Page 50 of Can't Help Growling in Love
Stella murmurs a number, her eyes wide. “It’s almost three times what I paid for it when I bought it thirty years ago, can you believe it? And it needs renovation, of course. I don’t know what the new owner will use it for, but probably not as a radio station.” She turns toward the sound booths. “These will have to go, and everything else with it, I suppose.”
Her voice turns raspier with each word, and tears gather in her eyes. But I can’t comfort her because I’m too stuck on the number she told me.
It’s a lot of money, yes.
But not a ridiculous amount.Not impossible.
Could I…?
I push away the idea—I’d be crap at running a radio station. Who would write our Nightly News for us? Who would talk to the advertising clients? Since I’ve been working here for so long, I know the place inside and out, but the thought of talking to strangers on the phone still freaks me out.
Which is ironic, given that my job is talking to thousands of people on air, but they don’t answer back, not normally.
June was a stranger listening to my show just a few weeks ago.
The reminder stops me from listing all the things that could go wrong if I bought the property and the station.
“It’s nice that Natalie has stepped up to help with the advertising,” Stella is saying as she dabs the corners of her eyes with a wadded-up tissue. “I’ve had my hands full preparing for this sale.”
I turn to her, eyebrows raised. “Natalie helps with the advertising?”
She blinks. “Oh, yes, she’s been doing that for a few years. I still write the Nightly News because I like something to do, but other than that, Natalie’s taken on most of my day-to-day stuff. Didn’t you know?”
“No,” I murmur. “But that’s good information.”
Stella pats my arm again and wishes me luck, and then she’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I might be distracted by June, but this news… I’ll have to talk to Natalie. If she’s interested, my wild idea might come to something.
When the time comes to collect June from the hospital, I’m showered and dressed in a clean, if faded, set of sweats and a hoodie. I’m still furry, but for once, I don’t mind going out in public like that. Everyone else in Harmony Glen is comfortable being themselves, so why should I hide? I’m fresh as a daisy and ready to take my mate wherever she might need to go.
I’m hoping the destination she chooses is my bed, but I don’t want to rush her. Not when she has so much work to do on the house. I sent her Gabric Duval’s number to help her. When I was doing renovations on my house, the vulpine was booked solid, so I worked with someone else, but maybe June will have better luck.
But no matter how set I am on being steady and not-feral around June, my heartbeat speeds up the moment she steps out of the hospital’s back entrance. I follow her with my gaze, a hungry ache settling in the pit of my stomach. And when she opens the door and climbs into the truck, I nearly lose myself in her scent.
“Hey,” she greets me. “How was your shift?”
I croak out a sound that was supposed to be a word, but my throat is incapable of producing human speech at the moment. I shake my head and scrunch my eyes shut, then try again.
“Great.” I don’t mention the nervous workout routine, even though I know my quads will be sore tomorrow. “How was yours?”
I’m trying very hard not to reach for her, so I dig my fingers into my knees. If I hadn’t filed down my claws for June, I’d be shredding my sweatpants. But thinking of that is a mistake. Myfingers itch to be in her pussy again. I want to lick her sweet little clit and see her fall apart as I fuck her with my hand.
“Asher?” June blinks up at me. “You okay? You’re growling.”
I hang my head. “Sorry. I thought I had it under control. Just give me a minute.”
The moon has barely set, and even though it’s not entirely full, it’s fucking with my brain.
She bites her lip, looking like she might say something, then sits back and clasps her hands in her lap. “Yeah, no problem. What can I do?”
I start the car and press the window buttons to let in some fresh air. It’s a chilly morning, and the breeze coming off the lake is a welcome relief. “Talk to me. Tell me about your day. Are we heading for your house?”
“Yes, please.” June settles in her seat. “Well, my shift was pretty standard. Nothing too bad, but I was on my feet all night, so I’m really grateful you came to pick me up. Feels nice to sit for a few minutes.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, perfect.” I can still scent her, despite the wind, but the wild need to hold her feels less urgent now. “Keep going.”
“I texted Mr. Duval,” she tells me, her voice rising in excitement. “He texted back half an hour ago and said he can stop by the house at around nine to see if this is a project he can take on.”
