Page 44 of Wolf's Chance

Silence was my answer, and I waited patiently. “Forget the two weeks. Bring her and everything she’s painted, sketched, or doodled. Bring them here.”

“Everything?” I walked back into the store. “She has alotof artwork.”

“Then get a bigger truck. I expect to see you soon.”

He hung up.

“Well, that went well.”

“You told me you didn’t have a phone.”

Of course she was awake.Going back into the kitchen, I saw Willow sitting where I’d left her. Her look was once more cautious. “How much did you hear?”

“You were talking about how much art I had.”

“Anything else?” When she shook her head, I opened myself more to my wolf. Letting the shifter magic ride close to the surface, I listened with my wolf senses. Her heart was rapid, but it wasn’t racing. Her breathing was labored, a sign of her exhaustion. She wasn’t lying. “I told you I knew someone who could help. Maybe. That was them.” Willow didn’t say anything, her gaze careful as she waited for me to finish. “Two problems we need to solve.” Her eyes narrowed inanticipation of not liking what I was going to say, which was expected and a little amusing. “One, you have a lot of art, and we need to take it all with us.” When she opened her mouth to protest, I carried on. “Two, we need to go to them, so you need to close the store for a few days.”

“No.” Sliding off the counter, she stood, her legs unsteady, but she backed away from my automatic offer to help. “Absolutely not. I can’t leave here for afew days. Are you insane? I run abusiness.”

“The air quotes weren’t necessary,” I mocked her slightly and was rewarded with a look of fury. “You need a break—don’t argue with me. You’re running yourself into the ground. Maybe,maybe, a break is exactly what you need. Maybe being with me, away from all this, will help.”

“How?” Her expression was so skeptical that I knew I’d have to think faster on my feet.

“I’m basically your muse, right?”

“Wrong.”

The flat stare was unyielding. “Humor me, okay?”Think smart, Caleb, easy does it.“What do we know so far?” I asked her, changing tactics. “About a month or so before I arrived in Whispering Pines, you started drawing me. Right?” She nodded once. “Then you meet me, confront me, really for no fault of my own”—the scowl was back—“and you move from painting just me to landscapes, scenes that you’ve never been to but Ihave.” Willow’s brow was creased as she waited for me to get to the point. I was eager to know where I was going with this myself. “I left, and your subconscious spread out from the…” I struggled for the right word, “contained area to a wider catchment area.”

“Wider catchment area?”

“Not my best word choice. Just roll with it, okay?” Willow’s huff of derision spoke volumes. “I come back, and you’re back to me. Right?” She was going to deny it. “I was in your room; I saw them all. Honestly, it’s a little creepy.”

“I’m not obsessed with you or anything like that,” she snapped, her face flushing.

“Really? Tell that to the two sketchbooks and the stumps of HBs that are in your trash can.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“I’m stating facts. That doesn’t make me arrogant.”

“Okay then, you’re a dick.” She smiled sweetly at me. “Better?”

I shrugged. “Probably more accurate.” She lost her smile. “But I’m also right.”

Shaking her head, she looked away from me. “See? Arrogant.”

“Mypointis, I think if you’re with me, you’ll draw lessand”—I spoke over whatever she was going to say—“you’ll rest better. You told me yourself, you’re drained. You’re dreaming, or the visions that you’re having are eating into the time when you need your body to replenish itself. Instead, you are hurting yourself.”

“So your best idea is for me to spend timewiththe person who may be making me ill to start with?”

“What have you got to lose?”

Willow gestured to the studio. “Mybusiness.”

Ugh, she was a stubborn woman. “Look. You have ME. Don’t stand there and tell me you haven’t had this store closed for days before when you’ve had a bad spell?”

“That’s different.”

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