Page 4 of Can't Help Growling in Love
I’ll miss her after she moves. I don’t have many friends, and even fewer relatives I talk to, so losing even one of that number is a significant loss. I know she’ll stay in touch, that’s just the kind of person she is. But everything will be different from now on.
I sigh and cue up the next bit of text to read, a notice about the upcoming Halloween festival organized by the mayor’s office.
“Remember, folks, stay safe, and don’t let the upcoming hunter’s moon drive you crazy.”
I wince at the reminder. The members of the local wolf community have invited me once more to spend the full moon with them. They usually run wild in the forested conservation area south of our town. But I sent back another apology, saying I had other plans. Since those plans include locking myself in my comfortable basement room for most of the day and riding out all the urges that come with it on my own, I should really reconsider. But the thought of being around other people while I shift to my full wolf form is…unpleasant, to say the least.
It takes all my willpower to keep my mind firmly on my work and things otherthan the message request. I haven’t accepted it, and I switched it back to unread so Juniper wouldn’t be able to tell I read it. I don’t know how these notifications work, but I don’t want to give them any indication that I saw it.
As I prepare the next chapter ofSense and Sensibility, I wonder if they’ll be listening this time around, too. They work at the ER, so they must have the night shift, like me.
I try not to picture this Juniper person, but my mind paints a female nurse in blue scrubs anyway, and my dick twitches in my sweatpants.
“Fuck,” I murmur.
I shouldnotbe reading Jane Austen on live radio with a hard-on.
Some breathing exercises later, I berate myself for being a sexist ass—the person who sent me the message might not even be a woman, let alone young and sexy. I’ve successfully deflated my cock, though, which is a relief.
As I hit the record button and start reading the book out loud, I promise myself to deal with the message after this.
But after I finish up the chapter, I’m no clearer on what I should do. I put several songs in the queue, then open my appagain and stare at the message as if it contains the secrets of the universe.
I could just ignore it. Delete it and pretend that I never saw it. But it’s a bad idea. I know how people are. If I don’t reply, Juniper will ask someone else if they think my voice sounds familiar. They’ll dig into it, and sooner or later, my identity will be exposed.
Would that be so bad?
A voice chimes in my head, sounding suspiciously like Leo. No, it wouldn’t be bad if I was exposed as Damon Holt. I’m not ashamed of my career—otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing it. I actually enjoyed most of the books I worked on, especially the ones about the aliens. I’ve always had a thing for sci-fi. But I’ve built a cocoon of privacy around myself. I don’t have personal social media accounts. I do most of my shopping online to avoid the crowds. The people I talk to the most, apart from Stella and the other hosts at the station, are the pizza guy and the postman.
Which sounds pathetic, now that I think about it. But exposing myself as the rising star of audiobook narration would open up a door I’m not sure I could ever close again.
My second option is to lie. I could tell this listener that I’ve never heard of Asher Summers and that I most certainly don’t live in Harmony Glen. But what would that accomplish?
They’d only question it, and again, might tell other people about their suspicion.
So my only real option is to come clean and ask them to keep the information to themselves. They’re a nurse, so they probably like helping people, right? I’d hope so anyway.
I get through my shift on pure autopilot. It helps that I’ve done this five hundred times before—literally. I’ve barely taken any days off apart from the night of the full moon every month. Weekends and vacations tend to upset my routine, and Stellaunderstands that. My colleagues are usually all too happy to let me have those holiday slots anyway.
By the time I’m done, daylight filters through the window of the front office, and I’m tired—exhausted from all the thinking and decision-making. Marcos arrives to take over the early morning show, and I skirt past him, nodding.
“Morning, Asher.” He eyes me with worry, his usual sunny demeanor subdued. “You smell strange. Everything okay?”
I let my gaze slide up to the horns gracing the minotaur’s head, then focus on his kind brown eyes. “Yeah, I just didn’t get much sleep yesterday. Gotta go catch up. See you tomorrow!”
I’m out the door before he can ask any more friendly questions. I like Marcos, but he’s a morning person through and through—way too cheerful and talkative. Guilt still gnaws at me when I shove my arms into the sleeves of my jacket, slide my backpack on, and jog through the empty streets of Harmony Glen.
I bought my house for two reasons—because it backs up to the woods, which means fewer neighbors, and for its proximity to the radio station. Only three blocks, and I’m home, pushing through the rickety gate, walking through the overgrown yard that’s never going to win any neighborhood awards, to the front door. The electronic lock beeps as I punch in my code, then let it scan my fingerprint. The alarm turns off, and a green light blinks at me. I slide inside with a sigh of relief and switch on the outside alarm again, just to be sure.
After I’m showered and burrowed under the covers, I bring up the message request again. This time, I move it to my main message folder and slowly type out the reply.
I stare at the text for ages, until the lines blur, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Then I hit send, hoping I haven’t fucked up.
Chapter
Four
JUNE
