Friday

After school, I put on the only button up shirt that I owned that still fit me. I tucked it into black dress pants with black boots. I looked good, but did I look like boyfriend material? I'd find out.

I drove my dad's car to Bella's. She ran out onto the porch to greet me while I parked.

"Hi," she said, almost shy.

I took one step up the porch steps, then another. Then Bella jumped me, wrapping her legs around my waist and clinging to my shoulder with her arms. I caught her, holding her by the butt. Then her mouth was on mine. We were kissing frantically as I brought her into the house. She was grinding her core against me.

I shut the door behind us then pinned her against the door, grinding my dick ever so gently into her core as we made out.

My dick was so hard, grinding on her like that. "Couch," she whimpered, "let's go to the couch." She was pointing so I followed her lead.

I sat on the couch with her on my lap. I was kissing down her neck and she was grinding on my dick through our pants. "You look so hot in that," she said, unbuttoning a few buttons, then licking my pec.

I lay her down on the couch and just started dry humping her like the teenage boy I was. "You look sexy in everything I've seen you in, so sexy."

I was kissing her passionately, enjoying the closeness, hoping she was enjoying it too. I kept going, grinding against her gently, relentlessly. Then her body clenched underneath me and I looked into her face. She was fucking orgasming! I kissed her a minute longer.

"I need to use your bathroom," I said. She pointed. I went into the downstairs half bath where I finished jerking off and cleaned myself up.

I went back to the couch and pulled her onto my lap. "That was unexpected," I said, kissing her cheek.

She nodded, "but I really liked it."

"Me too."

"What did you go to the bathroom for?" she asked.

"Oh, so I wouldn't, uh, make a mess in my pants."

She giggled. "Ok. I hope you don't mind that I did that. You just look really hot."

"I thought I was doing it," I said, briefly kissing her lips.

"Well I started it and you, um, you finished it." She wagged her eyebrows once.

I smiled at her. "You're the best."

She bit her bottom lip, then she bit my bottom lip. "You're distracting me from cooking."

I kissed her again, our tongues dancing to their own beat. Eventually I pulled away. "Let's go cook."

She stood up and I went with her. "We're making pot roast. I seasoned it this morning and it's on the stove. I just have to turn it every half hour or so."

"When was it last turned?"

"I'm turning it every top and bottom of the hour, so just before you got here."

"Ok."

"We're also making mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, corn and broccoli with cheese sauce. I'd like to make peanut butter brownie bites if we have time. They're one of my dad's favorites."

"Are the biscuits from a can or do you have some dough rising somewhere?"

She lifted a tea towel to show me the risen dough. I had expected canned biscuits, so that was a fun surprise.

"So do we need to chop potatoes next?"

"Rinse, peel and chop. Can you handle that?" She opened her silverware drawer and I grabbed a peeler and knife.

"How many potatoes?" I asked.

"How many can you eat? Then double it."

I made a pile on the counter then meticulously washed each one.

"Where should I put the peels? Do you guys have a compost pile?"

"No, my dad doesn't like them. He says they stink and attract rodents, so into the trash." She pulled out a white trash can from under the sink.

Over the next few minutes, she watched me peel the potatoes. "You're distracting me again."

"How so?"

"You've peeled potatoes before?" she asked.

"Of course. Who hasn't?" Then I thought about it. "Edward hadn't, huh?"

She shook her head. "He was born in 1901 to a fairly wealthy family. I taught him how to peel his first potato. For someone so fast, he was incredibly slow at it. At the same time, if left to his own devices, he'd peel most of the potato into the trash so all I had to cook was this teeny little thing." She pinched her fingers to show just how small the potatoes were after Edward peeled them.

I laughed at the imagery. "You should stick with humans from now on."

"How about just one man who turns into a wolf?"

"Perfect." I smiled at her. "Now what are you supposed to be doing, besides admiring my peeling skills."

"I'm going to start the brownie bites. I think we'll be able to get everything else done and those need to cool before I add the peanut butter drizzle."

She started measuring dry ingredients in one bowl. In a second bowl she melted butter in the microwave. She whipped up all the wet ingredients, then started folding in the dry stuff. I admit I was distracted watching her work. I finished peeling and started chopping, still distracted.

