Page 72 of Bewicched

“Better idea. You go get the wet clothes and I’ll put them in the wash with mine. In the morning, you can take a shower and have clean clothes to change into.” Laundry and beer were the least I could do. The guy didn’t have a stake in any of this, and yet he’d stuck around to help.

He saluted me with his bottle. “I’ll take you up on that one. Be right back.” He went through the door to the gallery and out the front.

While he was gone, I walked along the back wall of my studio and gallery, spelling the windows and doors to not let anyone or anything in. I realized my mistake a moment later when the wind stopped blowing. I tweaked the spell to allow wind and light, while blocking psycho killers and curious seals.

A moment later, I heard the satisfying thunk of the front door lock and heavy footsteps returning. As the footsteps neared, I worried I was being stupid and readied a spell just in case this wasn’t Declan.

Thankfully, Declan walked in. The unease, however, hadn’t left. “You didn’t see Hubert out there, did you?”

He stopped, brow furrowed. “Hubert? I thought the starfish was Herbert.”

“He is,” I said, taking the pack he’d made by wrapping his wet clothes inside his dry flannel shirt like a hobo’s bindle. “I got worried you weren’t you after going outside, so I was testing you.”

“I wasn’t—oh, yeah, still me. No demon hitchhikers.”

“That you’re aware of,” I corrected, taking his clothes upstairs.

He chuffed a laugh. “Thanks. I was hoping to never sleep again, so this works out well for me.” He dropped back down onto the couch, kicking off his boots.

I threw his wet clothes in with mine and then turned on the washing machine. Stopping by my bed, I considered just crawling in and falling asleep, but decided against it. I’d get an hour or two up here if I was lucky. Downstairs with Declan, I had a better chance of actually falling asleep and staying that way.

Grabbing my favorite blanket, I went back downstairs, surprising Declan, who’d already stretched out on the couch with a silent basketball game on the screen. This didn’t work. The poor guy’s legs were hanging off the end.

“Can I ask a favor?”

Declan sat up.

“Sorry. I want to ask something that benefits me and is uncomfortable for you, which is shitty.” I’d fallen asleep on the couch twice with him and both times, I’d slept without nightmares waking me. I really wanted that again, especially after today.

He waited to hear what I wanted. I liked that he didn’t jump to agree to the favor before he’d heard it.

“I feel stupid asking this, but I told you I’m a terrible sleeper, right?”

He nodded. “You do all your baking in the middle of the night.”

“Right. Well, I don’t know why, but when I touch you, I can’t read you. And when I fall asleep touching you, I don’t have nightmares waking me up.”

He slid to the end of the couch and patted the cushion beside him. “Do you know why that is?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. It’s never happened before.” And I was scared to delve too deeply into it. Was Declan the perfect man for me or was I trying to remold him into that because I was lonely and wanted it to be true? I didn’t trust my reactions to him. I’d been wrong before.

“Hmm, I guess we’ll have to figure that one out.” His gaze bore into me. He wasn’t a pushover, not under some inadvertent spell. He was just as wary of me as I was of him.

Relief flooded through me. “Sitting up on the couch isn’t a comfortable way for you to sleep, so—I’m not propositioning you—we can also sleep on my bed.”

He glanced up the stairs and then out the windows. “I won’t be able to relax that far away from all these open entrances. Someone’s trying to make you go away and the pack isn’t happy with me. As much as I’d love to go up those stairs with you, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He patted the cushion beside him again. “We’ve made this work before. We can do it again.”

I gave him a pillow to put behind his head when he slouched down, his legs straight out, crossed at the ankles, his hands interlaced over his stomach. I threw the blanket I’d wrapped around myself earlier over him. I knew werewolves didn’t really mind the cold, but it was especially chilly in here tonight.

Placing a second pillow against his hip, I lay on my side, head on the pillow, legs bent so I fit, and then threw the blanket I brought downstairs over myself. “So, what’s happening with the pack? Logan doesn’t seem like the type to take his humiliation and let it slide.”

He chuffed out a breath. “No.” He was quiet for a while. “I don’t know. I’ve got pack members following me around. I don’t know if they have plans for me or are just keeping track of the lone wolf in their territory.”

“Aren’t you concerned about an ambush?” I snuggled deep into the blanket. The wind coming through the windows and doors was biting.

Declan pulled a corner of the blanket up, so it covered the top of my head. “Nah. And you shouldn’t be either. You’ve got enough going on. Pretty blanket,” he said, clearly changing the subject.

“Yours or mine?” His thigh muscle flexed under the pillow. If he didn’t want to talk about it, I wasn’t going to force him. For now, anyway.

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