 
# Falling For A Wolf #1

### BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance

## Mac Flynn
Copyright © 2020 by M. Flynn

All rights reserved.

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### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Continue the adventure

Other series by M. Flynn

# 1

I hadn't driven that road in fifteen years. Hell, I hadn't been driving the car those fifteen years ago, not unless my parents had decided it was time to teach their ten-year old daughter how to drive a stick. Things had changed, I had changed, and more things were going to change.

First, though, my heels clicked on the empty halls. It was the long walk I took once a week down the hollow corridor to the dungeon-like room. It was there that I would be a slave to my master, a man of little pity but a long whip. He would crack it and order us-

"Do you have to be so loud?" the man beside me complained. On either side of us were rows of desks and cubicles filled with our fellow employees.

All right, I admit I wasn't walking to some evil dungeon that held a torture master. Instead I was at my office, or rather my office away from my office. My name is Christina Monet, and I am a website content provider extraordinaire. At least, that was my job description. In layman's terms I was a blogger, a columnist, a bullshitter, a writer of interesting one-off articles that caught your attention in the blink of an eye and lost it just as fast. I could crank out a column a day if the topic didn't involve too much research, two if it was in-depth science-y stuff. That was how I made my living, and I wasn't half-bad at it. I got the clicks and was rewarded with a paycheck. That paycheck was what got me on that old road down memory lane.

First, though, it got me this weekly meeting of the content providers. The man beside me was one of them. I can't remember his name, so to be accurate and mature I'll call him Butt-face. Butt-face scowled at the clack of my shoes, but I couldn't help it. Most days I went around in pajamas and slippers. This weekly submission to the pantriarchy was a real pain in the heels.

"I have a condition that forces me to walk loudly," I told Butt-face. He sneered, but didn't bother me further.

We walked down the long hall to the meeting room where our boss, Mr. Whinier, would go over the sales figures and crack his whip to get us motivated. Me and a half dozen others, including Butt-face, walked into the long meeting room with its long meeting table and took our seats. At the head of the table was Whinier. He was about fifty with hair that bespoke Rogaine and a wide, fake smile that scared small children. Me, too, when he got close enough.

At the foot was a giant flat-screen TV. On the screen were another half-dozen smaller screens. Some showed people, and others were black but soon turned on to show more of our fellow employees. I envied those people. They were the special ones, the ones who worked too far from the office to be forced to come into the meeting and only had an occasional face-to-face meeting with the boss. Oh sure, they wore blouses and shirts like the rest of us, but I bet underneath the screen they were naked. Now you know why I envied them.

"All right, time for the sales figures," Mr. Whinier barked.

As he droned on about money, profits, stocks and money, my eyes wandered over to the screen and my mind wandered into a daydream. I imagined myself seated at my desk in my own home, and a causal glance out the window would show me a shimmering lake or green lawn with waving grass. Birds would be chirping on the windowsill and a dog would-

"Miss Monet, pay attention!" Whinier barked.

I jumped and slapped a smile on my face. "Sorry about that, Mr. Whinier."

"I don't want apologies, I just want you to pay attention," he growled.

He went over his numbers, and a long two hours later the meeting was at an end and so were a few of my brain cells. I, with my compatriots, stumbled from the room and out into the harsh artificial light of the long hallway to the elevators. Butt-face came up beside me and sneered. "You're lucky you make so much money or Whinier would've booted your ass out the door."

"He'd boot your ass out the door but it's too big," I snapped back.

I eluded his ugly looks and opted for the one route his chubbiness would never travel, the stairs. As I made my way down the many flights I pondered my present situation and decided I really needed a change of scenery, if only to escape having to be face-to-face with Butt-face. Maybe seeing him and the others through a screen would ease the shock of seeing their cheerful, smiling faces every week.

With that decided I shuffled home to my tiny apartment and plopped myself onto my decrepit couch. The place was the pits and I could have afforded better, but I saved my money and held out for a piece of real estate of my own far from the bustle and hustle of the city. That, and the boardroom.

Then the phone rang. I picked it up and groaned. It was my mom for our weekly chat. My parents lived too far away to visit, so we called each other a lot. I answered it. "Hi, mom."

"Hello, Chrissy, I was just checking up on you and your week," my mom's sweet voice sang over the receiver.

"Ugh," I groaned.