The way her body was moving had me transfixed. She was small and the bowl was big so it was like a whole body dance, watching her whip and stir and fold. She poked her tongue out in concentration as she worked. So fucking cute!

I felt a sharp prick on my finger.

Shit.

I bled on one of the potatoes.

Shit.

I brought my finger to the sink and started rinsing it off.

"Are you ok?" Isabella ran up beside me at the sink. "Oh my God! That looks deep. Maybe we need to take you for stitches."

"No, Isabella," I said, showing her the wound. "Just give it a minute and it will heal. It's part of being a man that turns into a wolf. I have very fast healing."

She was sniffing. "I can't smell the blood. Or I can, but it's not nauseating."

"You can smell blood?" I asked. I could smell blood, but I couldn't before I turned into a wolf.

"Yeah, and it usually makes me sick but yours doesn't." She put her face closer to the sink to test that out.

"That's because… well, I think it's because you're my mate. Nothing about me should be nauseating to you."

"Is that why you always smell so good to me?"

"I think so, and why you always smell so good to me."

"Even after work? Even if I'm sweaty?"

"Always," I repeated.

"What can you tell me about the wolf mates?" She asked, looking away from the cut and into my eyes.

"I really want Sam to do that. I'm afraid I'll mess it up. Sam and his mate, Emily, they're expecting us at 1:00 on Sunday. Sam's going to invite Kim and Jared."

"Are Kim and Jared mates, too?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you known that I was your mate?"

I gulped. "It took me a while to understand, but since last Friday, when Sam carried you out of the woods."

"How did you know?"

I turned off the water. My finger was not bleeding anymore. I held her face between my hands. "I'm so scared I'm going to explain it all wrong and you won't ever talk to me again. So scared. That's why I asked Sam for help. And I'm already so nervous about meeting your dad and fooling around on the couch, I'm scared he's going to smell sex on us. Can we please save this conversation for Sunday? Please?"

She nodded. "You have nothing to worry about with my dad. He's going to love you."

"Oh speaking of dads, I did bring some books from my dad. I don't know what you've read. When I'm done chopping potatoes I'll bring them in."

It took me two more minutes to finish the potatoes. I filled the pot with water and put it on the stove. Then I ran to the car and brought in the stack of books.

"Pull out any that you've read before and I'll make my recommendation from the remainder."

Out of the seven I chose, she had only read two.

"Swiss Family Robinson. That's an easy choice."

"Is it one of your favorites?"

"One of my all time favorites, yes. I've read it so many times. How about you? What are your favorites?" I asked. I wondered if they were the romance books she and Kim read. But I was hoping for a surprise.

"It goes back and forth between Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice."

That was a surprise. "Those are very different stories."

"I know. I read them based on my mood. When I'm happy, I enjoy Wuthering Heights. When I'm sad, I need Pride and Prejudice to cheer me up, although any Austen book has pretty much the same effect."

"When you're happy, you read Wuthering Heights?" I asked.

"Of course! I can't read it when I'm sad. It would be far too depressing."

"Huh. And you want a love like Catherine and Heathcliff, where they both marry other folks and live miserably until one dies of heartbreak?" I asked.

"No! Of course not. But I want a love with that kind of passion. They made foolish choices. I believe that such love can exist without such foolish choices."

"I always felt that if they ended up together properly, they would have gotten sick of each other. They were both insufferable. And it was the separation, the want of each other, that kept the passion alive."

"Maybe you're just not a romantic," she said flippantly, then gave me a coy smile.

"But Mr Darcy and Elizabeth," I continued, ignoring her comment. "Their love was strong. It started as an understandable infatuation, then a slight, but as they got to know each other, their love grew stronger still. I could easily imagine them happy fifty years later. Can you say the same for Catherine and Heathcliff?"

"It is hard to imagine," she admitted.

"It is. I don't think that means I'm not a romantic."

She started toward me and kissed me. "I agree. I think you are a romantic with your granola bars." She had her hand on my chest, kissing me again. Her hand was spotted with brownie batter. It was on my white shirt now.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" she said, as she pulled away.

"Oh shit," I said, when I first saw it. Then I recovered, not wanting to upset her. "It's fine, it's fine. Just, where is the laundry stuff? I can clean this out. Worst case scenario, I'll need to use a blow dryer on it."

