Page 30 of The Fangirl and the Grump

And I’m too old and grouchy for her. Too set in my ways.

It would never work.Wedon’t make sense.

It’s settled. She’s not attracted to me, and I’m not attracted to her.

Not at all.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?

ChapterThirteen

Keegan

While it might seem insane to me–especially coming from Seattle––the café side of Moonstone Mystic is closed for businesseverySunday. Willow insists we all need a day to relax and recharge, and people can brew their own coffee or get some from the gas station out by the highway if they’re desperate.

She has a single employee that can only work weekends, and he goes in on Sundays to handle the weekend tourists who stop inside to buy mystical objects or Cursed souvenirs. Willow’s not stupid, after all, and the weekends are her busiest times, especially during the summer months. She just refuses to give up her Sacred Sundays, as she calls them, and she knows if the café were to remain open, she’d get calls and texts all day about broken machinery, depleted ingredients, and even the odd snobby, pompous customer demanding to speak to someone in management.

And that’s how I find myself with absolutelynothingto do this morning. I slept in, and when I finally crawled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen for coffee, I took the mug straight to the couch where I curled up in the corner and sipped the hot drink while watching Curse for the bajillionth time.

My mind wanders as I stare at the television, my eyes not really seeing the images on the screen. I’m in outdoors heaven, and even though the sky is blotted out by a thick layer of clouds, a quick check of my weather app this morning assured me the chance of rain is slight.

I should be outdoingsomething, right? I can laze the day away on a couch anywhere.

“Maybe I should go hiking, or something,” I whisper to myself, then quickly scoff at the idea.

I’m not a hiker. Those trail walks on the bus tour nearly did me in, and they were easy paths to follow. And if I were tempted to pick up the hobby, I certainly wouldn’t be dumb enough to head out alone in unfamiliar terrain as a beginner. So, unless someone locally decides to randomly invite me on a hike with them, that activity is a bignofor me.

What else?

My phone chimes before I can come up with another idea. I’m instantly suspicious, wondering who might be texting me. It’s not my birthday or Christmas, so my parents are out. No one from back home has any reason to reach out, and Willow assured me she would be completely wireless today.

My brow furrows as I open my texting app and read the message.

503-555-2005:What are you up to today?

I recognize the area code as being local. Willow’s number bears the same. But it’s not her. I have her number programmed into my phone. It could be a wrong number, but that’s a really weird coincidence that someone in northwestern Oregon would be accidentally texting my number while I’minnorthwestern Oregon.

I’d normally just ignore a message from an unknown number––text scammers are real––but the local number has me curious. I text back an innocuous message and wait to see what happens next.

Me:Sorry, I think you have the wrong number.

503-555-2005:It’s Trace.

I sit up straighter, my eyes and nostrils flaring with surprise. Why is Trace texting me?Howis Trace texting me?

Me:How did you get my number?

503-555-2005:It’s on your rental application. I don’t mean to overstep by using it, but there’s something I want to show you. Something I think you’d really like.

Flashes of naked flesh against naked flesh flood through my mind, but I shake my head to dislodge the dirty thoughts. No fucking way is Trace Bardin texting because he wants to show me his wolf willy.

Narrowing my gaze, my thumbs fly over the screen as I save his number. I can’t resist giving his number theonlyappropriate nickname, though. It’s okay. He’ll never know. Afterward, I tap out a snarky response.

Me:Are you trying to lure me out into the woods and kill me? Bury me where no one will ever find my body?

Wolf Daddy:No need to bury you. The wolves will make short work of your corpse.

His mention of wolves after I just saved his number as “Wolf Daddy” has me snorting as I tap out a reply.

---