"That well?" she teased.

"You know a good piece of swamp I can buy so I can get out of these face-to-face meetings?" I asked her.

"There's always the guest house," my mom suggested. My parents had a guest house in the backyard I used as my own home before moving to the city.

I rolled onto my stomach and glared at the arm of the couch. "I was hoping to get a dog someday, and you know Dad's allergies." He was allergic to every kind of pet that had fur. Even the sight of a cat or dog on the television made him shudder.

"What about a small house nearby? We could help you move in," she persisted.

I face planted into the couch cushion and my words were muffled by the old fluff. "Mom."

"All right, all right, no moving in next door to the parents because you want to be your own woman," my mom agreed. There was a pause and I could imagine her tapping her chin like she always did. "You know, if you're really looking for something to buy there's always the cabin near Froggy Pond," she told me.

I lifted my head and looked at the receiver like it was nuts. "Froggy Pond?" I repeated.

My mom laughed. "Don't you remember? It's what you called the pond near that cabin house we rented when you were ten. You hunted the tadpoles and frogs, and there were so many you ended up nicknaming it Froggy Pond."

My eyes lit up. "You mean that place is for sale?" I recalled a well-built cabin, sturdy enough to be called a house, and a natural spring and pond on the property.

"Yes. Your father saw it listed in the paper a few weeks back. I'm not sure if it's still for sale, but we almost thought about buying it because the price was so good. The only problem is it's so secluded, and your father didn't want to make the two-hour long commute one-way, especially during the winter," she explained.

Visions of forest cabins danced in my head. My home-away-from-civilization-and-face-to-face-meetings was near at hand. "Could you find me the phone number of the realtor?" I pleaded.

"I suppose, but you have to do something for me in return," my mom demanded.

My face fell and I sighed. "What is it?"

"You have to come visit us more often."

I snorted. "I think I can manage that." I was four hours from them now. Moving would get me half that distance.

To make a short story even shorter, my mom got me the phone number and it turned out it wasn't the realtor. The phone rang on the other line as I waited breathlessly and with my pitch all ready. I was just looking, not too interested, would the owner go down on the price? All that jazz.

Someone picked up. "Hello?" came the scratchy voice of an elderly man.

I turned on my best professional talking voice. "Hi, my name is Christina Monet, and I was calling about the Johnson property. Is it still for sale?"

"That depends on what you were going to use it for. There's some stuff I want to put in the contract about not developing the area," the man told me.

I frowned. "The owner wants to put some stipulations in the contract?" I guessed.

"I am the owner," Johnson replied.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I thought you were a realtor or something," I apologized.

"Nope, but what were you planning on doing with the property?" he gruffly asked me.

"I was going to live in the cabin, if it's still there," I explained.

"Any plans to build a bigger house?"

"No."

"Pave the road?"

"I hope not."

"Dig up the pond and be fiddling with the spring?"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Yer not the first one to be calling, and a bunch of the others wanted to be messing with the natural look of the place," he explained.

"To be honest I don't really have that much money saved up so if I did have something else planned other than fixing up the house I'd have to leave the job to my kids to finish," I admitted.

"You plan on having kids?" he asked me.

"Uh, maybe some day, but I didn't think there were that many eligible bachelors up there," I replied.

He snorted. "Ya might be surprised, but what'd you say yer name was again?"

"Christina Monet."

"Monet, Monet," he mumbled. "You related to a Peter Monet?"

I pulled my phone away, blinked at it, then returned it to my ear. "Yes, he's my dad, but how'd you know that?"

"Ya rented the place a few years back?" he questioned me.

"Yes, but how-"

Johnson chuckled. "Got a memory like a bear trap. Once it's in there it don't let go, though I am getting a little rusty."

It was my turn to snort. "You've got a lot better memory than me."

"Well, I might and I might not, but you were hoping to get that land, so it's yers," he told me.

I nearly dropped the phone. "It is?" I squeaked.

"Yep. When can ya sign some papers the damn government and that realtor of mine wants filled out?" he asked me.

"But don't you want to haggle?" I wondered.

"Nope. You've got all the right specs for me. Don't want to change anything and ya know the place already. Can't beat that," he explained. "Now you takin' it or leavin' it?"

My face broke out in a wide, stupid grin. "I'll take it!"

And that was how I got my first piece of real estate.