She showed me to the laundry room and I cleaned out the chocolate pretty quick. I took off my undershirt so my body heat would dry the shirt faster. I should have cooked in the undershirt but I liked how she kept looking at me in the button up shirt.

I went downstairs with my undershirt in my back pocket. I washed my hands then asked Isabella what I should be doing.

"Can you turn the dough into rolls?" She handed me the bowl of dough.

"Do you just want dinner rolls? Or crescents? It's too late to make flaky biscuits."

"Next time you can make flaky biscuits. Just dinner rolls tonight." She kissed my lips but did not touch me with her hands.

I punched down the dough and flattened it. She was heating up the corn and steaming the broccoli, but mostly watching me. I cut up the dough, then pinched and rolled each piece into a dinner roll, placing them on the pan Isabella put out for me.

"Are the brownies in the oven? They smell great."

"I still have to make the cheese sauce and the peanut butter drizzle."

"How are we doing for time?"

"We've got half an hour."

"I can make the roux for the cheese sauce," I offered. "I don't know how you make your peanut butter drizzle, though."

"I can show you."

"I would love that. You said the brownies need to cool, though, should we make the drizzle after?"

"No, the drizzle needs to cool a little too or else it just melts into the brownie."

"Ok." I put the rolls in the oven then checked on the pot roast. It looked perfect. Then I started gathering ingredients to make the cheese sauce. She was talking me through her peanut butter drizzle while I was mixing up that cheese sauce. I dumped in the steamed broccoli and removed it from the heat. I pulled out the dinner rolls and the brownie bites. Both looked perfect. We were doing great!

Isabella put the pot roast on a serving platter. I found more serving dishes for corn and broccoli.

"We forgot to mash the potatoes!" I cried out.

"Ok, let's not panic," she said calmly, maybe mocking me a little. "Can you strain them? I'll get butter and milk and salt and pepper."

I carefully strained the potatoes. They were very soft now. She handed me the masher and started dumping in butter and stuff. I mashed my heart out.

"I need to put my shirt on." I said, panicking just a little again.

"And I need to get dressed."

I went to the bathroom and quickly put on my undershirt. My shirt had dried, thankfully. I came out of the bathroom just as Charlie Swan was hanging up his gun holster.

He turned and saw me in his kitchen. "You must be Paul."

I held out my hand for him to shake. "Yes, sir."

"I saw you last Friday." He shook my hand. His handshake was firm. "That wasn't a set up for you to date my daughter."

"No, sir. I didn't think it was."

He stood in front of the sink, washing his hands. "So what made you decide to pursue her now of all times?"

"Sometimes you meet the right person at an awkward time."

"They say that the right person at the wrong time is the wrong person."

"I've heard that, too. I don't think that's the case here. That's why I said awkward time, not wrong time."

As he dried his hands, he asked, "You don't think this is just a rebound for her?"

"I sincerely hope not." I felt like I was sweating bullets and it was kind of embarrassing.

"You nervous, son?" Charlie asked me, clearly amused.

"A little bit, yeah." I wiped my forehead.

"That's good. It means you actually care what I think of you."

"Of course I do," I said earnestly. "Why wouldn't I?"

Charlie clapped me on the shoulder. "Atta boy. The only thing you have to be nervous about is her. The way I see it, it's more likely that she'll break your heart than you'll break hers." That was not what I wanted to hear. "Where is Bells by the way?"

"She said she needed to change." I got a serving dish for the potatoes and started scooping them in.

Charlie started setting the table. "How old are you, Paul?"

"Eighteen."

"So I won't offer you a beer. How about a coke?"

"Perfect."

Just then, Isabella entered the kitchen. She was wearing a black sweater and fitted khaki pants. She looked delicious. She was looking right at me. I think we were just staring at each other because Charlie cleared his throat to get our attention.

"Everything is on the table, Isabella," I said. "Your father set the table and got drinks."

"Was he nice to you?" She asked, reaching for my hand.

"Nicer than I expected," I said. I pulled her to the table where Charlie was already helping himself to the pot roast. He had also cut a large chunk for my plate and a smaller chunk for Isabella.

"What do you do for work, Paul?"

"I'm still in high school, but I work for the council with Sam Uley."

