Penny blinked.
Then groaned dramatically into her coffee.
“Oh goddess. Absolutely not.”
“Oh yes.”
She dropped beside me against the wooden planter with enough force to make a few leaves tremble.
Interesting.
Usually Penny floated into rooms.
“That bad?” I asked carefully now.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
And suddenly I knew.
My stomach dropped before she even opened her mouth.
“He’s not my mate,” she admitted quietly.
Well.
Fuck.
The word sat heavily between us.
Because Penny looked wrecked already.
Not crying.
Not devastated.
Worse.
Hopeful.
Like she already liked him enough to let herself imagine impossible things.
I hated that look instantly.
“But…” she added softly.
And there it was.
That stupid little smile again.
Small.
Private.
Dangerous.
