A Girl and Her Wolf (Howl, #7) Read online

  It was just her and him.

  “Wow, that’s really good,” Colby commented, glancing down at Emma’s self-portrait as he sat down. “You’re really talented.”

  “You think?” Emma stared at the charcoal drawing in front of her. The deep-set eyes, delicate features, and freckled skin were a dead ringer for hers.

  “Yeah, definitely,” he replied. Even though he felt nervous about talking to her in general, he decided to bite the bullet and invite her to hang out with him outside of school—sort of. “Hey, I take this class at an art studio on Saturday mornings. Why don’t you come with me?”

  It seemed like a strange way to connect with her outside of school, but it was the first thing that had come to mind that had in common. Colby had gotten really into his art classes recently. It was one of the things that his therapist had recommended to him after his mate, Meagan, had died, and oddly enough, it was one of the only things that really seemed to help. It allowed him to express himself without whining about his problems to everyone else—which was exactly what he needed.

  “Are there still any empty spots?” Emma questioned as she began to blend her hair on the sketchpad in front of her.

  He tried not to stare at her in awe. That was so not the response he’d been expecting. “Well, actually, we just had a few people drop out, so there’s plenty of room.”

  Believe it or not, he’d actually convinced Steve and Chris to go to the studio with him for the new season, but after a few classes, Chris had said there was no way Colby would ever be able to drag him back. Then, after a few more classes, Steve had been kicked out forever when he’d made a few less than appropriate comments to the nude models during figure-drawing week.

  Turning to Emma, Colby told her, “In fact, it’ll be free for this first class, since my friend just dropped out. You can just take his place.”

  He was pretty sure that wasn’t how it actually worked, but it didn’t really matter. He would use the money that he still had saved from mowing lawns over the summer to pay for it.

  “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to try it out, right?” Emma asked, her eyes lighting up as she glanced over at him. “You’ll just have to write down all of the details for me.”

  “Okay, I will. Oh, and you’re going to need to get a permission slip signed from your parental guardian, I think. I mean, I had to because we had to draw a few naked people, but we’re past that now . . . so maybe you won’t actually have to.” He knew that he was rambling, but he couldn’t help himself. The idea of spending more time with Emma outside of school sent a jolt through him—a jolt that he’d been positive he would never feel again after Meagan’s death.

  “Oh.” Her face fell a little.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve moved past drawing naked people and on to painting fruit,” he reassured her, positive that the idea of figure-drawing had turned her off to the whole idea of taking the class.

  “Oh, no, it’s not that,” Emma replied with a giggle. “It’s just that my parents won’t be home this week, so they won’t be able to sign my permission slip if it’s required. But it’s no biggie. I’ll just forge their signatures. I’ve never gotten caught doing it yet.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the teacher wasn’t listening and then whispered, “I even did it for the field trip we’re having in this class.”

  “I could never do something like that,” Colby commented as he pulled out his own sketchbook and began to work on his self-portrait. It looked like him . . . sort of. On paper, his blonde hair wasn’t quite as curly as it was in real life, and his eyes were a little further apart than they actually were. He’d have to work on fixing it, but right now, all he cared about was talking to Emma. He was just pretending to work on his portrait so the teacher wouldn’t get mad that he was so busy chatting.

  Emma glanced over at him. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “I would just feel guilty about forging a signature, I guess. I don’t like to lie.”

  “I didn’t say I liked it, either,” she pointed out. “But sometimes you just have to do what you need to do.”

  Colby watched her as she went back to working on her self-portrait with such precision and a look of determination in her eyes, even though it was already close to perfect.

  His eyes drifted down to the rest of her body, and he noticed that she was wearing his favorite color: pink. Of course, Emma almost always wore pink, but this particular shade—sort of like a bubblegum color—made her cheeks appear rosier than usual.

  Or maybe it was just that he was noticing, for the first time, how rosy they did look.

  Deciding to change the subject, Colby thought of the first thing that came to mind: her boyfriend. Even though they’d never actually talked about him before, everyone at school knew that they were dating, and he’d seen him walk her to art class plenty of times. “So, how’s Alex doing?”

  She glanced up at him, surprised. “Oh, you haven’t heard the news? I thought everyone knew by now. We broke up, like, a week ago.”

  “Oh?” he asked, trying to seem nonchalant about it. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her, even though he wasn’t really sorry at all. In fact, he was sort of happy about it. It meant that she was on the market.

  And truthfully, he also felt a little relieved. He’d actually completely forgotten about Alex and his relationship with Emma when she’d asked him to stay the night with her, since she was all he’d been able to think about. But he didn’t want word to get back to Alex that he’d spent the night with his girlfriend. It wasn’t because Colby couldn’t kick Alex’s ass if he had to, because he could, with his werewolf strength and all, but he wasn’t really the confrontational type. In fact, he avoided confrontations at all cost.

