Page 3 of Wolf's Forbidden Curse

"None taken," I said, stifling a laugh. "I wasn't looking to purchase a house, as you already ascertained. Not here—or anywhere, really. I'm just looking to start over."

"I hear that," he said. "But you should know, everything is expensive out here, not just the houses. You have a job lined up or something?"

"No."

"A friend you can stay with?"

"No."

"So you were just planning on showing up and...?"

"Winging it."

He chuckled and then walked through the open door behind the bar. "Sit tight. I've got something for you to fill out." Al was gone before I could ask any follow-up questions. He returned a minute or so later with a piece of paper and a pen.

"What's this?"

"This is a job application. I've been looking to hire someone to help me out around here for a while now, so this will work out well for both of us. A win-win, if you will. No need to put anything down for the address since you'll be staying in the apartment right above us."

"What?" I gawked at him. "I will be?"

"If you want. You don't have to, obviously, but I figured it would be a hell of a lot better than sleeping on a park bench or whatever you were thinking of doing."

"... Beach."

"Oh no, that's a bad idea," he said gravely. "It's illegal to sleep on the beach around here, and they really crack down on it. You'd be arrested before the sun rose, for sure." He pointed to the ceiling. "The apartment upstairs is tiny, not even a one-bedroom. More like a studio. But you have your own entrance from the stairwell on the side of the building. I own the lot behind this little building, and that's where my two-bedroom is located, but you'll have enough privacy up on the second level."

"I'm—I'm not worried about privacy."

"Then what are you worried about?" he asked. "Because you're looking at me like a deer in the headlights suddenly."

"I just—" My mouth was dry, so I took a big swig from the glass. I couldn't remember the last time someone had been this nice to me. And without any provocation. I hadn't even given him that good of a tip. I put the mug down and glared at him. "I don't understand. What's in this for you?"

"A good bartender, I hope," he said. "And one that's never going to be late for work." He laughed, but I didn't. I was still completely taken aback by this entire interaction. Could this really be happening? Did this man really not have an ulterior motive? "Have you ever worked in food service before?"

"Yes," I said. "And I've tended bar."

"I had a feeling that was the case." He wagged his finger at me. "You've got that look about you."

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"For $18 bucks an hour plus tips, I hope you'll take it as a compliment."

This made me smile. "Can't say no to those numbers."

"Good. Just get that paperwork filled out then so I can get you on the payroll, and you can start tomorrow if you'd like. Thursdays aren't usually too busy, but there will be enough people to serve that you actually have something to do."

"You don't need me to start tonight?"

"No," he said. "I can handle things tonight. Plus, you need a good night's rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

Al was right. I was exhausted. And the prospect of getting to lie down in a warm, safe bed without the threat of being harassed by local police or passersby who wanted to look for treasures in my backpack was too good to resist. I didn't even care if there was somehow a scam involved here or if Al was a closeted creep. I had pepper spray and a mean right hook. If this man tried anything, I could take care of myself.

But something told me he wasn't that kind of guy.

The look in his kind, light green eyes told me he was just genuine and decent.

What a welcomed rarity.

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