Page 21 of Howling Mad
Outside, Penelope waits on the sidewalk, looking both amused and concerned.“That was quite a show.”
“I’m so fired.”I slump against the brick wall.
“Maybe.”She plucks a fake leaf from my shoulder.“But you were magnificent.The way you stood up for him.That was something else.”
“He walked out without a word.He probably never wants to see me again.”
“Or maybe he needed to process.”She shrugs.“Call Red.Come clean.”
With trembling fingers, I dial my boss, expecting the worst.To my shock, Red laughs when I explain what happened.
“Oh, honey, I’ve been looking for an excuse to drop Talia for weeks.She’s on probation for harassing three other clients.The woman’s a menace with Louboutins.”Red’s voice radiates amusement.“As for Michael...Sometimes, the heart knows what it wants before the head catches up.”
I barely have time to absorb her words when my phone buzzes with a text from Michael:Didn’t expect to see you behind a potted cupid.Cupid strikes in mysterious ways.Right?Meet me at Waterfront Park?
My heart somersaults.He’s not angry.He wants to see me.“I’ve got to go,” I tell Red, not bothering to hide my smile.
“Follow your instincts,” she says cryptically before hanging up.
I glance at Penelope, who gives me a knowing smirk.“Try not to knock over any more decorative plants,” she says and then heads off toward her car.
The night air feels electric as I text Michael back.Somehow, through the disaster of toppled cupids, exposed disguises, and terminated clients, I feel a surprising sense of rightness.Whatever happens next, at least I stood up for what matters, and maybe cupid’s arrow struck true after all, even if it did come with a face full of potting soil.
Chapter 8
Michael
I’msprawledonaweathered bench in Waterfront Park, gazing at the full moon’s shimmering reflection in a shallow pond.A willow’s branches sway gently, brushing the water like a half-remembered lullaby from childhood.The park is nearly deserted tonight, save for an older couple strolling with their tiny dog and the occasional jogger’s rhythmic steps echoing in the distance.I’ve come here for solitude, a sanctuary far from the sting of tonight’s disaster.
My shoulders ache, still knotted from the venom of Talia’s outburst.Her words, implying I’m spineless and not wolf enough, slice through me, reopening old scars.It’s not the first time I’ve heard that critique, and I doubt it’ll be the last, but what lingers isn’t her cruelty.It’s the image of Finley tumbling out from behind a cupid-shaped topiary, leaves tangled in her hair, and a plastic arrow snagged in her sweater.Mortified as she was, she didn’t hesitate to fire Talia on the spot.A quiet laugh escapes me, surprising myself.I thought tonight had drained me of joy, but Finley’s chaotic heroism softens the edges of my wounded pride.
I glance at my phone, her text glowing on the screen.She’s agreed to meet me here to talk, and though part of me worries she’ll back out, too embarrassed by her tumble, I crave her presence.Talia’s rejection left me raw, but Finley’s defense—and her absurd crash—made me feel seen and cared for.A chilly breeze ruffles my hair, the temperature dipping.I pocket the phone, trusting she’ll come.
The moon hangs bright, nearly full and a perfect circle.In my pack days, I’d be out howling or running rituals under its glow.Here, I’m grateful for the distance from a life that never suited me.Then I hear footsteps, cautious and uneven, like someone’s trying to slip by unnoticed.My chest tightens with anticipation.I turn, and there’s Finley, her arms crossed in a light jacket, scanning the park as if expecting more topiaries to ambush her.A stray twig juts from her hair, a souvenir of her fall.Her cheeks flush under the lamplight’s dull glow, and warmth washes away the night’s bitterness.
I gesture for her to join me.She hesitates, her shoulders braced as if expecting anger.I let out a soft laugh, the sound startling the couple’s dog across the pond.
“You’re not angry?”she asks, her voice gentle, like she’s afraid to tip the night’s fragile balance.
I shake my head, grinning.“Angry at you crashing through a cherub?That’s too absurd to hold a grudge.”
She exhales, relief softening her stance.She spots the twig, yanks it free with a grimace, and tucks it into her pocket.“I thought you’d be furious I saw your date implode.Or that I made it worse.”
I shift, leaving space on the bench.“My pride’s bruised, sure, but you caring enough to take Talia down?That’s worth more than my ego.”
She rubs her elbow, her gaze on the ground.“I tookdisasterto a whole new level.”
I smirk, leaning back.“Professional observation gone rogue?”
She huffs, glancing away with a shy smile.“I told myself it was just business.Truth is, I was anxious.”
Her honesty settles between us, raw and unguarded.I resist the urge to touch her arm, meeting her gaze instead.“Anxious I’d fall for Talia, or that she’d hurt me?”
“Both, maybe,” she admits, hugging herself tighter.“Your last dates were nightmares.I just wanted this one to go right for you.”
I picture the cupid’s slow-motion collapse.“It was a spectacular kind of failure.”
She groans, covering her face.“That arrow’s going to haunt me forever.”
