His Wolf (Wolf of My Heart) (8 page)

"Goodnight. I'm,
er
, sorry I cursed at you."

"It was totally my fault."

Since neither of us said anything else, the house got very quiet. My thoughts began to ebb and flow, and I soon slipped into the limbo land between waking and sleeping before plunging into complete oblivion.

I don't know what startled me into consciousness sometime later, but something did. For several seconds I lay still as death, trying to figure out why I was suddenly so wide awake. The room still had that eerie glow that was all I needed now that my eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark. I heard the crack of a limb outside, which didn't scare me as much as earlier. I knew the reason for that sound now.

The noise that followed that was one I didn't recognize--a sort of snuffling sound around the window between my bed and Erik's. My skin crawled in response. Oh so slowly, I
raised
up and peeked through the panes. Though it was pitch black out, the snow provided a contrasting silver sheen that gave form to shadows. I saw some of them move. With a soft gasp, I ducked back. My heart thudded in my chest.

Man or animal or both-in-one?

It took several seconds to get up enough nerve to get out of bed. With no thought to the chill in the air, I soundlessly moved through the bedroom toward the door. Once I got through it, I relaxed a little.
So far, so good.
I hadn't woken Erik. I crept across the smooth wooden floor and braided throw rugs, my goal to look out the living room window into the clearing that served as his front yard. Just as I got there, a shadow shifted inside the house. I gasped.

Erik, who was already up and looking between the narrow slats of the blinds, clapped his hand over my mouth.
"
Shhh
."

I put my hand to my heart to keep it inside my chest as I whispered, "Oh-
em
-gee. I nearly
peed
my pants."

"Someone's outside."

"Some
one?
You see a person?"

"What else would it be?"

A werewolf?
Nah.
Better not go there. I'll admit I crowded Erik a little, which was why I quickly realized he held a rifle. That pleased me. He was ready to fight for us.

But there was no need. Though we stood in silence for at least twenty minutes with our hearts hammering, neither of us heard another thing. Finally, he turned away from the window.

"Know how to shoot that thing?" I asked, watching him lean the rifle into the corner of the room.

"Nope."

"Well, just pointing and pulling the trigger would probably do the trick."

"If it were loaded, which it's
not.
And before you ask, there's no ammo anyway."

So much for being ready to fight.

Chapter Six

By Monday morning, the snow had stopped. Under brilliant blue skies and bright sunshine, our immediate world positively glistened.  I tested my muscles--not as sore as yesterday and my wrist actually felt great. An inspection of my bruises in the privacy of the bathroom revealed that they were all fading.
A Were
thing? I wondered. If so, I'd never heard of it, but then Yarbrough hadn't been very forthcoming with werewolf facts.

After dressing in jeans and a tee, I took a cup of hot chocolate outside with me and sat in one of the rustic chairs on the front porch. I also wore my hoodie, which was the heaviest outerwear I owned. So when Erik joined me with the afghan in his hand, I smiled my gratitude.

I felt a little guilty for having eaten so much of his food without paying my part of grocery costs. As for sleeping in his spare bed, I knew it was time for us to talk money arrangements. "How much do I owe you so far?"

"For what?"

"Room and board."

"Oh, um, what's the going rate these days?"

"Well, if I'd stayed in a motel, I'd have paid at least fifty dollars a night, probably more. And no one can eat out for less than ten. So I'm thinking eighty bucks…?"

"That's too much."

"I think it's fair."

"Look, Bronte. If you pay me for staying here, then I'll have to pay you for modeling. It'll never end."

Modeling, huh?  That was a joke. "Then I'm at least going to replace the groceries I've used, and I'll fix that washing machine, too. I'm sure there are instructions on the internet. You do have internet, right?"

"Yeah.
Through my cell phone.
I have this gizmo I hook to my laptop. There's usually a pretty strong signal, thanks to a tower a couple of miles from here, so we shouldn't have any problem on that score."

"Good." I sipped my chocolate, which had already cooled considerably in the chilly air. "Are you taking more photos today?"

"Thought I might.
Want to come?"

"I do."

We both went into the house moments later. I removed my hoodie and pulled a sweater over my T-shirt for extra warmth before putting it on again. Though I knew my Nikes wouldn't protect my feet from the cold, they were all I had, so they'd have to do. Erik put on his pea jacket and rubber boots. Once we were bundled up, we headed outside into the woods.

The sight of all that snow on the trees took my breath away. The freshly cleansed air made everything around us appear just a little sharper. While Erik photographed his way through the scenery, I followed more slowly, sniffing the air and checking the ground for new prints. Today I sensed nothing unnatural and my mood lightened by the minute. "Erik?"

He
turned,
his camera in hand. I hurled a snowball that just missed it and splattered full on his face. His expression was so shocked that I lost it--big mistake. Before I could catch my breath, two snowballs slammed me, one in my hair, the other square in the middle of my chest. I staggered back. He hooted.

Game on!

