Page 33 of Moonlighting with the Werewolf

Jeez, overdramatic much?

The screech sounded again, louder this time, and I flung open the door. A raccoon sat in the middle of the contents that’d spilled from my overturned trash can, scraping the leftover lasagna out of the disposable foil pan.

Sir Pounce growled, and the raccoon just stared at us like he didn’t mind our presence, but could we please not interrupt his dinner?

Since I didn’t want my furball to get rabies, I picked him up, tightening my grip on him when he tried to lunge at the masked bandit.

“I almost called Conall over a raccoon. Could you imagine how much he’d mock me for that?”

Still, as I backed into the cabin, flickers of light and dark danced through the swaying branches of trees that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. So many hiding places for a wannabe predator. The forest had eyes, and while I was sure it was my city girl side insisting on shutting out nature instead of basking in it, new blinds just got bumped up on my to-do list.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Why hadthis Monday been a billion years long already?

Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful for the whopping three appointments with new clients, but as soon as the clock struck four, I locked up the clinic and barely resisted sprinting to my car.

My Mini Cooper bounced along the dirt road to the Bridgewater Bluff Community—aka, the werewolf compound, but only to people in the know. I rather liked being in the know.

When Conall had driven me there, we’d been in a rush and I’d been hyper aware of every one of his movements. From how the line in his forearms stood out as he shifted to the sunshine pouring through the window and highlighting his strong jawline to the way the long fingers that’d stroked me into oblivion wrapped around the steering wheel.

While I’d noted the plethora of trees before, the deeper into the forest I went, the more it felt like nothing else existed. Just dirt, pines, and a sliver of ultra-blue sky. Left me experiencing a pinch of claustrophobia, to be honest, so I cranked up the radio and psyched myself up to see Conall.

My lips and body tingled in anticipation, the dirty dream I’d had last night coming along for the ride, and then I was shifting in my seat and cracking a window.

Right as I began to worry I’d forgotten a turn, the trees thinned and I spotted the compound. The first time Conall used that word, I’d pictured cement fences with twisted barbed wire along the top and square homes that lacked personality. In realty, the place looked like a woodsy suburbia that’d been dropped in the middle of nowhere. The stone and wrought iron fence showcased various cabins ranging from cottage style, modern, and rustic.

I slowed next to the call box, identified myself, and waited for the gate to swing open. I drove through the entryway and headed toward the only building I’d been inside. A mixture of wood and stone, the community center housed the school, the medical room, and the space where they had meetings.

Big meetings to discuss werewolf matters, and oh, to be a fly on the wall. Conall’s family was another subject I’d speculated about. Had I wanted to pry deeper into what happened to them? I was only human, so of course.

But I hadn’t delved into my personal losses yet, either, and he’d tell me when he was ready. Fingers crossed, anyway.

After parking near the entrance, I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should charge on in or if someone would greet me.It’s not like it’s a military facility, and you’resupposedto be here. Go do your job so you can get to the part with the embracing and kissing.

Sasquatch, the mountain of a man who escorted me home the other night, opened the front door to the community center as I approached. Then he started down the hallway toward the medical office, and I was obviously expected to follow.

I picked up my pace, taking about three steps for every one of his. “How’s it going?” He’d hardly said a thing during the rideto get my car the other night, but then again, neither had I, so I decided to take the lead today.

“Fine.” Such a unique, low timbre that I’d bet he could make a fortune as a voice actor. Although that’d require speaking multiple words at once, so I doubted he’d do it.

“What about Justin? Any change?”

“Nope,” Sasquatch said.

“Any new leads on the bad guys?”

“I’m not allowed to discuss werewolf matters with outsiders.”

Ouch. So glad his longest sentence involved insulting me. But I was nothing if not persistent. “Well then, how’s your day, Mr. Sasquatch? Or is it just Sasquatch? Do anything fun?”

His brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t figure me out.Right back at you, big guy.

“Is making polite conversation a faux pas in werewolf land or something? Does no one here chat for the sake of chatting?”

“I don’t,” he said

“Noted.” Same way I noted he didn’t tell me whether to add the Mr. in front of his name. Evidently, it was dealer’s choice, and I entertained the idea of adding another prefix to see if I could garner a reaction.

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