  “I’m not sorry,” Emma replied, smearing in some charcoal with her finger. She glanced over at Colby sharply, meeting his gaze. “It was bound to happen eventually, and I’m glad it was sooner rather than later. I would have been angry if I had wasted more than a month on the guy.”

  “That bad, huh?” he asked, still trying to stifle his excitement.

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Emma replied, huffing angrily.

  “Did he hurt you?” Colby asked, the end of his question accidentally turning into a low, guttural snarl. Trying to cover it up, he threw his hand over his mouth, forcing a cough into it.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. Luckily for him, she had been so focused on her self-portrait that she hadn’t even been looking at him when he’d asked the question. If she had been watching, she would’ve witnessed his growl in all its glory, with his upper lip pulled back and everything.

  “I’m fine. It’s just . . . you know. Puberty.” He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Puberty? Really? Sore throat! How hard would it have been to say sore throat, instead? He mentally scolded himself, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep over his body, knowing that it was sending red blotches over his skin. In fact, he could even feel his ears turning red.

  His inner wolf had picked the perfect moment to get all over-protective about Emma, but he wasn’t sure which would be worse: Emma thinking that his voice still cracked at sixteen years old, or that he was a werewolf who had just growled because he was being defensive of a girl who he didn’t even have the guts to ask out and who, most likely, wasn’t even his mate.

  To his astonishment, though, Emma giggled loudly—and not in the mean way she’d always giggled at him when she made fun of him. “You’re funny,” she said. “And no, we didn’t break up because of anything like that. There would have been hell to pay if he hurt me physically,” she reassured him. “Normally I don’t air my dirty break up laundry, but . . .” She trailed off, turning to face him to give him her undivided attention.

  Lowering her voice so that no one else would hear, she told him, “He was just so boring. Our whole relationship was just so lame. We always did the same things. Every Friday and Saturday night, we would go to his family’s pizza resta
urant and then we’d go to the movies. He wouldn’t even wrap his arm around me. He just wasn’t romantic at all.” With a sigh, she asked, “Why can’t I ever find a guy like the ones in a Nicholas Sparks movie?”

  Colby was no stranger to Nicholas Sparks’s movies. In fact, even though the rest of the guys in his pack didn’t know it, he owned every single one. It had been a long time since he’d watched any of them, though. Forcing a smile to Emma, he made a mental note to go through his collection later.

  *

  Just as he flipped the page, eager to read more, he suddenly felt sleepy. He struggled to read the words on the page, but before he could get through the first line, his eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 14: Emma

  When she got home from her walk, Emma found Colby lying in bed with her diary splayed open on his chest. His eyes were closed, and he was snoring softly.

  Davenport was sleeping just as soundly in the crib next to him.

  She smiled at how peaceful the two of them looked. She walked over to Colby and picked up her diary. She was going to lay it down on the nightstand, but then she realized that she wasn’t even slightly tired yet. Curious to see what he’d been reading, she took her own diary out into the living room to see where he’d left off.

  Dear Diary,

  I think I met someone. This person—whose name I’m still not ready to tell you yet—is unlike anyone I’ve ever liked before. He’s cute, gentle, and caring. I still don’t know him that well, though. In fact, we’re just starting to get to know each other.

  Emma thought back to when she’d first told Colby that she had a crush.

  *

  “Emma! You came!” Colby said, smiling at her brightly. Aside from him, the art studio was empty. The teacher wasn’t even there yet.

  “Of course I came. It was free,” Emma replied with an eye roll. She glanced around the classroom, which was so much bigger than the dinky room in the basement that their art class was held in at the high school. The room was lined with sinks and cabinets, and there were windows that gave them a beautiful view of the field outside. It was really perfect.

  “So, we’re both a little early,” Colby said. “Class technically doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Do you want to take a walk outside?”

  Emma eyed the green grass outside, which was probably still wet with dew, and the morning sun, which shone brightly. “Yeah, a walk sounds good,” she agreed, turning back to him with a smile.

  He led her out the back door of the art studio and outside. “My Dad and I used to come here when I was little,” he said, motioning to the field. “It’s where he first taught me how to play soccer.”

  “Aww.” Hesitantly, Emma told him, “I never really knew my dad. Actually, I never really knew my stepdad, either. He always ignored me, for the most part. I was just an accessory to his perfect life with my mom.” That was how Emma had always thought of the relationship she had with her stepfather; she was an accessory, someone who just happened to be part of the package when it came to him marrying her mom.

  Colby glanced over at her. “Me and my dad never really did that much together when I was younger, honestly. Soccer was probably the only thing that ever bonded us at all.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Emma replied, sensing that he didn’t really want to talk about his family. Not that she really wanted to talk about hers, either. She searched her head for something else to talk about and found herself asking, “So, what’s it like? To not care what everyone thinks about you?”

  He seemed surprised by her question, but he shrugged. “I guess it’s just a matter of only worrying about what you think and what you want. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

  Emma laughed. “Maybe, but I don’t think people would really believe it. I mean, this is me we’re talking about. All I’ve cared about for the past few years is what I can do to improve my social status,” she admitted. “Can you believe that I had to lie to my friends about where I was going today? I told them I was going away to visit family for the weekend.”