# 2

The paperwork took a couple of weeks, but in a month I found myself on the road toward my new home. The cabin lay far in the mountains on a particular one named Big Bear Mountain, and the state road went only to the foot of that mountain. At the foot lay a long stretch of beautiful flat meadow land filled with fields of hay and livestock. It was two months into autumn when I went up to inspect and move into my new abode. It wasn't the smartest move to buy a property I hadn't seen in fifteen years, but I figured with enough You-tube self-help videos I could fix the place up.

I know, I'm an optimistic idiot.

I rolled down my window and slowed my car to smell the fresh scent of the newly cut hay. It was like the smell of cut lawn, but sweeter and stronger. The mooing of cows mixed with the neighing of horses, and here and there an old farmhouse dotted the land with their short gravel driveways leading off the paved highway. I was surprised by how little had changed. It was refreshing to see so many familiar sights without the usual intrusion of modernity or change.

The mountain and my home towered in front of me and I was eager to reach the place before mid-afternoon, but I was low on gas and the last chance to get any was at a small general store at the bottom of the mountain. I pulled the car over, shoved the gas nozzle into the tank, and turned to the general store. It was a single-story, wide-and-deep, log-hewn construction. Gray chink filled the gaps between the twenty-inch wooden thick logs, and large windows looked out on the small gravel parking lot and the highway. The store stood on a tall foundation and steps led up to a porch that wrapped clear around the building. Facing the store you could see a tall chimney peeking out the left side of the roof about halfway along the building. Its filling station consisted of one pump with two nozzles, one for gasoline and the other for diesel. The diesel handle looked more used than the gasoline handle.

The click of the nozzle told me my tank had reached its fill on my Subaru and I moved the car to the front of the store beside a truck that looked like it saw better days about twenty years before I was born. The tailgate was missing, there were more dents in its sides than a hockey player after a particularly rough game, and the paint peeled before my eyes. I carefully stepped around the truck, fearing it would fall apart if I brushed against it, and climbed the stairs.

Inside the store a bell rang above the door and I was greeted by the rustic smells of aged wood and dried foodstuff. There were eight aisles filled with canned and dried food, and the walls were covered with shelves of fishing and hunting supplies. Straight ahead opposite the door was the checkout counter, and on the wall behind that was a large collection of antique guns and mounted heads of local animals like black bears and cougars.

Behind the counter stood a woman of about forty, and in front of the counter were a pair of creatures I would describe as woodsman if I wanted to insult woodsman. They were about the same height and each sported a beard that would put Santa to shame. Their long brown hair was slick with grease and pulled into ponytails that ran down their backs. Their clothes were army-gear colored pants with green vests over dark, buttoned shirts. They wore thick, black army boots and were covered in filth up to their hips.

Their age was hard to figure out, but I guessed they were in their late thirties. Their similar thin-faced, ragged features with narrow, dark eyes told me they were related. Either they were brothers or there was some incest in the family. I figured they were some of my new neighbors, but I couldn't get any closer to them because of their smell. It smelled like they'd made love to a skunk who hadn't appreciated the amorous attention. My experience in the city told me they were hiding something, and the yellowing on their teeth said it wasn't apples and oranges. They dealt in some strong drugs and partook more than they should.

The woman on the other side of the counter was tense and I imagined she didn't appreciate the smell any more than I did. "I'm telling you for the fiftieth time I don't carry that kind of stuff," she told them.

"And ya can't even get it on that internet thingy?" one of the men drawled. The other chewed on something, and by the black color of his teeth I guessed it was tobacco.

If these were my neighbors, my life living alone in the woods suddenly wasn't a very good idea.

"Listen, Clyde. If you want to get some of those hydroponic stuff that's your business, but I won't help you along with it," the woman insisted.

Clyde sneered at her and turned to the other man. "Come on, Clem. Looks like our money ain't wanted."

The woman snorted. "I'd like to see what would happen if either of you two you went into town. I'm pretty sure the sheriff was wanting a word with you about some illegal trapping."

"Maybe we'll come back or maybe we won't," Clyde warned her. The two men turned away from the counter and stomped down the center aisle.

I jumped out of their way into a side aisle and Clyde marched past, but Clem glanced at me and paused. He stopped his chewing and gave me a big, tar-stained grin. "Hello there," he greeted.

