How to Date a Werewolf (24 page)

“Hey. Is that any way to treat someone in his own home? You came here and I expect to be treated with respect. You’re not being very neighborly.” He moved closer to where I stood.

As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. I was in his house. Although that didn’t change the fact he was a sleazebucket.

“Sorry, you’re right. But I’ll be out of your hair in just a second,” I said through gritted teeth. Bad choice of words on my part as I reevaluated his baldness.

“You can stay in my hair as long as you’d like, baby. And any other place you’d like to stay, for that matter.” He leered at me with his dark-as-coal eyes and licked his dry, cracked lips.

I felt my gag reflexes kicking in. Good thing his carpet already looked nasty, because I might hurl any second, adding to the stains on the rug.

He inched closer, and in one swift shove of his arms, pushed me against the door. Fan-freakin’-tastic. His fat belly protruded, unintentionally reaching out and touching me. Thankfully, I hadn’t eaten my lunch yet. My stomach churned with the slightest touch from him, but I was able to control my queasiness. As he pinned me against the wall, I realized he was stronger than I expected. But I didn’t worry. I could take him down if I had to--one kick to his nether regions would do it. When backed into a corner, I’d come out fighting. His breath drifted across my face, worse than anticipated. His smell percolated in the air--a mixture of oil and skunk.

“I suggest you back away from me right now unless you want to lose your balls.” My tone remained calm and unruffled.

His fat cheeks hovered millimeters away from my face. I enjoyed being near him like I’d take pleasure in a colonoscopy. He clenched his fists at his sides.

“And you can unclench those paws of yours too.” With both hands, one clutching my food bag, I shoved using the full force of my body. His eyes widened. I guess he was surprised I had that kind of strength. He landed on the wall across from me.

When he regained his footing, he held up his hands in surrender. “No need to fight, babe. I’m a peaceful kind of guy.”

Moving to the other window, I ignored his confused stare. I wasn’t sure which was worse: Phil or the unknowns outside. Pulling the dingy curtain back just an inch, I looked for the men. The alley remained empty. I prayed they were gone, because I needed to get away from skunk breath. Giving one last look, I let the fabric slip from my hand and made my way back to the door.

“Thanks for the hospitality,” I snapped.

“Anytime, babe. You’re always welcome in my home.”

Gross. He still didn’t get it. The fact that I shoved him clear across the room did nothing to stop his advances.

I looked both ways before stepping from his doorway back into the alley. I stepped into silence. The coast appeared to be clear. My shoes echoed through the alley, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. A strange vibe circled me. Were they hiding? Watching me? I ran the rest of the short distance, looking over my shoulder every few seconds and then slipped into my front door, slamming it shut so hard the wood rattled. I collapsed against the wall, letting out a breath in relief.

My breathing came out in short pants. I eased the door open just a smidgen to search for any signs of the suits. A few folks strolled by unaware of the lunatics in their midst. I scanned the area and then, as if out of nowhere, they appeared, marching past my building. I didn’t have time to shut the door before they noticed me. Much to my relief, they made no offer to come toward me. Instead, they lowered their sunglasses in unison and glowered at me. Their gleaming eyes glinted in the sun like shiny pennies. Their faces were as cold as stone. Blondie was definitely the one from the voodoo shop. The pair continued on their way, fading into the crowd, not looking back. Without a doubt, this was one of the weirdest experiences I had ever encountered. The people on the street never lifted their heads to notice them. How could they be unaware of the strangeness? My hands trembled as I slammed the door.

The foyer was empty. I leaned against the wall and gazed over toward Jack’s office door. It remained closed. Sadness washed over me and replaced the panic. Maybe a couple of days away would give Jack time to sort through his thoughts. He’d realize I was the best thing that ever happened to him and forget all about those pesky threats. All right, perhaps that was a stretch, but it was my fantasy and I was sticking to it. At least he’d wanted to protect me, even if he used Martin to do it. And apparently I needed protection.

