How to Date a Werewolf (4 page)

“Well. Well. Well. What have we here?” The rubber bottoms of his big black boots squeaked on the hardwood when he stopped in front of me. He glared and licked his cracked lips.

Mr. Tough Guy rubbed me the wrong way.

He stepped closer, then hesitated before releasing another wicked leer my way. “You sure are a pretty young thing.”

Rage bubbled inside me. There was no way I could hold back what was about to happen. My mouth felt dry and my teeth grew. Two big canines poked my tongue like pointy daggers. Not that attractive, I know, but a fact, nonetheless.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer, an iniquitous sneer his expression of choice. Bad news was written all over his wrinkled face.

“Who are you?” I pressed.

“The name’s Charlie, sweetheart. I’m your friendly neighborhood...” He paused and scrunched his face. By the pained grimace, I knew thinking wasn’t something he did often. Did he even know who he was?

“Collector. Yeah, call me a collector.” He leaned against my shelf and curved his lips into a sneer as if he was immensely proud of his clever title.

“A collector. A collector of what? Seashells? Stamps? Dolls?” I smirked. My hands itched as they became fully covered in hair. I had furry gloves. So unattractive.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh? A wise-ass.” He reached for me, and I darted to my left, knocking over a table littered with figurines. Why was everyone messing with my damn figurines?

Unfortunately when I knocked over the table, I fell with it. I was a sitting duck--an easy target--and he knew it. I looked up and caught a good glimpse of his face. His beady eyes held not an ounce of empathy. Strands of his greasy dark hair flipped down onto his face. Maybe I should have feared him, but I couldn’t. Would my hairy mitts frighten him?

“Don’t come near me. You’ll be sorry if you do.”

“I’m shakin’ in my boots.” His tone was nonchalant, which made me furious.

He reached down and grabbed the front of my favorite blouse. I didn’t think it possible, but this day was beginning to be worse than yesterday.

“Now are you going to tell me where Ernie Cruz is or not? I’d hate to hurt a pretty thing like you.” The big oaf held me by my shirt collar and yanked me to my feet. My heels scraped across the floor making a shrill noise that echoed throughout the office.

“Ouch. Get the hell off me.” My neck burned where the collar had been pulled. It appeared Ernie had made someone extremely angry.

I grabbed his arms, pushing in an attempt to free his hands from my shirt. It didn’t work. My thoughts raced. The idea of spitting in his face crossed my mind, but what good would it do? The action would only increase his anger. Using my werewolf skills wasn’t something I enjoyed, but sometimes it was necessary. There was no need to let this guy bully me. I could give him a preview of my wolfish side and scare the sleaziness right out of him.

“Where is he?” he asked again.

Heat rose in my cheeks, and I sensed the familiar feeling rush through my body. There was nothing I could do to control my temper--not with that kind of pressure--so I might as well scare the bejeezus out of him. My eyes changed colors. I knew at what point in the process that happened.

“He’s not here.” I glared at him. Uncle Ernie was in trouble again. No doubt he was slinking around as a werewolf, wreaking havoc, and now I was involved.

His jaw dropped and he released my shirt. The expression on his face was priceless. If only I had had a camera to capture the moment. He actually let out a tiny gasp--not a noise I would expect to escape the lips of a tough-looking guy like him.

“What the hell are you?” He backed away, stumbling. His eyes grew wide.

“Get out of my office,” I snarled. I had the upper hand now.

“You tell Ernie I want my money.” His voice was almost a whimper.

“
You
tell Ernie. Now get out of my office before I hurt you.” I pointed toward the door with my furry paw, and he let out another gasp. “And don’t let me catch you here again.”

Wow, how brave was I?

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me,” he muttered.

“We’ll see about that,” I said.

He scurried out the door, almost falling over his own feet. His departure was a heck of a lot different from his entrance. When Charlie the goon exited, Jack appeared from his doorway and ran smack-dab into Charlie.

“Whoa, buddy. Take it easy.”

“She’s possessed. Something is wrong with her. I think she’s whacked out of it.” Charlie pointed at me.