"Clem, stop harassing my customers!" the woman yelled.

Clem's grin fell off his face and his eyes flickered over to the woman. They weren't full of sunshine and rainbows. He turned away, cast a rather feral look at me, and followed his relative out the door. I breathed a sigh of relief, and of fresh air. Their odor left with them.

The woman leaned over the counter and smiled at me. "Sorry you had to see me in my tough mood. I don't act like that to all my customers."

A derisive snort came from a far corner of the store. "They got what's coming to them," the voice of an old man argued.

The woman looked to her right and scowled at the speaker. "And you weren't much help."

"You don't need any help," the person argued.

I strode up to the counter and followed the woman's gaze. In the corner stood a large, potbelly wood stove with the pipe I'd seen outside. Beside the stove sat a man of about sixty-five in a wooden chair. He had a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. In his hand was a pipe he occasionally puffed on.

"My name's Agnes Arbuckle, and I'm the manager of this store," the woman introduced herself. She gestured with one hand to the man. "This is my father Abner. He's the owner."

Abner bowed his head to me. "Howdy," he greeted me.

"Hi. I was looking to get some supplies," I replied.

Agnes scrutinized my appearance. "You must be the girl who bought the part of the old Johnson place near the spring."

I sheepishly grinned and glanced down at myself. I wore a pair of old jeans and a simple blouse. "Do I look that city-folkish?" I asked her.

She smiled and shook her head. "Nope, but it's too late in the season for campers and you don't look the type that any of those snooty folks would be inviting to their big places. That, and Mr. Johnson also phoned and told us he'd sold it to a young girl and she'd be coming up soon."

"Snooty people?" I repeated.

The old man took a puff on his pipe and quickly blew a puff of smoke into the air. "Aye. The rich folk couldn't get a hold of the fine land down in the valley here so they bought up most of the forest on Wolf's Mountain."

I furrowed my brow. "Wolf's Mountain? Where's that?"

"That's what the locals call the mountain where your property is. You can tell how long someone's been here by what they call the mountain, Big Bear or Wolf, though there hasn't been a wolf seen up there in a coon's age," Agnes explained.

"Those city-folks put them big cabin houses where there used to be some fine woods of trees," Abner continued. "Ruined a lot of good forests making their muddy driveways, too."

"It's their land, Dad," Agnes reminded him.

He sneered, opened the door to the belly, and emptied the contents of his pipe into the burning ashes and logs. "Don't mean they can come in here and put up their No Hunting signs like they've always owned the places. Damn interlopers, I say, and bah to them!" He refilled his pipe and clamped his teeth tight on the mouth.

"That attitude is why I'm running the place," Agnes reminded him. He merely turned away and crossed his arms over his chest. She rolled her eyes and turned back to me. "Though speaking of land, what do you plan on doing with the Johnson place?"

I shrugged. "Probably leave it like it is. I was here fifteen years ago with my folks and thought it was perfect then."

Agnes paused and gave me another look-over. "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't, but it's Christina Monet," I told her.

Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. "My gosh, are you that little girl that came here for those few weeks and named the pond up there Froggy Pond?"

I blushed and wished I could shrink into my clothes. "That would be me," I reluctantly confirmed.

Agnes slapped the counter and let out a guffaw. "I remember when you were knee-high to me, and now look at you! A pretty young woman and come back to take that pretty place for your own!" She turned to her father who had an eyebrow raised and gave me with the same careful gaze. "You remember her, dad, the young girl who you practically gave all our candy to."

His mouth slip into a wide grin and he nodded. "Yep, she was a sneaky one with them big brown eyes. Is that how you wrestled the property from old Johnson?"

I laughed. "No, but he was pretty glad to hear it was going to someone who liked it just the way it was. I think that's why he sold it to me."

"Well, you might want to do some changes to the house. It could use a little fixing last I saw it a few years ago," Agnes advised me.

I cringed. "That bad?"

She laughed and waved off my concerns. "Not so bad you can't live in it, but the roof is a little leaky and the place could use a woman's touch. Johnson mostly used it as a hunting lodge so it didn't get many women up there."

I turned around at the aisles of stuff. There was a full aisle of cleaning supplies. "So you're saying I need to buy all your cleaning supplies?" I teased.

"At least the basics, and maybe you need to find yourself a handyman for the roof. I know a good one around where you live," she added.