With heavy feet, I trudged back to my space. Before I did anything else, I peered out the window. No one lingered outside. A lot of protection Martin had offered, he was supposed to watch out for me. Although I
had
warned him off. I didn’t need him, anyway. In spite of my nerves, I needed to eat--my energy was drained. My hand trembled still as I unpacked the contents of my bag and spread them out across the desk. I unfolded a napkin and placed it on my lap. How I hadn’t lost my bag of food on my little jaunt through town, I had no idea. A miracle, I guess. I sat at my desk and munched on my sandwich. It felt good to have peace and quiet. My breathing became normal once again.

As I took a sip of my drink, a shrill yell bellowing from outside jolted me. I nearly spit out my soda. The voice sounded familiar and I was almost afraid to look for fear of coming smack-dab, face-to-face with her. The voice within my earshot was Lily’s. I’d recognize that sharp tongue anywhere. I set my drink down and moved into the foyer. The ruckus echoed from the front of the building. As I inched open the door, I saw Lily in all of her full-rage glory. She stood in front of Martin’s car, her hands waved like mad, and she barked at him to get the hell out of there.

Hell’s bells.
Please don’t let her come after me next
, I prayed. One confrontation for the day was all I needed. I’d already ruined too many of my clothes because of her. Enough was enough. Lily beat on the window of Martin’s shiny black Porsche. He did have a nice car, although that sure didn’t count for much as far as I was concerned. Too bad he didn’t have a personality to match his fancy ride. His face gaped in horror as Lily lashed out blow after blow to his pristine auto. Unless she had a weapon, he’d be all right. How much damage could her fists do? She couldn’t pack a very powerful punch.

Maybe
I spoke too soon, because at that moment, Lily appeared with a crowbar she had hoisted from the trunk of her car. Why the police hadn’t been called yet, I didn’t know. I couldn’t pry my gaze away from the scene long enough to call, and I guess no one else could, either. All I needed was popcorn and soda. The show had started, I could kick back and watch. As she turned toward him, her eyes seemingly on fire, Martin twisted the ignition on his car. With a huge screech, he peeled away from the curb, leaving Lily in his dust.

As she made a swing for his passing car and missed, I dashed back behind the door so she wouldn’t see me. She’d be after me with that metal weapon if she spotted me witnessing her hissy fit. I couldn’t fight a weapon. The approaching full moon made everyone rowdy. Me, Lily, Martin--all supernaturals. After Martin screeched off, smoke coming from the wheels, Lily pivoted on her heel and calmly marched back to her car as if nothing had even happened. She placed the tool back and slammed the trunk shut, dusting her hands off on her jeans. She glared at the few people on the street who watched her. It surprised me she didn’t bite their heads off. I’d give her credit for one thing--she’d gotten rid of Martin for me. Now I wouldn’t have to go for a drink.

As I watched from the little crack in the doorjamb, creepy neighbor, Phil, approached Lily. The guy had no idea what he was getting himself into by coming within an arm’s length of her. No doubt she would let him have it--better him than me. An intense conversation ensued, as if he’d asked her a question. She responded, odd thing about it, without her customary venom. Shocking. I’d kind of wished she had let him have it. If anyone deserved a tongue-lashing, that guy did. They stood for a while chatting. After a couple of minutes, Lily handed him a piece of paper, jumped in her car and drove off. She never even looked my way, which was odd, to say the least. Color me grateful, but surprised.

Phil puffed out his chest more than usual as he strutted back to his cave, er, house. Did he even have a job? It seemed as if he was always home, and as far as I could tell, he wasn’t running a business out of the place, either. He wore a ratty wife-beater and dirty jeans. To say he was in need of a bath would have been a complete understatement. Possibly he needed a flea dip too. As I spied on him, he pulled out his pocketknife and walked away. Apparently the show was over, so I turned to head back to my office. With the action over, I definitely didn’t want to watch him pick his teeth with his trusty knife. So uncouth.

My afternoon passed quickly, a few clients filled my schedule. Where were all my customers? No Lily, no werewolves, no men breaking up my office, no feds. John popped in to repair my shades, and gush about Anna. He said they were all set for date night--dinner and a movie. At least one happy couple, I hoped. I prayed John liked beer with lime already added, or whatever might be the equivalent pet peeve for Anna. I looked forward to a night of relaxing, kicking back and staying home. A glass of wine, good food and not another steamy dream of Jack. I couldn’t handle another one.