He ran for the door, clawed at the knob then was gone.

I ran for my desk. Tripping over the rug, I righted myself, rushed the rest of the way in five seconds flat, then collapsed into my soft leather chair. I took a couple of deep breaths to regain my composure. Not knowing what else to do with my hands, I stuffed them under the desk so Jack couldn’t see. Did he have to be as gorgeous today as he was yesterday? He was good-looking and I was well on my way to being a beast.

Maybe my eyes had played tricks on me. Maybe he wasn’t that hunkalicious.

No such freakin’ luck.

He stood in my broken doorway, dressed in khakis and a white polo, starring at the mess. His blond hair was ruffled. Strong, tanned arms were exposed by his shirt.

“Don’t ask,” I said when he looked from the mangled mess of an office to me.

He parted his lips to say something. Then, I guess, he thought better of it. I shifted in my seat, the hair on my legs uncomfortable, and I ached to scratch myself like a dog with fleas. Again, I’m a werewolf, not a dog. Big difference. All right, so I attracted fleas too. No biggie.

I tried to read his expression. If he didn’t think I was a wacko earlier, he had to now. He shuffled his feet, lifting one loafer and then the other. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed as if he wanted to ask me something. With everything weird Jack had witnessed since we’d met, I was afraid to hear what he had to say. Finally, he moved closer to my desk and my heart thumped in anticipation. I think I let out an audible gulp when he drew near. The sun gleamed through the window behind me, bouncing off Jack, highlighting his good looks. His blond hair shone, and his eyes sparkled. I could get used to his face.

“I heard all the commotion and I wanted to check on you. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He leaned against my desk, looking so casual, as if he was right at home and entirely comfortable around me. After all the crazy stuff he’d seen, I didn’t understand how that was possible. But I wouldn’t complain.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you. That’s awfully nice of you.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear the door fall.”

“Yeah, I must have had my iPod earphones in.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” He pushed his hands into his pockets. How I wished I had pockets to shove mine into. I was stuck with hiding them under my desk. He probably thought I was concealing something crazy under there--little did he know it was hairy knuckles. I prayed he didn’t want to shake my hand. Any other time, I would be more than happy to shake his hand, hold it or caress it, for that matter, but not at that moment.

“Not really.” My voice had changed back to normal, instead of the low growl that had chased Charlie off.

“I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours...”

I nodded, sensing where he was going with his statement.

“Someone protested your office. A wild dog attacked you. Now some brute has knocked your door down.” He ticked each one of the incidents off on his fingers.

I cringed at the thought of how bad my life must look to him. Everything had been so normal forty-eight hours ago. Well, except for the werewolf part. Minor detail.

“Looks kind of strange from an outsider’s point of view, doesn’t it?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, kind of strange, to say the least.”

“My life isn’t normally this chaotic, I promise.”

“Okay.” He stared at me, and I felt my face heat up again. This time it wasn’t anger warming my cheeks, but desire.

“You have very interesting eyes. They look strangely familiar.” He studied me as if trying to place the familiarity.

“Really?” Wow, I had a way with words when in the vicinity of Jack Chandler. Not. One-word answers were all I could muster. Surely I could do better than that.

“You know, now that I think about it, your eyes look exactly like the woman who was protesting you yesterday. Are you related?”

Remain calm. There was no way he knew what werewolf eyes looked like.

“No, we’re not related. She’s just a customer. Or was.”

“I can’t imagine your eye color is all that common. Is it golden? It looks golden from here.” He ran a hand through his hair, showcasing his abundance of muscles.

“Hazel. They’re hazel.” I pointed to my eyes. “There are a few specks of gold mingled in.” I waved my hand dismissively. The fur was gone. “Sometimes the light makes them appear golden.” Looking down to hide my eyes, I wished he’d drop the eye color chitchat.

After a second, I glanced at him again, and the expression on his face let me know he was suspicious. I could tell by the lifted eyebrow. I’m not sure he bought the hazel explanation. But it wasn’t a complete lie. When I wasn’t halfway into werewolf form, they were hazel with little gold specks. But he was correct--I was sure at that moment my eyes were a glowing buttery yellow hue.