I looked back to her and shook my head. "I'm going to try to do as much as I can on my own and go from there. Otherwise how am I going to learn?"

"You're going to learn the hard way doing that," Agnes scolded me. "That is, unless you're one of the few young folks around who know how to fix up places. Swappers, or whatever they call them. You do stuff like that?"

"No, my line is more in the bullshit variety," I admitted.

She snorted. "You'll find plenty to do with that. Lots of folks still farm around here and there's a lot of selling and buying going on. Of course, there's always the trading of bullshit, but Dad's the one who would know more about that than me."

"You just don't know what's interesting," Abner argued.

"But anyway, if you need a handyman, I know where to find you one," Agnes continued.

I smiled. "If I find it's too much then I'll go see your handyman. Deal?"

Agnes leaned away from me and shook her head. "All right, but it's going to be tough. You'll need all the luck and all the supplies I have here, and then some because I don't carry any boards."

"Then I'll take all the nails you've got and a hammer, and start from there," I told her.

Agnes nodded at an aisle behind me. "Aisle Three, and you got enough food to last you a few weeks?" she asked me.

"Only about three days. I was going to buy more when I got closer to the house," I replied as I wandered to the hardware aisle.

She clacked her tongue. "You'll need at least two weeks. The power goes out up there at least once a year."

Abner chuckled. "And no amount of complaining from them fancy new folks has stopped the trees from falling on them lines."

"Dad, why don't you behave and go get a few boxes from the back for Miss Monet? She's going to need a lot of food," Agnes ordered him.

He stood and bowed his head, but the grin didn't slip from his face. "I'll be back in a jiffy," he promised, and tottered off around the counter and through the door behind the register.

Agnes stepped around the counter and joined me one aisle down in the foodstuff. There was the clank of cans as she took them off the shelf and set them on the ground. I hoped she didn't expect me to buy out the store on my little cash. "I hope you don't mind what Dad's been saying about the new folks," she spoke up.

"No. To be honest, I was kind of glad so little had changed along the highway," I admitted.

"And to be fair not much has changed on the mountain, but Dad doesn't like it that some of those houses stand on the best hunting ground and the owners won't allow anyone to even drive down their driveways without being invited," she explained.

"Well, you two are invited to Froggy Pond whenever you want, no appointment needed," I told her.

"You know, Froggy Pond wouldn't be a bad name for the new place. It's a sight more accurate than some of the other names for those driveways," she mused.

I paused in my nail-gathering and glanced over the shelving at her. "What are those?"

She smiled. "Oh, the usual. Grizzly Falls without a water or grizzly, or Fish Lake when it has neither. Those sorts of names."

I laughed. "Then maybe I should name it Froggy Lake."

She stood and playfully glared at me. "Don't you dare, Miss Monet."

"You can call me Chrissy, and I won't dare," I promised her.

Agnes gave a nod and a grin. "Good. Now let's get you packed and ready for your new home."

Abner returned from the back room with cardboard boxes, and we loaded them full of the nails, food, and my new hammer. Agnes rang me up, the price was right, and in a half hour I was back on the road with my two new friends receding in my rear-view mirror. The mountain and my new future lay ahead of me.

# 3

The state highway ended three hundred yards behind the general store, and my little car bumped onto a well-used gravel-and-dirt road. The green, open meadows slipped and morphed into a thick forest of tall, old pines and firs. The trees stood like tall soldiers protecting the secrets of the prickly brush and animals that made small trails through the undergrowth. They cast their shadows over the road and at times created a tunnel effect where all but the slimmest of sky lit up the road above me, but everywhere else was the thick, overreaching branches of the trees.

The road inclined and curved like a snake in front of me. There were no sudden drop-offs on either side, but there was the occasional gully created by a small culvert or natural spring with its ten-foot drop. Tall enough to ruin my day if I went over, but not likely to kill me. There was a little bit of washboard on the road and for most of the corners you couldn't see what was around the bend. I slowed my speed to a hare faster than a tortoise and kept the car to the extreme right side. Unfortunately, the road didn't widen with my efforts. Actually, it shrank to the width of a car and a half, or a large truck.

Doubly unfortunately, I heard a large truck careen down the mountain just on the other side of the oncoming corner and there happened to be a driveway to my left. Judging by the crunch of its wheels it was big and I was small, and I'd end up looking like the bottom of a box of Captain Crunch cereal.

