Page 9 of The Witch's Werewolf
He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Look. I didn’t want you to find out this way, but yes, I was watching you. Have been watching you. For a while.”
“You…what?” I look around the room. “The candles. Damn, I thought you were a fellow loner witch. But you’ve been stalking me this whole time?”
He doesn’t try to deny it. “Lurking. Stalking. Call it what you want. But I’ve been protecting my…my…you.” Timber gestures at me awkwardly, then rubs a hand through his dark beard.
“I’m not your anything, Timber.”
He doesn’t argue or agree; he focuses on my legs, ankles, and feet.
“Would you feel more comfortable if I called you an Uber?”
“Yeah, I’d kind of feel better if you didn’t know where I live.”
He stares at me.
My stomach drops. “Oh shit. You already know where I live, don’t you?”
Chapter
Three
Timber
Shit.I don’t know how to explain this.
Might as well fess up to everything.
“Please sit down and let me tend your wounds. Let me make you breakfast. And I’ll explain everything.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“I’ll make you a smoothie. You need something to help your body recover from all that running you did last night.”
Her pretty brow furrows. “If you put kale in it, or it’s green in any way, I’m calling the police.”
“Ah, the police are probably looking for me already. And I promise to make it delicious. And not green.”
She hesitates, then to my delight and surprise, Cherry finally, grudgingly agrees and takes a seat in the cozy bedroom chair angled in front of the fireplace.
I go to her and gingerly prop her wounded feet on the footrest and kneel down in front of her.
I explain everything as I carefully unwrap her bandages, clean the wounds, apply ointment and rewrap everything.
“I first saw you the day you started working at the candle shop. I saw you walking down the street with a tray of coffee for everyone, and I knew right away you were a nice person. You stopped to pet a stray dog in the road, even though your hands were full. You were five minutes late to work because you reunited the dog with its owner, who had lost him when he left him tied up outside the bike shop.”
“I remember that,” she says with a slight smile.
“I waited for a while, then followed you to work. Not because I’m a weirdo, but because I had an instinct about you. I felt drawn to you in the magical sense.”
“You might actually be a bit of a weirdo,” she teases.
I laugh. “Maybe.”
Her proud smile at making me laugh warms my heart.
I continue, “I went into the candle shop, and though I don’t have much use for candles, I bought one. My lungs are pretty sensitive to essential oils and fragrance, so…”
“So you bought unscented. That explains all of this. Are these all from my store?” Cherry asks.
