Page 3 of When Hairy Met Stella

“Well, Sunshine Stella needs to get this office cleaned up before she leaves tonight. And thanks for the invitation earlier, but I’m gonna pass on pizza tonight. Plus, you probably would enjoy a little alone time with your beau. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna argue with that. But are you sure? This is kind of a bummer of a way to spend a Saturday night. Unless…” Her brows waggled like they were in a dance competition.

“No, no.” She waved a hand, cutting her cousin off. Lucy had mentioned a couple times that she found someoneperfectfor her and that they should go out on a date, but Stella always changed the subject. She just wasn’t ready. She’d only been single for a couple months. No, wait. She looked down at her desk calendar. How had a couple months turned into almost ayear? Maybe it was time to get back out there—or not.

“I have dinner plans already.” The lie tasted sour in her mouth, but she didn’t need her cousin playing matchmaker. Besides, she did have plans for dinner—the frozen variety, but still. Lucy didn’t need to know the details. “I’m perfectly content cleaning up this mess.”

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get buried under all this clutter,” Lucy said with a hint of sarcasm to her voice.

She chuckled as her cousin left her office, because the more she looked around, the more she realized maybe she was imagining the mess in her office because it was easier to deal with than reality. She was a professional at roleplaying, or she would have been if she hadn’t screwed everything up. But those skills she’d learned had transferred quite seamlessly into herreal life these past couple weeks. “Fake Happy” wasn’t just an awesome Paramore song.

With that thought, she paired her phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the file cabinet and let the upbeat song with its melancholy lyrics fill the office, lifting her mood and giving her an excuse to sing at the top of her lungs, uncontrolled and out of tune, her natural state.

Voice lessons had refined her braying voice, but sometimes it was fun to cut loose and let the notes flow—even if they were flying all over the place. But what did it matter? The salon was empty, and doing chores while you sang off-key and danced off-beat was scientifically proven to make chores fifty percent more enjoyable. Probably. So, she threw her hands in the air like the inflatable tube dude at the car dealership on Main Street and embraced the freedom that came with moving her body without abandon. She didn’t even care that her shrill voice rattled the rafters and likely worried people within a five-mile radius that there was a clowder of dying cats at the Hairy Stylez salon.

But while she butchered a beloved song from her favorite band, she kind of got the feeling she was being watched.You’ve been watching too many Halloween movies this week.Besides, Lucy said she was the last person left at the salon, and Stella had heard her go out the back door, which meant that if there really was someone else in the building, it was an intruder.

This was just paranoia, right? Spending the evening hanging spooky decorations and messing around with strobe lights and spiderwebs had her mind jumping hurdles to conclusions that didn’t add up. Besides, the security alarm would have alerted her to someone else in the building.

But if that was true, why was there a dark form filling the doorway?

“Son of a biscuit!” she screamed. And the crack of knuckles on bone was the last thing she heard before a large man hit the floor.

Chapter

Two

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Nate watched Stella flailing her arms as she ran around the tiny office. She looked like a frantic bird about to take flight, and as fast as she was flapping her arms, he half expected her feet to lift off the ground. Like the Taylor Swift song that now played on her Bluetooth speaker said, she really needed to calm down. This really wasn’t a big deal.

“Stell—”

She shoved a wad of paper towels into his face, and the taste of blood and paper mixed in his mouth. She grabbed his forearm and walked him to her desk chair. It groaned under his weight as his knees rose to shoulder height. Except, his knees didn’t rise as much as his butt sank because this thing had the lumbar support of a beanbag chair.

She bolted out of the office and down the hall before he got the chance to tell her he was fine—or he would be, at least, once he got away from her. There weren’t many perks of being a werewolf, but being able to heal himself was a pretty good one. Not that it did him a bit of good right now. Not when he didn’t know how long she’d be gone.

While his brother had the power to heal others, Nate could only heal himself. That was why he was always trying topreventdisasters from happening. But there was no way he would have anticipated the wallop he’d just gotten at the literal hands of his boss.

So, he sat there, nose throbbing, wondering how long it took for a black eye to form. If the pain pulsing in his face was any indication, not much longer.

“Okey dokey,” Stella said as she returned, the high-pitched words contradicting her wide eyes and flushed skin. “Lower those tissues so I can fix you.”

“I’m really okay, Stella.” He looked down at the wad of paper towels in his hands, wondering if she’d handed him a wad of tissue paper for the way the blood soaked through the material and onto his hands.

She shook her head. “No, look at all the blood. I need you to tip your head up.”

He did as he was asked, though he was pretty sure leaning forward was the way to go. But again, he’d never let an injury last this long, so what did he really know? He played along because he figured the faster he complied, the sooner this would all be over. And he wanted it to be over, he thought, as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. She sure packed a punch with her…well, punch.

“This will take care of it.”

He never really got a good look at whatthiswas. But when she shovedthisup his nose, and he felt the tickle of two strings on his upper lip, it didn’t take him too long to solve the mystery.

“Did you just—is there a tampon up my nose?”

“Two,” she said with a nod as she rose from her squatted position, seemingly satisfied with what she’d done.

“But…why?”

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