I stepped on the gas and crept into the driveway just as the truck bumped and ground past me. It was a large four-wheel drive truck with shiny red paint and a kid at the wheel barely able to shave, much less drive. He didn't look at me at all, but kept driving down the road and disappeared after a second.

I leaned on the wheel and set my head in my hand. My fingers trembled so bad they shook loose my brain. "Easy there, Chrissy. You're still alive," I murmured.

I straightened, took a deep breath, and slowly backed out. The road was clear and in a moment I was back on my way. I kept my eyes peeled for driveways and my ears for more maniacal neighbors out to give me a first and final greeting and farewell. Nothing happened, and my slow driving allowed me to see the houses of some of my neighbors.

Agnes hadn't kidded when she told me the houses took up a lot of the old hunting grounds. They were large, two-floor mansions with full basements and double-door garages. Lawns stretched out over wide, long decks that sometimes wrapped around the house, and sometimes were suspended ten feet above the ground. Pool water shimmered in the mid-afternoon sun and sprinklers watered the thick, luscious green lawns that would have put Martha Stewart to shame. Here and there were parked Ferrari's, side-by-sides, long, pointy speed boats, and even RVs. In the middle of the woods. Yeah, I know, I don't get it, either.

The farther upward I drove the fewer were the houses and driveways. Eventually the road flattened and turned a little muddy. The trees thinned and the area widened and straightened into a long corridor of natural grass and wildflowers. Potholes were now the norm and I dodged and bumped through them for another hundred yards on the straight road before I saw an old metal cattle gate, originally green but now brown from all the color rusted off. This was it. I'd reached my new home.

I parked the car a foot in front of the gate, got out and went over to the heavy lock on one side. With my trusty key the lock was vanquished and I opened the gate, or tried to. The gate swung out towards my car. I sighed, closed the gate, backed my car up, and tried it again. The gate swung out and my way was opened. I opted to lock the lock to the gate and leave the gate open. There wasn't another driveway within two miles and nobody knew I was there.

I walked back to my car and at the door I heard a snap. I froze and my eyes flitted about the area. Nothing came to sight, but plenty of images came to mind. Lots of possibilities of bears, cougars, and maybe even an escaped circus lion. I listened for another terrifying crack of a branch, but there was nothing but the sound of-wait, there wasn't even the sound of birds chirping. The area was completely devoid of the beautiful songs of birds and the scampering of squirrels. It was almost as though the gate was a vortex into a lifeless patch of the world.

I had entered the Twilight Zone.

Then I remembered I was just plain old me in a plain old place, and plain old me needed to stop her stupid thoughts and get going before the sun set. There was about two hours left, give or take a tree or mountain top getting in the way of the last rays of light. I hopped into my car and bumped my way down the two ruts that made up the road. The trees crept closer again, and on either side of me was lush vegetation that grew from the marshy ground. Come spring mosquitoes were going to be a problem.

I drove fifty more yards and the road turned to the right. The way opened to a small, familiar meadow, and in front of me stood my own little, one-story cabin-house. The roughly-hewn clapboard siding was darkened with age, and the building had a single peaked roof made with metal sheeting. The foundation was made of cinder blocks, but there was new evidence of concrete to shore up the most cracked of the blocks. There was a small, covered porch with a railing that was reached from the front by five stairs. The front door was a sturdy piece of fir, and a pair of large, rectangular windows sat on either side of it and looked out on the road.

The road made a loop in front of the house and returned back the way it came. I parked the car and stepped out. It was much the same as I remembered, minus a few chips in the siding and the strained foundation. I glanced behind me at the spot opposite the cabin across the turnaround and saw Froggy Pond. It was a small pond three feet at its deepest and with a gurgling spring on its right bank that fed it year-around. On the left the gurgling spring left the pond and resumed its journey down the mountain. The constant flow meant the water was clean, and I looked forward to swimming in it.

I chill autumn wind swept past me and reminded me now wasn't the time for a bathing suit and sun tanning. There was also the eerie silence of the woods, and I hadn't seen any birds or tree-climbing rodents on my way down the driveway. I grabbed a box of food and hurried up to the cabin. The door was locked, but not for long. I swung open the portal and peeked inside. The front of the cabin-house was the living room on the left and the dining room and kitchen in front and on the right. There was also a large fireplace in the living room on the left wall, and a stone mantel over that. The far back of the house was closed off for the bedroom and bathroom. The floor was made of unfinished wood, the windows were single-pane, and one look at the ceiling told me there'd been some water damage in the near-past.

