Page 60 of Wicche Hunt

“Ooh, good idea.” I unzipped the top and pulled out the muffin from yesterday that I’d wrapped in a paper towel. I broke it into three pieces and tossed them out for Otis and his siblings.

The nervous one by the back door finally relaxed and reached for the muffin. The other two scampered back and grabbed their own. Declan stood, pulling me with him, and we sat on the nearby bench, watching the raccoons nibble away. The nervous one stuffed the whole piece in and then moved back to a safe distance to chew.

“She’s scared of me,” Declan said. “The closer I get to the full moon, the stronger the wolf scent.”

I turned and sniffed his shoulder. “I just smell laundry detergent and warm Declan skin, not wolf. Of course, I’m not sure I’d be able to identify wolf smell. I didn’t notice a different smell when you were in your fur.”

He tapped my nose. “That’s because this isn’t as sensitive as theirs. They see human but they smell wolf.”

“Oh.” I nodded, watching my little friends. “If you guys are still hungry, I can get you more.” I turned to Declan. “I don’t know how healthy it is for them to just be having muffins, though.”

He laughed, causing the nervous one to move farther away. “They’re raccoons. They eat garbage. They’re fine.”

“Okay, good. Wait right here, guys.” I unlocked the back door and went in, closing it behind me. I didn’t want to chase baby raccoons around the studio. Balancing four muffins, I went back out, placed three on the deck, near each of the raccoons, and gave the fourth to Declan.

“Thank you. I’m starving.”

“I’m sorry I screwed up our dinner date.” Watching the three, I decided Otis’ siblings needed names.

“Not your fault.”

I knew which one was Otis. Don’t ask me why. I just did. They looked identical, but I knew he was the one in the middle. “Can you tell if the ones on the right and left of Otis are male or female? They need names.”

Declan lifted his face, scenting the air. “Female by the door and male by the railing.”

Studying the nervous one, I said, “You, I shall name Daisy.” She paused midbite and then continued eating. I watched the third for a few minutes. “It’s got to be Jasper.”

“Otis, Daisy, and Jasper, huh?” Declan tugged on my braid. “Do they play banjos?”

“Otis is on the banjo. Daisy plays the washboard. And Jasper…has one of those moonshine jugs he blows into.”

Declan kissed the back of my head. “I think you need to paint that.”

“I don’t paint that kind of—” I mean, I could. It might be a nice change from some of the other paintings I do. “Maybe a collection geared toward children and nurseries. That’s a thought. Maybe watercolors or line drawings. I’ll think about it and experiment. But not now. I have a gallery to get ready.”

Declan’s stomach grumbled loudly. “Sorry. Werewolf metabolism and I shifted tonight, adding to the need to eat soon. I have to ask. Do you have any meat I can cook? Otherwise, I’ll run out and pick us up some dinner.” He put a finger under my chin and tipped up my face so he could see me in the moonlight. “Or are you too tired for company? I can head out, if you are.”

Leaning into him, I said, “I’m very tired and emotionally wrung out, but I would love for you to stay, and I have a beef stew in the freezer I can heat up. I also have some smoked salmon you can have while the stew is heating.”

“Perfect,” he said, putting me on my feet and ushering me to the studio door.

“Good night, Otis, Daisy, and Jasper!” I called. “Sweet dreams, Cecil, Charlie, and Herbert! Oh.” I stopped Declan before he followed me in. “Can you see if Wilbur’s tennis ball is on the deck? I haven’t seen him for a little while. I’m getting worried.”

“Sure.” He stepped back out and I went to the kitchen.

If I was going to date a werewolf, I needed to up my meat game. I should probably get a barbecue. No. Better yet,he gets one and all barbecuing happens over there. Yeah. That works.

I plated the salmon and left it on my worktable with a fork, napkin, and beer while I went into my freezer, looking for the container of stew. I’d just turned around when I bumped into Declan with an empty plate.

“Dude, chew your food.”

Grinning, he rinsed off the plate and put it in the dishwasher. “That helped take the edge off. Thank you. It was getting painful.”

I gave him the container on my counter with four muffins. “Have at it. This will take a few minutes.”

He took them and sat on the couch, polishing them off in eight bites.

After defrosting it, I finally had the stew on the stovetop, heating up. I turned and found him watching me. “In the truck, when I was talking about me playing in this abandoned cannery, you got angry, but then told me to finish my thought. Why did you get angry?”

---