"Right, and they brought you boys in to help Bella because?"

"We know the woods, real trails and false trails. We all have experience tracking wildlife."

"Do you hunt?" he asked.

"Not often. I used to go with my dad but his schedule has changed so I haven't gone out in a while."

"Fish?"

"Same story."

"You know Harry Clearwater?" he asked.

"Of course," I was nodding. "He's on the council."

"Well he and I go fishing most weekends. Would you want to spend a morning on the water with us?"

"Really? Yeah, I'd really like that." That sounded amazing, a great way to get to know my future father-in-law.

Isabella was grinning at me.

"How about this Sunday?"

"Oh, Isabella and I have plans with some friends on the rez on Sunday."

"Isabella is working tomorrow." He eyed his daughter. "You could help us pack up in the morning and try your hand at afternoon fishing. If you can catch something in the afternoon, you'll definitely prove your worth."

I looked at Isabella. She nodded, saying, "They might just be using you to carry equipment but you'll have a good time with them. You already know Harry. He's a riot."

"I'll have to take my own vehicle. I'm taking Isabella out to dinner after work."

Charlie's eyes darkened. "Dinner? While I'm out of town?"

"I didn't know you'd be out of town, sir."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Ok, you're both adults. But I expect you'll respect my house, Paul. I don't want any funny business happening while I'm gone."

"Of course not, sir. What time do you want me here to help pack up?"

"Can you be here at 8:00 am?"

"I can try. If I can't, it'll be around 9:00. What time do you leave?"

"10:00 am. Why would you not be able to be here at 8:00? Do you sleep in on Saturdays?"

"I usually do work for the council at 8:00," I said, "but I'm going to try to switch. If I can't switch, I'll see if I can start early."

Charlie nodded. "Ok, I don't want you messing up your job, but we can always use a hand. Hey Bells, what did you do differently with the cheese sauce?"

"Paul made it. It's really good, huh?"

He turned to me. "Paul, could you make this for a mac and cheese? It tastes just like my mom's."

I smiled really big. "Of course, any time."

"Maybe you could come for dinner on Sunday, have that waiting for me when I come back."

"Isabella?" I wanted to know what she thought of that plan.

"I have to be back for dinner anyway," she said, meeting my gaze. "I'd much rather have you come with me than not."

"Ok," I agreed, "mac and cheese on Sunday it is!"

"Alright." Charlie was pleased. "I haven't had good mac and cheese in almost twenty years."

"Hey!" Bella scolded, "I made good mac and cheese last week."

"Better than boxed, that's what I always say to you, Bells, and I mean it every time."

"He's trying to drive a wedge between us, Isabella," I whispered, "I'm sure your mac and cheese is awesome."

"Better than boxed," Charlie repeated.

"Better than your dad's, too, I assume." I hoped I wasn't out of line but I needed to stand up for her.

Charlie coughed, then laughed. "That's right. Mine is boxed."

Isabella smiled at me, "thank you." She leaned over and kissed my temple.

I didn't really like her dad teasing her about her cooking after she made the dinner rolls and brownies from scratch. And the roast was fucking perfect.I decided to tell her that.

"The roast is so good, perfectly seasoned and moist. You did great," I said to her.

"And the rolls are great!" Charlie said. "Did Bells tell you she makes her own dough? All sorts, too."

"Paul made the rolls."

"I just formed them," I said, not wanting to take the credit. "She made the dough before I got here."

"I admit, you two make a good team then," Charlie said, grabbing another dinner roll.

I nodded. Bella rubbed my thigh. Fuck. That was hot. I glanced at her and she was looking at me playfully. She was so comfortable touching me and I loved it.

"I've got to do the brownie drizzle." Bella squeezed my thigh, then stood up at the oven.

"She made the brownies from scratch, too," I said, really proud that Isabella was mine. I piled more potatoes onto my plate.

"More roast, son?"

"Please." Charlie cut me another chunk. I took another spoonful of broccoli and corn too. The broccoli really was delicious with my cheese sauce.

"We'll take whatever we have for leftovers for lunch tomorrow, as long as there are some," Charlie announced.

"I won't eat any more than this," I promised.

"Eat as much as you want, Paul," my Isabella says. "You helped make it. You should get to enjoy it more than the men who did nothing."