I noticed two switches beside me, touched my finger to one of them, and prayed. My finger flipped the switch and the dingy bulb on the porch lit up. Wrong switch. I tried the other and it flicked on the living room light. The decor of the house was second-hand furniture with early-pre-century hunting memorabilia on the wall. Bear and cougar heads glared back at me, and the deer looked frightened. I stuck my tongue at them, marched into the kitchen and plopped down the box. One down, a half dozen to go.

# 4

I walked back outside and had one foot on the top step when I heard the soft turn of wheels on the rutted road. A slick red corvette appeared down the driveway and stopped just behind my car. At the wheel was a man in a thick white sweater and dark sunglasses. He had jet-black hair that was too dark to be anything but dyed, and he looked about fifty-five, but wanted people to believe he was forty. His passenger was a woman the same fake age in a white dress that worked as well in the woods as army gear at a dance studio. They stepped out and the woman showed off her matching high-heels. In her hand was a matching white purse in which she stuffed her own black sunglasses.

She flashed me a smile so white I was nearly blinded by the light shining off those pearly teeth. "Hello there. We saw you pass by and thought we'd see if someone had finally managed to wring this lovely pond land from that old man."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean Mr. Johnson?" I guessed.

She waved her hand. "Yes, that man. Wasn't he atrocious? We read in the paper that he had put the land for sale, but he flatly refused to hear our offer."

The man walked around the car, put a hand on the woman's shoulder, and smiled at me. His smile wasn't so blinding. "You must excuse my wife. She's still disappointed we couldn't enlarge our property. You see, we own the lower parcel and had hoped to join the lots," he explained. He walked up to me and held out his hand. "The name is Vandersnoot. I'm Mark, and this is my wife, Clara."

I took his hand and gave it a shake. "Christina Monet," I replied.

"What a lovely name!" Clara commented. She walked up, pushed aside her husband with her thin, pointy hips, and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure we'll be wonderful friends and neighbors. Unless, of course, you wish to sell us this beautiful land." She released me and swept her hand over Froggy Pond. "It's the source of most of the water for our lawn and well, and we so hoped to be able to funnel it through that nasty swamp and into our cistern."

"I don't think I'm ready to sell yet," I told her. Maybe in forty or fifty years.

Clara sighed and shrugged. "Oh well, you can't blame a woman for trying."

Mark stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his lovely wife's thin waist. "We aren't really here to make you an offer for the land. Why we really followed you was to offer you the usual greeting for a new neighbor, the Welcome Party at our house."

I cringed. More time spent in Clara's company was time I could never get back. "I don't know. I have all this unpacking and cleaning and-"

Clara laughed and waved away my concerns with her slender, well-manicured fingers. "Oh, we don't expect you to come down today. We need time to plan ourselves, but everything should be ready in three days."

"I really appreciate the gesture, but-"

"I won't take 'but' or 'no' for an answer, will we, Mark?" Clara insisted.

He smiled and shrugged. "If Miss Monet is busy we shouldn't-"

Clara scowled at him. "Now don't go ruining my fun. It's so dull around here that getting together with the neighbors is the only excitement I have."

"What about the trails?" I suggested.

Clara turned to me with wide eyes and a slightly ajar mouth. "Whatever for?"

I shrugged. "For walking and exploring?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh no, not that. Far too many bugs and wild animals."

"She might be right about the wild animals," Mark spoke up. "I don't know if you've heard, but we've had some trouble with black bears rummaging through our garbage cans. Sometimes they try to get inside, but our alarm system scares them off."

Clara wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. "Oh, those awful things! It almost wants to make you move back to the city." Her eyes flickered to her husband, who merely laughed and shook his head.

"Almost, but not quite," he replied.

Her shoulders dropped and her arms dropped to her sides. She glared at him before turning a smile on me. "Well, to forget those nasty bears we have parties, and we'll have your Welcome party in three days because I am parched for some excitement. Say you'll come and we'll hurry off."

How could I refuse that offer? "Sure, sounds great." I should have been an actress, or a conman.

