I only came to this tiny mountain town to help my sister open her café. It was supposed to be a quick job—get her kitchen up and running, bake a few weeks of pastries, and head back to my very normal, very human life.
Then Luca walked in.
Six foot something of muscle and smolder, all wrapped in flannel and smelling like cedar and trouble. He ordered a cinnamon twist, bit into it like he wanted to ruin me, and suddenly I was imagining a lot more than baked goods in his mouth.
He kept coming back. Hanging around the counter. Watching me like he could eat me whole—slowly. There’s something wild in his eyes, something that makes me forget every sensible reason I should keep my distance.
And when I find out why he’s so intense—why his gaze follows me like I’m the only thing in the room—it doesn’t scare me. It makes me want him even more.
The problem? Wolves are possessive. And Luca… Luca’s not here for just a taste.