don’t know what else to do except reach across the armrest and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”
“No, I… I haven’t thought about Indian Summer in a long time,” he whispers. “My dad – my brother – we’d drive to Pasadena or down the coast, rent a cheap motel and spend a weekend out on the water. I was maybe fifteen? Sixteen? We’d spend all day together, goofing off. It was one of the few memories I have of… before. Good memories.”
He stares out the window and I make a spur of the moment decision. I put the car in gear. I drive us to the Hale house, and we don’t talk. Not until I pull into the driveway of the half-refurbished home. When I put the car in park and kill the engine, he looks at me in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Anyone else home?”
“No?”
I get out of the truck and walk around to his side, open his door. “You should invite me in,” I say, as he slides off the seat and into my space. “Show me your surfboard.”
“Was that supposed to sound like a sleazy pick-up line?” he asks, and I roll my eyes. “Or was that sincere interest in one of my favorite hobbies?”
“Maybe both,” I admit. “I’m not exactly on my game anymore, you know.”
He leans into me, nuzzles his nose into my chest. “That’s probably what makes it so attractive,” he says, and his ears pink up. “Not that you weren’t attractive before…”
I laugh, reach up to cup his chin with my fingers. The kiss isn’t anything more than a brush of lips, but there’s something nice about having the ability to be close to him. “Take me inside and show me your board. I want to learn more about your hobbies, okay?”
He steps back and scratches the back of his neck. “This means I have to learn about hockey, doesn’t it.”
“You bet.”
He groans theatrically, spins on his heel, and I follow him into the house. “It’s starting to look like a real home again,” I say, offering soft words of encouragement to him. “Are you doing it in the same styling as it was, or…?”
“We’ve made a lot of changes,” he says. He speaks softly, as though raising his voice will disturb the ghosts around us. “The contractor’s been instructed to completely overhaul the kitchen to Stiles’ specifications. It’s going to be huge when it’s completed.”
“Stiles’ specifications, huh?”
Peter chuckles. “He cooks. He’s teaching Derek how not to burn water. The kids are getting into it, too. One of the first items on the agenda after the completion is a celebration. John’s going to barbeque… you’re invited, you know. You and Allison and Vic…”
“I’m not bringing Victoria here, Peter,” I interrupt, before he can say it. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, she doesn’t understand how I could feel for you the way I do.”
He stops short and I can’t stop in time to not bump into him. He looks at me with widened eyes. “How you feel for me?”
“Yes,” I say. “Peter… you can smell the lust, I know. But you should realize by now I genuinely like you.”
We stand in the hallway staring at each other until he blinks. “I don’t remember how to do this,” he says.
“Do what?”
“I told you I wanted anything you’d be willing to give me,” he says. “But I thought you just meant sex. Not… not more than sex. If you had a wolf’s sense of smell, you’d know the lust went both ways. But… I really like you, too. And I don’t know how to be with someone I like. It’s been a long time for me.”
Before the fire, I realize, wincing. I don’t have the words to say anything – not sure if an apology could even cut the pain of what Kate did – and instead choose to lean into him and kiss him. “I’m not judging you,” I say. “Just be you.”
“And if I’m not sure who that is anymore?”
“Then let me learn all your parts.”
He steps into me so we’re chest to chest and nuzzles into my throat. I should, on some level, be afraid of him. But I can’t make myself hold my guard up when he whines and presses closer. “Peter.”
“Hmm?”
“Your surfboard wouldn’t happen to be in your bedroom, would it?”
“What surfboard?”
I start laughing and link my fingers with his. “Take me to bed,” I say.
We can work out the rest of our lives later.