“Hazel. Um. Okay, hazel it is. You should know. They are
your
eyes.” He smiled that perfect smile, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He let out another hearty laugh.

I nervously chuckled with him, thankful the awkward conversation was over.

“Whatever color they are, they’re beautiful. Your dark hair really sets off the tint of them.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. After all the crazy antics, he’d complimented me. Me. Was he flirting? I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t want to be presumptuous. But it sure as hell sounded like an admiring comment. My insides did a little jig.

He walked away. “I need to get back to my office. Are you sure everything is all right in here?” He hoisted the broken door off the floor. Thankfully, he didn’t notice the table knocked over in the corner. Then he would have known there had been a struggle.

“Can I help you repair the door?” He leaned it against the wall.

“No. No. You have work to do. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’ll call someone to fix it.”

He paused and stared at me with that seductive look that he so obviously had down pat. “I know I don’t know you, but I’m worried about you. You have to admit someone knocking your door down is a bit odd. That sort of thing doesn’t take place every day. Are you sure this is
just
a dating service?”

Oh God. What did he think I was doing? Running a prostitution ring? Selling drugs? Making moonshine in the hall closet? Producing counterfeit cash under my desk? I was so embarrassed I was sure my face was the darkest shade of red possible. I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide. And I had thought he was flirting. How stupid could I be?

“It’s merely a dating service.” I tried to sound confident. I think it sounded as if I was hiding something that would only add to his apparent doubts about me.

“All right.
Get a Mate
, right?” He pointed a finger at me for confirmation.

I nodded my head. “Yes,
Get a Mate
.”

He shuffled backward a few steps. “Come and get me if you need me, all right? Don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I will. Thanks again.” I gave him a wide grin.

He hesitated and opened his mouth once more to speak, but didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out the doorway. The echo of his shoes bounced off the old walls as he ambled away.

I collapsed my head onto my desk. If it hadn’t been for the headache I already had, I would have beaten it against the hard surface. The door in the foyer that led outside was open. The hooligan hadn’t shut it in his frantic departure. After my wild dog attack, I was surprised Jack hadn’t noticed and shut it. A light wind slipped through, a welcome reprieve, even if warm and only for a moment. It was late September, but the days were still muggy and I was sweating after wearing furry gloves.

The traffic picked up. With it, exhaust fumes wafted through the open door mixed with a faint scent of the remaining late-blooming flowers outside. In front of my office I had a little patch of concrete. A tiny space. But enough for a few planters and such. I’d placed the rosebush close to the door so every time I walked in I would smell the roses. Even in the city, one should never be without flowers--they always lifted my spirits. And my spirits could use a lift.

People walked by and I lifted my head to stare at them, wondering if their worlds were as crazy as mine. Somehow I doubted it. I looked down at my hands, making sure the fur was gone. Whew. I was back to normal. At least what constituted normal for me. It was at times such as this that I wondered about my career choice.

I’d put everything I had into
Get a Mate
. Not to mention my parents’ retirement money. I couldn’t fail--I just couldn’t. Day after day, my customers said the same thing: finding a soul mate when you were that hairy proved to be extremely difficult. Try explaining to your new boyfriend why you grow outrageous amounts of hair and bay whenever the moon is full. Being a werewolf should not kill your social life, and my job was to lend a hand. Granted, I only turned into my complete werewolf-self during a full moon, or when completely stressed or very angry, but I sympathized with their pickle. Thankfully, I looked as normal as anyone else the rest of the time. As long as I didn’t forget to use depilatory on my knuckles, I was good to go.

I switched on the computer and checked my email. The usual penis enlargement spam and a reminder for the monthly pack meeting. Nothing important.

“Oh, my lord and Taylor. What the hell happened?” Jennifer’s scream broke the silence, interrupting my reverie. I forgot she hadn’t left for work yet. Now I would have to explain everything to her, reliving every agonizing detail.

“Rylie, are you all right?” She ran to my desk. “Are you injured?”