Page 19 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

Maybe for her, yeah. “Please, there’s no way a guy like that would want a schlub like me!”

After all, what did I have going for me? I had dirt-brown hair and dishwater-brown eyes with a mottled complexion and an apron belly. I was busty, but I didn’t have the big ass that was so popular lately. My arms were so flabby they were basically bat wings. I had a big nose. I lived with my parents. Oh, and I just so happened to be a fucking wolf shifter!

But Amanda simply tilted her head to the side like she didn’t understand why what she was proposing was so astronomical.

“If you don’t think your fashion’s up to snuff, that’s easy enough to change if you want to. We can do it after class. I’m free.”

“Pardon?” I was clearly becoming a broken record, but apparently third time was the charm, because Amanda grinned at me with her perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.

“It’s a date! Girl time. Meet me outside when the class is over.”

If I had even an inch of spine, perhaps I would have told her that rampant consumerism wasn’t going to fix the divide between me and my instructor, but I was still catching up to her unexpected proposal, so I nodded before returning to my work.

She must have meant something else, and I was just confused. There was no way that Miss Perfect Barbie wanted to go clothes shopping with a complete stranger who was probably about a decade older than her.

Or maybe this was what hanging out with humans was like. Clearly, things had changed quite a bit since I’d gone to college.

I think I’m just going to concentrate on my mug…

And concentrate I did, because it was certainly easier than trying to decipher the woman’s antics next to me or why a human male was so distractingly attractive to me. In fact, I was so concentrated that there was nothing but me and my hopefully soon-to-be tankard in existence.

Someone cleared their throat. It was a simple sound, but it clanged against my ears like a foghorn. I yelped, my body jolting even harder than when Amanda had startled me, and the next thing I knew, I had thrown the chisel.

“Fuck!” I hissed.

The instructor, who had given me the scare, caught the chisel and handed it back to me like it was the easiest thing.

Holy shit, who is this guy?!

“Careful there…”

“Olivia,” I supplied.

“Olivia,” he repeated, and wow, my name sounded really nice coming from his lips.

Don’t think about his lips!

“You don’t need to put as much force behind your chisel. Also, you should wear your hair up and wear more form-fitting clothing.”

“Excuse me?” Was I hallucinating?

He seemed to realize how what he said sounded a beat later, and it was kind of cute to watch his entire face flush. “Baggy clothing and loose hair can get caught in machinery, especially the lathe. So next week, when we move on to power tools, what you’re wearing now will be too loose.”

“Oh.” Of course, that was what he’d meant. “Thank you, uh…”

“Keith,” he said quickly, and I swore his expression grew a bit sheepish. “No need to call me Mr. Insrym like they do in the welcome packet. Terribly formal. Sorry for startling you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Keith.” Well, I was definitely in trouble, because his name felt good on my lips.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but a student from the front called him. He hurried off, leaving me sitting there with my cheeks burning and my heart hammering.

“Tighter clothes, huh?” Amanda parroted before breaking into a cackle entirely unbecoming of her baby-pink demeanor.

Uh… what had I just gotten myself into?

6

OLIVIA