Chapter Seven Erick

“A lright,” I said, looking over at Calum as we rode the elevator down to the first floor. “Are we super sure we want to do this? There’s no going back from this if we all end up in bed together.”

“I like the confidence,” Calum replied, shooting me a nervous smile. “And I think I’m sure. But either of us can call it quits at any moment. No hurt feelings, right?”

I nodded. “Right.”

“What’s the approach?”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s already pissed at us. How are we gonna make him less pissed?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Tell him the truth?”

“Oh yeah. That always goes over well.”

“You’re always truthful with me!”

“Not on the first date, I wasn’t,” Calum shot back. “I told you I was a football player to try to impress you. I’ve never played football in my life.”

“I didn’t know that!” I gave him the most affronted look I could muster. “I gave you a blowjob that night because I thought you were a jock!”

“Have you ever seen me play football?”

I stared at him long and hard. “No, now that I think about it.” I gave him a playful shove, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I can’t believe you lied to me!”

“I guess that explains why you got off so fast that night.”

“Look here you little fucker,” I grinned, pushing Calum up against the wall of the elevator.

“Ooh. I like where this is going. Scold me, Daddy.”

The elevator dinged as we came to a stop at the bottom floor and I stepped away from him, straightening my shirt.

“Your dick is showing,” I said, pointing at the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Let’s not scare Sam away before we even open our mouths.”

“Maybe this is how I pick guys up,” he said, grabbing his cock.

“I don’t think Sam is that kind of guy.”

“I saw the books he reads,” Calum grinned. “Believe me, he’s into it.”

The doors slid open and I took a deep breath.

“Alright… here we go.”

Together we stepped out into the lobby. Behind the front desk, as always, was Sam with a book in his hand. This one, however, looked like a fantasy novel and not his usual dime-store smut paperback. There was a red dragon on the front and a buff shirtless guy holding a sword aloft. However, instead of a damsel at his feet, there was another man, but thinner and nearly naked. So, it looked like maybe it was still smut, but with dragons this time.

At least he was consistent.

Sam looked up the moment we stepped into the lobby, his expression shifting to exasperation before he corrected into an uninterested smile.

“Good afternoon,” he said, going back to his book before we could reply.

“Hey,” I said, stepping up to the desk with Calum tight at my side. “I’m sorry to bug you…”

Sam looked up again, a fake customer service smile on his lips.

“But we were wondering if we could have dinner a little early tonight?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, a touch of irritation in his voice. “I could do that I guess.”

“We’re more than happy to help,” Calum added. “Put us to work.”

“Well, if I’m gonna have help in the kitchen, then we’ll just make enough for everyone tonight.” He slid a bookmark into his book and placed it under the desk. “Are you offering to help make dinner for everyone? It’s a big job.”

“Yes,” I replied. “We’d love to help you.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief, but he got off his chair and waved for us to follow. “Come on then. I have lots of potatoes that need to be peeled and vegetables to chop.”

Calum glanced up at me, his eyebrows raised questioningly. I gave him a nod in return. We had Sam to ourselves for the next hour or more, most likely while we helped him cook. Granted, neither of us knew a damn thing about kitchens. Being next in line at our respective packs meant neither of us had ever cooked a meal. But then again, how hard could it be? They had teenagers working at fast-food places, so it didn’t require anything special, right?

I didn’t know I could be so wrong.

“Motherfucker!” I yelled twenty minutes later for the third time. I pulled my finger back, placing the bleeding tip into my mouth. “Goddammit!”

“Are you two sure you want to help with this?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed in concern as we walked over to me and took the chef’s knife to the sink to be washed. “When you offered, I thought you knew what you were doing.”

“It’s fine,” I grumbled, taking my finger out of my mouth. Thanks to my werewolf healing, the cut had already stopped bleeding and was quickly sealing itself. “I’m just clumsy is all.”

“You’re not clumsy,” Sam replied, giving me some serious side-eye. “I saw the way you hold that knife. It’s frankly, horrific.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his directness. “Well? Then show me how to use it correctly.”

Sam finished washing the knife and brought it back over to me, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if you cut a finger off, I’m not helping you put it back on.”

He stepped up beside me, handing me the knife. Reaching out, he took another from the magnetic strip in front of us and grabbed a carrot, pulling it toward him on the cutting board.

“You have to hold the knife like this,” he said, holding it up and turning the knife over to show me. “With your forefinger draped over the topside of the blade. You use it to steady your movements and keep it balanced.”