Jennifer was in the kitchen when I walked in the apartment. I sniffed, inhaling the savory scent as it lingered in the air.
Do I smell steak?

“What’s this all about? You never make dinner. Unless of course you count Lean Cuisine.”

“I thought I’d try my hand at cooking. Maybe then Todd will pop the question. The other day he mentioned that I never cook, so maybe he thinks I’ll be a bad wife. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

I snorted. “Don’t you think that’s a little old-fashioned?”

She shrugged her shoulders and grabbed a potholder. “Not really.”

“A man would be the last reason I’d learn to cook.” There was more to her newfound culinary effort than what she claimed, and I had a feeling I’d find out the reason soon enough.

“What are you cooking? It smells delish.” I moved in closer and hovered over the stove, flaring my nostrils to catch a good whiff.

“What else would I make for my bestest friend but your favorite: steak with olive-oregano relish.”

“Technically, all steak was my favorite. But, oh, that sauce.” My mouth watered.

She was up to something. Why else would she take the time to make my favorite food? This behavior was so unlike her. I would bet my last stash of beef jerky whatever her reason couldn’t be good.

“What are you up to? I know you want something. What have you done? Go on, ’fess up. Did you repaint my bedroom again?”

“What do you mean? Can’t I make my best friend dinner? Do I have to have an ulterior motive?” She continued stirring the sauce, never glancing my way.

“I’d say yes, you have to want something. It’s no problem to make me dinner to be nice, if that’s what it really is.”

She flashed me an innocent stare. “I just thought we could talk, that’s all. I want to help you make things work with Jack. He’s too good to let slip away, at least without trying. If you date him and don’t like him, that’s one thing…but to never get that far is a sin.”

“And there we have it. So I need help now?” I clucked my tongue.

“Maybe a little. Everyone needs help at some point in their lives.” She waved the plate topped with savory steak under my nose.

My juices flowed. The only reason I listened to anything she had to say was because of the food. I couldn’t resist the lure, and she knew it.

“All right, Miss Helper, so help me. Tell me what to do.” I grabbed the plates and set them on the table, then retrieved forks and knives from the drawer.

She didn’t say a word as she brought our drinks over and plopped one down in front of me. I pulled out the chair and sat down. Grabbing my fork, I immediately dug right in. If she wasn’t going to talk, that was her problem. As for me, I needed food in my belly, now.

“Wow, you really must have been hungry.” She gaped at me stuffing my mouth.

“Yeah, I am. I had a long day. This is delicious, by the way.” I pointed to my plate.

“Do you need a drop cloth or something? Perhaps a bib?” She pulled out her chair and sat next to me. She leaned away from me as if I would pounce if she said the wrong thing. I had no idea why she was acting so skittish.

“So now you’re a comedian. Funny.” I shoved another forkful in my mouth. “Hey, don’t let Todd tell you that you can’t cook,” I mumbled with a full mouth.

“I won’t,” she said, still in awe of my eating capabilities.

“You should be cooking this stuff for him and not me.”

“I’ll cook for him later. Besides I thought you said that’s old-fashioned.”

I chewed instead of answering. Jennifer opened her mouth again as if she to say something else, but then shut it just as fast without uttering a phrase.

“Spit it out. Get it over with. What is it you wanna say?” I devoured more of the food while waiting for an answer.

She took in a deep breath, let it out and then said, “I talked to your mother and she said she didn’t know anything about a curse. She acted as if she’d never heard tell of this so-called curse.” The words rushed out.

I hadn’t seen that one coming.

Chapter 16

How to Date a Werewolf Rule # 16:

Order your date the biggest steak on the menu.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “You’re a real hoot. What a jokester.” I slapped the side of my leg. I knew what was going on--Jennifer always had liked to kid around. “Seriously, did my mom call here or something? What crazy thing is she talking about now? She should have known to call me at work.”

“Rylie, I’m serious. Listen to me.” She set her fork down and stared me right in the eyes. The sides of her mouth fell as a concerned look spread across her face.

“What do you mean? Are you serious? You actually called my mother and asked about the curse? Without telling me first? Without even asking if it was all right with me?” My posture stiffened. She couldn’t have twisted the metaphorical knife in my back any harder if she’d tried. I was in disbelief.