Page 8 of Bella and Her Beast
“Oh, I’m still waiting on Joy to give me her number so we can go out.” He’s always had a thing for Joy. He’d bring her flowers, candy, even wrote her a romantic poem.
She wouldn’t budge. Nothing is wrong with him, she’s just driven to finish her degree. I tell her there’s nothing wrong with going out every once in a while. She always scoffs and waves me off. My words are only a copy of what she tells me often.
I take the box cutter and carefully slide the blade along the taped portion, freeing the flaps. Removing the filler, I see the new shipment of books sent from our major distributor. I separate them by category, take the pre-made labels and apply them to the spines. After which, I enter them into our system before placing them in their new homes. I open the second box and see a new shipment of our paranormal genre and it makes me realize I haven’t seen Mr. Devereaux, our mystery guy. I guess we could stop calling him that, but somehow he lives up to that moniker. He is mysterious.
“What are you over there daydreaming about?” Joy asks.
“Devereaux isn’t here.” I reply, with a hint of concern. Just a hint.
“I knew something was different. He usually slides in here right after you and stays the whole day.”
“Hmm.” I pick up the book on myths and spells and know that he’d be very interested in this. “Maybe I should go pay him a visit.”
“You have his address?” Joy questions.
“Um, yeah. Right here in my handy dandy computer system.” I type on the keyboard his name and search the database until I pull his information up.
“You could just call instead of driving out to his place,” Joy tosses over her shoulder while assisting a patron.
“I could. But since you are closing thanks to losing a trivial bet, and since this is for research on his next project, I think hand delivered is best.” I jot down the address and his phone number. I Google the property and the images pull up a rather large, almost castle-like structure full of lush acres and trees. It’s located off the lake and is breathtaking. Stowing the information in my purse side-pocket, I continue with my duties. The morning crew is busy with group activities for our seniors and participating schools. Meanwhile, I restock the paper in the copiers and printers, wipe down the self-serve stations, and perform basic housekeeping chores then settle at my desk to dive into my next read.
“I’m going to the sandwich shoppe, do you want anything?” Joy asks.
I’m so caught up in the words I didn’t even realize it is lunchtime. “Huh? Oh, no. I’m good. Thanks.” My nose is buried in a book and it is getting to the climactic part which holds my attention.
“Since I’m leaving, you have to watch the check-out desk,” she reminds me.
“Sure. Check-out is at eleven usually,” I turn the page and gasp at the actions of the hero and the heroine, not really focused on what she is saying to me.
“Bella, pay attention.” Her words break my concentration, and there are about three people waiting to leave.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. This book is getting good.” I place my novel down and tend to those waiting. Glad they are patient and have a sense of humor. When the line is clear, I return to my reading.
* * *
Greyson
“Good afternoon,Greyson. Glad you are back to a normal state,” Russell says, when I enter the kitchen.
“My fucking side is killing me. Any medicine I can take?”
“Here are the last remaining pills from Dr. Webster. She will call in another script and I will go pick it up later.”
I take them from his hand and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Twisting the cap, I down the first bottle and grab me another.
Russell looks at me over the rim of his round eyeglasses.
“What?” I groan.
“You don’t remember much about last night, do you?”
“Do I ever?” I open the fridge and snag a piece of lunch meat to snack, then remove the container so I can make myself a sandwich.
“At times, yes. But usually it happens earlier than now.”
The fact is, I do remember. I recall getting out of my car during transformation, scaring away the dangerous guys, getting stabbed by Bella, and then waking up in the protective chamber. “You wouldn’t bring this up if you didn’t have something to say.” I take the meat and place it on the bread covered in sandwich spread, top it with cheese, salt and pepper, and put the other slice on top.
“You were injured with a silver blade. The healing will be a little lengthier than normal and the longer you go without finding your mate, only improves your chances of becoming a full wolf.”