"I paid for it," Charlie said.

"I guess. Dad, can you help clear the table, make room for brownies."

Now I felt really embarrassed that I was still eating. But my plate was almost empty. Then I helped clear the table too. Isabella set out her brownie bites and they smelled so good. They tasted even better.

Charlie sat down in the living room to watch TV while Isabella and I started to clean up. I filled the sink with soapy dish water while she started packing up leftovers. I had about half the dishes cleaned by the time she joined me to dry and put away.

"What was dinner like with Edward?" I asked, feeling like it would be a fun topic.

"Well, he was useless as a kitchen helper, and not just the potatoes. I asked him to grab me the corn starch once. He had no idea about where that would be or what it would look like. So he started at the leftmost cupboard and read the labels of everything in there until he finally found it."

"Wow, it's like he has no intuition."

"Exactly! And he didn't eat. Instead he pushed his food around his plate and put stuff in his pockets. My dad was not impressed."

"I'm still not sure what your dad thinks of me."

She turned to me, slack jawed. "He never invited Edward fishing."

"Yeah, but isn't that a strategy? He's pretending to really like me so that you won't like me anymore?"

She was laughing softly beside me. "If he thought that would work, he would have used it on Edward."

"Good point."

"But I am a little worried that he's using you for labor, that you'll be in charge of setting up camp for them."

"It's just a little light hazing," I said. I didn't mind if they did that.

"Maybe. I hope so. But I'm pretty sure he really does like you. He definitely likes your cheese sauce."

"Yeah, that's what I mean about the strategy. I thought he went too far, talking about better than boxed."

She looked at me pointedly. "Paul, that was the best cheese sauce I've had in my life. I'm also looking forward to your mac and cheese on Sunday."

"Awe, well, I better not disappoint, then." I leaned down to kiss her, holding her face in my soapy hand. Our mouths were connected. We were exploring and enjoying one another, taking our time. I guess I lingered too long because next thing I knew, Charlie was clearing his throat.

"Hi Dad," she said, meekly.

"Making good progress?"

"Yes, already on the pots and pans," I answered.

"Good. Carry on… with the dishes." He grabbed a beer from the fridge and went back into the living room.

"It feels like we're always being interrupted by someone clearing their throat," I said.

"I know! I feel like I should start carrying around cough drops for these guys."

I laughed harder than I should have. "Imagine Sam's response to you handing him a cough drop and then us just continuing to make out."

"Or my dad's response," she was laughing really hard.

"That would be kind of terrifying," I said honestly, not laughing anymore. That made her laugh even harder.

After we did all the dishes and cleaned the whole kitchen, I said good night to Charlie. Isabella walked me to my car.

"This was a lot of fun," she said. "You really impressed me and I didn't expect that."

"You impressed me too, but I had a hunch you'd be a great cook. You did not disappoint."

Our mouths met, hungry for each other. She tasted like peanut butter. My hand wandered down her back, squeezing that luscious ass. She gasped in my mouth, then brought the kiss deeper, running her fingers through my hair.

She pulled back, gasping for air. "So I'll see you in the morning. I don't work until 10:00, so if you come at 8:00, I'll get to watch you load up the vehicles."

"Fun."

"Do you have your own fishing pole?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll have to dig it out, and find some line. Will they share their bait?"

"Maybe. I guess you'll find out tomorrow."

"I guess. I should go and start digging that out. Goodnight, my sweet Isabella."

"Goodnight, my sweet Paul." She gave me one more kiss on the lips and skipped to the house.

I drove to Jared's house first to see if he could switch shifts with me. He wasn't home and I wasn't going to go bugging Kim's family. I went to see Sam next. I asked if I could do my patrol at 5:00 am. He agreed and even gave me an alpha order to make sure I'd wake up at 5:00 am.

When I got home, there was a giant box on my doorstep. It was a mattress! Thankfully it was covered in plastic because it had been raining. I dragged my old mattress outside and set up the new mattress with fresh sheets. Then I went digging for my dad's fishing pole. It was surprisingly easy to find and in good shape. The spirits truly were looking out for me.

I ran to Forks, got out a granola bar for my girl, walked around the house and went to sleep in the clearing.