  Colby’s face seemed to fall a little with this information. “But why?” he questioned. “I mean, I get it—you want to be cool. But is taking private classes at an art studio really that uncool? In a way, wouldn’t it make you more superior to the people who haven’t taken them? You get to learn things that they don’t,” he pointed out.

  “That’s one way to look at it,” she agreed. “But my friends don’t seem to think that I should do anything to better myself academically. And as far as hobbies go, they think my only hobby should be shopping. Though I am better at it than anything else,” she said, cracking a smile.

  “I would be willing to bet that you’re good at lots of things,” Colby said. “I mean, you’re really good at art. You probably have lots of other hidden talents, too. In fact, why don’t you sing something for me?”

  She eyed him curiously. “Why?”

  “Just sing something,” he told her. “Sing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”

  “If you want me to sing, you’re going to at least need to choose something I actually know,” Emma replied with a laugh.

  “What about ‘When You Love Someone’ by Bryan Adams?” Colby asked, glancing over at her.

  She shook her head.

  “Please don’t tell me I’m going to need to choose something by Britney Spears or Black Eyed Peas or something,” he replied with an eye roll.

  “Well, I would probably know one of those songs. But how about ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston?”

  “Okay, I can deal with that,” Colby agreed.

  Glancing around to make sure that no one was watching, she belted out the chorus of the song at the top of her lungs. It echoed throughout the field around them. She turned back to Colby. “Well? Why did you want me to sing?”

  “Oh, no reason,” he replied, glancing down at his shoes awkwardly.

  “Tell me,” she insisted.

  “Well, I just thought that you might be a really talented vocalist and that maybe you should try out for American Idol or X Factor, but . . . I was wrong.” He met her gaze. “You should maybe stay away from those shows.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Emma said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully.

  He laughed. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself or anything.”

  “So, what do you do? In your free time, I mean?”

  Shrugging, he replied, “I play soccer. I hang out with my friends. I take art classes. That’s about it.”

  “What about your love life? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Emma pressed.

  Colby hesitated. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Have you told her?”

  “No,” he replied flatly.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I just don’t know if she likes me,” Colby replied. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.”

  “What happened to only worrying about what you think?” she asked pointedly.

  “You got me there.” He shrugged. “I guess I just haven’t been able to work up the nerve yet. What about you? Do you have a crush on anyone?”

  “Yes, actually,” Emma replied quietly.

  Colby’s eyes lit up. “Who is it?”

  She blushed. “I’m not telling you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just not ready to tell you yet,” she replied.

  “Does he go to our school?” Colby questioned.

  She nodded. “Yeah, he does.”

  “Is he a part of your social circle?”

  She shook her head. “No, he’s not, actually. He’s very different from any other guy I’ve ever liked. He seems a lot more sensitive. He keeps to himself more.”

  “Hmm.” Colby smiled. “Well, you know what I think?”

  “What?” Emma questioned.

  “I think that, whoeve
r he is, he’d be happy to know you’re into him,” he replied. “You should tell him about your crush.”

  “Maybe I will.” She smiled. “Oh, by the way . . . I’m having another party on Saturday night. I was wondering if you want to come.”

  “Sure,” Colby agreed. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 15: Colby

  When Colby woke up in the middle of the night, Emma was already sleeping next to him. He frowned, disappointed that they hadn’t gotten a chance to talk before she’d gone to sleep. Then he remembered to check on Davenport.

  He rose to his feet and glanced down in Daven’s crib. He stared up at Colby, but there was a tired look in his eyes.

  Colby picked him up and put him on the changing table. He began to change his diaper, knowing that Davenport would probably fight him like he always did. Daven remained there, though. His eyes seemed to want to flutter shut. Colby had thought that he’d been napping for hours, but Emma must have played with him for a while when she fed him.

  Why was he acting so calm? It seemed strange, but maybe it was because Daven was finally warming up to him.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he and Emma had a pup of their own, after all. He wasn’t ready to tell Emma that yet, though. He wanted to see how the rest of their babysitting venture went before he made a decision.

  As he placed the baby back inside his crib, Colby whispered, “Goodnight, Davie.”

  Daven smiled up at him.

  Colby glanced over at Emma, who was still snoring softly. Well, now what was he going to do?

  It didn’t take him long to figure it out, though. He grabbed Emma’s diary from the nightstand. He could’ve sworn he’d left it open, but she must have closed it before she’d gone to sleep.

  He quickly flipped through the pages, trying to figure out where he’d left off. His eyes scanned over her next entry about her crushing on someone, which provoked a low growl from him. Deciding to skip over that entry, he read the next one.

  Have you ever had someone hate you, even though you have no idea why? I have to tell you, Diary, if looks could kill, Colby Jack would have killed me about ten times today. The weird part is, I thought we were getting along pretty well. He invited me to the art studio he goes to and we really seemed to be bonding.