Page 84 of Wind with a Chance of Wolfsbane

Marcy was suddenly before Jonathan, tossing her arms around him and clamping his arms to his side as she squeezed him in what was either a death grip or a hug. He wasn’t entirely sure. He hadn’t noticed she’d finished picking flowers and conversing with ants and butterflies.

“Uh, Marcy?”

She squeezed more. “You needed a hug. I could sense it. Your wolfy side needed one too.”

“Wolfy side?” he echoed as she continued to bear-hug him.

After what felt like an eternity, she released him and stared up at him. “I’m so excited for you. We should really get going, or we’ll miss her.”

“Her?” he asked. “Your friend Poppy? You mentioned wanting to stop by the Proctor House.”

She beamed. “Oh yes. I’ll be going there later, but not with you. Craig will take me.”

At the mention of Craig Van Helsing, Jonathan scratched the back of his head, trying but failing to make the connections Marcy was drawing. Craig wasn’t an official slayer with the organization, but he had been trained to fight demons like all the Van Helsing men. He’d dedicated his life to medicine and was a trauma surgeon working out of the local hospital.

Jonathan continued looking down at Marcy, trying to avoid noticing her cleavage. “No. I agreed to take you to run errands. As far as I know, Craig is working today.”

“Yes, silly, but he won’t be soon,” she said with a wave of her hand. “We should get going. We’re going to be late for a very important date.”

Unable to help himself, he chuckled. “Are we, by chance, headed to meet a white rabbit that you’ll be conversing with or having a tea party?”

Confusion knit her brow. “A whiterabbit? No. A tea party and conversation, yes. It will be so exciting. I will love being friends with Willa. I’m so glad you’re with her.”

“I don’t know anyone named Willa,” stated Jonathan.

Marcy went for the passenger-side door. “Of course you do, and I’m assuming you’re going to drive now.”

He fought a smile, helping her into the SUV. “It’s for the best, don’t you think?”

She pursed her lip and then tugged on it lightly. “Probably. My honey-bear isn’t going to be very happy with me when he finds out I hit another mailbox.”

Jonathan blinked slowly. “Another? As in, you’ve hit more than one already?”

“Maybe once or six times.” She cringed as she fastened her seatbelt.

Jonathan shook his head and closed the door behind her. Bram was going to be good and pissed later when he found out she’d been driving again. Jonathan wasn’t planning to offer the information.

He took a seat behind the wheel and started the SUV again. “To the Proctor House, then?”

“No,” responded Marcy. “The old funeral home on Gallows Lane, please.”

“I thought you wanted to stop and see your friend,” said Jonathan.

Marcy gave him a look that said this had been her plan all along.

He chuckled and pulled onto the road, heading for town. “Okay, to the creepy old funeral home on Gallows Lane.”

“You’re the best,” she said. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” he questioned.

She nodded as she folded her hands on her lap. “Mmmhmm. You’re going to love being a father.”

Her words nearly left Jonathan slamming on the brakes. Nothing about fatherhood appealed to him. The idea of passing on his curse to another person left him feeling sick.

“You look a bit green,” said Marcy. “Are you going to puke? I have a solution for that in my bag. Hold on, I’ll get it.”

She reached into the backseat area and retrieved an oversize bag that looked to have been made from leftover patches of material. She began rifling through it. She handed him a small jar. “Hold this.”

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