Page 5 of My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

“You have amnesia?” He couldn’t help sounding incredulous.

“Seems so.” She shrugged.

“You really should go to a hospital if you got smacked in the head.”

“No doctors,” she scowled. “I’m more hungry than hurt.”

Not the reply he expected. “Do you need me to buy you some food?”

“Depends, know any places doing steak this time of day?” A fleeting smile curved her perfect lips.

“Not around here.”

“Pity. A good steak, barely singed, always fixes everything.”

A woman after his own heart. “Well, guess I should get going, that is unless you’ve changed your mind about me calling a cab.”

“Can’t I just go home with you? I just need a place to crash for a day or two.”

And here came the grift. Derek pursed his lips. “Listen, lady, I don’t do scams, and before you deny it, I know how this works. I take you to my place. Next thing I know, some gorilla shows up claiming to be your boyfriend. He beats the crap out of me, and you rob me blind.”

Her lips parted. “Does that actually happen?”

“Not to me, but I read about it on Reddit.”

“So that’s a no on a place to crash for a few days?”

“Guess you’ll have to amnesia-scam someone else.”

She sighed. “Bloody hell. As you might have guessed, I don’t have amnesia, but I can’t go home. It’s not safe.”

“Then why not say that in the first place?” Derek crossed his arms and gave her a stern look.

“Because I’m not looking for a hero. Just somewhere to hang while I figure shit out.”

“There are shelters you know.”

“The second place they’ll look,” she muttered.

“What’s the first?”

“My apartment.”

Her answers had him frowning. “Who’s looking for you?”

“Some bad folks. I need to lie low for a while until I know it’s safe, and before you ask, I don’t have money for a motel. I can’t contact my family or friends, not if I want to keep them safe. What a fucking clusterfuck.”

Look at her using Grams’ favorite word. While Derek got the impression the naked lady wasn’t telling the whole truth, he didn’t get a danger vibe from her. On the contrary, he found himself intrigued, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t take care of himself. If a goon showed up, he’d show him a lesson about what happened to scum who preyed on good Samaritans.

“You know what, you can come stay for a few days, but I warn you—I’ve got only one bed, and it’s mine.” Because his chivalry only went so far. “You’re welcome to the couch, though.”

“Couch is fine. I’ve slept on worse.”

“Follow me, then.”

As they began to walk, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Athena.”

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