I mimicked his position as best I could. “Like that?”

“That’s not bad.” He placed the blade of his knife on the board. “And you’re gonna cut with the closer part of the knife, not the tip. Especially with hard veggies, you want the weight of the blade helping you do most of the work.”

Sam made a few example cuts, and I followed suit, trying to reproduce his movements exactly. It took a few tries, but eventually I felt like I was doing a pretty good job. At least until Sam glanced down at my work.

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing soup tonight,” he laughed, looking over my cuts. “Because those are very different sized pieces.”

“Wait, they have to be the same size too?” I groaned, letting my knife fall to the board. “You didn’t say that!”

“I figured it was a given.”

“But you know I don’t…” I sighed. “I don’t know a damn thing about this cooking thing.”

“Yeah, I put that together on my own funnily enough.”

“Sorry we’re such a project.”

“Speak for yourself,” Calum called from the other side of the kitchen. “I’m a fucking pro at slathering these chickens in butter.”

“He’s actually not bad at it,” Sam conceded.

“Yeah, because a fucking monkey could slap butter on a chicken,” I grumbled.

Sam smiled, nudging me with his shoulder. “You’re doing just fine. It takes time to learn all this stuff.”

The burst of electricity through my system from his touch surprised me. Even with onions, garlic, and all manner of veggies stinking up the place, his scent was still getting through too. Just having him so close, the heat coming off his body in waves, it was driving me crazy. I was happy for the apron because without it, I’d be sporting a very obvious hard on.

“So… Sam…” I began, the nerves kicking in. “I… uh… well, I wanted to apologize for the other day when I… well, you know.”

Sam’s demeanor shifted instantly, his shoulders squaring up as he purposefully looked away from me. “You mean when you tried to cheat on your mate?” he replied in a harsh, but quiet tone so that Calum wouldn’t overhear us.

“Yes,” I nodded. “And I wanted you to know that he and I talked about it. About all of it.”

There was a look of surprise on his face, but he just nodded. “So, he told you about what he did then?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re being honest with one another.”

“We had a lot to talk about.”

“I bet.”

“And we came to a conclusion.”

“And what’s that?”

“We’re still mates and we always will be,” I said, hesitating for a moment. “But… we…”

Sam paused his cutting, looking up at me expectantly.

“Sam?” Calum called. “What do I do with these chickens I just assaulted with butter?”

“I’ll help you with them.”

He gave me one last glance before he put his knife down and headed to the other end of the kitchen to help Calum. I cursed under my breath as I went back to chopping vegetables, kicking myself for not being brave enough to speak my feelings aloud. It turned out that telling some guy you wanted to fuck him was harder than I thought. With Calum things had just progressed naturally. Well, naturally in the sense that we were all over one another from the very first moment we met. We were young and the mate bond was so incredibly strong that neither of us could resist it.

But we were older now, more level-headed, and there was more at stake. The weird pull we felt toward Sam was strong. And although I wasn’t fully convinced a three-way mate bond was possible, I couldn’t help recognizing the feelings again. Still, it was complicated, and I felt like a nervous teenager trying to ask the popular guy to prom. It seemed impossible to say it aloud, but I knew I had to if things were ever going to go anywhere. I resolved to tell him as soon as he came back.

However, after Sam helped Calum, he started another part of dinner at the stove and sent Calum over to help me with the vegetables.

“Well,” Calum said, picking up the knife next to me. “Did you tell him?”

I let out a long sigh. “No. I… I got nervous.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it while I was fisting whole sticks of butter up a chicken’s ass.”

I burst out laughing, sputtering as I pushed the knife away so I didn’t cut myself again. Calum giggled beside me, our shoulders resting against one another.

“God, you are such an idiot.”

“You love it.”

“I really do,” I nodded, wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my sleeve.

“Maybe we could try talking to him after dinner? I could do a little reconnaissance work with the other guests, figure out what Sam’s all about?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” I replied. “I’m just gonna offer to help with dishes.”

“You’ve never offered to help me with my dishes. Should I be jealous?”

“ You had an entire fleet of servants at your house. You’ve never done dishes in your life.”

“I mean, you weren’t exactly poor ,” Calum shot back.

“That’s entirely beside the point.” I gave him a grin and a nudge. “Now help me with these fucking vegetables before I cut my damn fingers off.”