Scooping up another handful of the fluffy stuff, I flung it at him. He turned at the last minute, which meant it barely grazed his shoulder. Payback was swift, deadly, and close-up. Erik charged and smashed a handful of snow right in my face, making sure he ground it into my eyes, nose and mouth. Gasping, I tried to retaliate, but found myself flat on my back in eight inches of snow.

How had that happened? Erik hadn't even moved.

Laughing like a
doofus
, he pounced, straddling my middle while he heaped handful after handful of snow on my frozen face and neck. Sputtering, I tried to fight back. It was pointless. He had me.

"You win!" I squealed, slapping him away.
"Stop!
Stop!"

Giving me a smug grin, he got to his feet. I instantly leapt to mine and started pounding him all over again--giant handfuls of unpacked snow that covered him in powder
where it hit him. Erik leapt forward with a battle cry. Before I could retreat, he had me in a headlock with my right arm immobilized behind me.

"
Ow
!"

He let me go. "Did that hurt? Sorry.  I forgot all about your being sore."

I stuck my tongue out.
"Fooled
ya
!
  I'm actually fine."

Erik started laughing. With his eyes twinkling and that wicked smile, he had to be the hottest guy on the planet, if not the world. My heart sort of swooped in my chest, a purely physical reaction that didn't stop there. I was a little startled by the intense feelings bombarding me. I'd never wanted to kiss a boy as much as I now wanted to kiss him.

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Nothing."
Everything.
I shook my head, but couldn't shake off my sudden desire for him.

"Sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Positive." I began brushing snow off my clothing.

Erik did the same, his gaze on me the whole time.

"Sorry I distracted you from your work," I said.

"We probably needed the break." With a half smile, he checked out his camera, which had a few droplets of melted snow on it, but otherwise looked okay. Erik took off through the woods again.

I kept up and actually ran ahead every now and then to check out a particularly beautiful tree or fallen limb. The pine trees really caught my eye as did anything with berries, and more than once I framed a shot with my thumbs and forefingers before motioning to Erik to come shoot something especially pretty.

We didn't head back to the house until after 2:00. While he downloaded recent photos onto his PC, I made turkey sandwiches. That's when I noticed that he was really low on supplies, something a quick peek into his pantry verified. "Why don't we get groceries this afternoon?"

Lost in his task, Erik barely acknowledged that I'd spoken. "Okay."

"You do have a car or something, right?"

He pointed towards the rear of the cabin and a closed door I hadn't really noticed.

I walked straight back and discovered a tiny room that held the washing machine and dryer. Spotting another door, I opened it and saw Erik's back yard. Parked in it was an older model Jeep Cherokee covered in snow. When I turned back, my gaze landed on the washing machine again. I checked out the brand, knowing I had some internet research to do before I could help him fix the thing. Hopefully it wouldn't be so complicated that we couldn't follow directions.

When Erik eventually tore himself away from his computer, we ate. While he tossed paper plates in the trash, I took his seat and surfed the net long enough to find a step-by-step how to that I thought would do the trick. I also read the directions on the pump box, something guys invariably forgot to do. And when I finally got to work, things went pretty well. Erik stood by, watching in obvious amazement and helping when needed as I removed the front cover of the machine, removed the old pump, and then installed the new one.

Though there were guys who just didn't get stuff like that, Erik really wasn't one. He handed me every tool before I requested it, revealing common sense that would've enabled him to do the repair himself. I decided he just hadn't wanted to mess with it before now. I couldn't blame him. The woods outside were a lovely distraction, especially to a photographer.

"You rock!" He high-fived my dirty
right hand
once I tightened the last screw on the washing machine cover a couple of hours later. I started to grab a mop to get rid of the water that had leaked out of the tub. Erik beat me to it. "I'll do it. You get cleaned up so we can go into town."

Since both hands and my forearms were a greasy mess, I left him and washed them. I also reapplied makeup the snowball fight had washed away and finger combed my hair, which I then twisted into a messy knot. When I was presentable once more, I went back into the living room to find Erik once again at his computer. I saw that he was watching a slideshow of some outdoor shots. When he spotted me, he closed everything out. "I put all our dirty stuff in the washer. It's actually working."

"Your surprise is a little insulting." Hiding my grin, I bent to dig some money from the outside zippered pouch of the sports bag and stuck it in my pocket, sorely missing my purse.

Erik led the way out the door. It took several minutes for us to clear off the car's windshield, but it wasn't hard to do. The snow was quite dry.
Getting to a decent road proved to be a much harder challenge.
His drive was little more than a dirt path now covered in snow. The car lurched its way through the woods for a good quarter mile before we got to a gravel road. After a mile or three on it, we reached asphalt and then, finally, the highway.

Neither of us said much on the drive into Branson. We got to the grocery store around 5:30. I let Erik push the cart while I filled it with food I thought he wouldn't buy for himself under normal circumstances--a couple of kinds of meat, fruit and vegetables, some sweets and snacks, and a few frozen items.