Clara clapped her hands together and nearly hopped out of her husband's grasp. "Wonderful! Our house is the first one down the hill, and dinner starts at six-thirty. Wear your best clothes, no jeans, and don't worry about the food and drinks. We'll get everything ready and have everyone just dying to meet you when I tell them what a wonderful person you are."

"I don't know if I want you starting lies about me," I quipped.

Mark barked out a laugh. "Now that's a refreshing sense of humor. Very honest."

Clara's eyes flickered between Mark and me, and I sensed a large green-eyed monster in their depths. "Well, we must be going. We have so many invitations to send out and a catering company to get a hold of." She grabbed Mark and pulled him back to the car.

He smiled at her and waved at me. "Be seeing you!"

I smiled in return and gave them my best princess wave. The strange pair slipped into the car and drove off. I was both relieved and nervous to see them go. Clara tried my patience like the worst editor, but at least her loud voice shut out the quiet that still engulfed my small grove. I grabbed another box from my car and hurried into the house.

My wish for noise was granted when I heard the first cardboard box on the kitchen counter shake. I paused halfway across the floor and raised an eyebrow at the animated inanimate object. The box shook again, and from the open flaps popped out the head of a squirrel. In its mouth was a cracker.

"Hey!" I yelled at it.

The squirrel squeaked and jumped from the box. I tossed my armful onto the couch and chased after the furry fiend. It clung onto the unfinished wood of the cupboards and climbed to the ceiling. In the far corner of the kitchen was a small, dark hole, and the fiend fled into its sanctuary. I climbed onto the counter and glared at the hole six inches from my face. It looked like an entrance to the small attic between the ceiling and the point of the roof. I heard the squirrel's claws scramble across the beams and to the far end of the house. The noise stopped, and I heard the faint sound of chewing. The damn thing was mocking me by eating my cracker.

I grabbed a towel used to pad one of the cardboard boxes and stuffed the hole. That would solve another unexpected burglary, but I suspected the evil creature had gotten into the attic through a hole somewhere in the roof. I kept my eyes on the towel and unpacked the rest of my things. The cupboards were bare of everything except a really old looking can of beans. I'd save that for an unruly guest, if I ever had any guests.

My clothes I plopped onto an old, squeaky bed in the bedroom, and I found the bathroom was in need of a woman's touch, or a demolition. Since I was short on demolition money and high on a woman's touch I opted to clean the thing. That was how I spent most of what remained of my first afternoon because there was no way I was going to sit down on a toilet that started out black and ended up the usual white porcelain.

I was relieved physically and emotionally when I finished the scouring and scrubbing. It was four o'clock, and the sun was low in the sky. The shadows outside lengthened, and I made sure every bulb and light switch in the house worked. The squirrels hadn't decided the electrical was a good last supper and everything worked as it should. After being so long in a bathroom, however, I felt cooped up in the small house and opted for a short walk before mother nature shut off her daylight.

I wrapped myself in a warm coat and stepped out on the porch. The air had a hint of the chill of night, but the woods were more alive now than earlier in the afternoon. Birds chirped in the branches, and here and there a chipmunk scurried along tree trunk and limb in their search for food. I couldn't figure it out except that maybe a union strike had ended and everyone was back on the job. Whatever had made the animals come back to the woods, I was grateful for the company as I stepped off the porch and looked around.

There was the pond ahead of me, but my eyes caught sight of a familiar trail to my right. If my memory served me that led to another clearing like mine, but rather than a house there was a small wood cabin. Settlers had built it two hundred years before, but when I had visited with my folks the place was deserted by all but the forest creatures. The trees had grown up all around it and nestled their branches against its walls and atop its roof. I'd scampered through the door in search of treasures and found a few broken bits of pottery and a fork. I kept and treasured those all these years, and now they lay in one of my boxes awaiting unpacking. They were to be placed in the spot of honor on the mantel.

My heart leapt when I thought of what other treasures I could find in that bare cabin and proudly display on my mantel. I didn't have any friends to show off the things, but it would still be neat to search and dig up lost treasures. I hurried down the path with my thoughts full of hidden teacups and pitchers.

# 5

The path itself was surprisingly well-used, and I guessed the hunters and their prey traveled along the trail regularly. No branches tapped my head, and no brush brushed against my coat sleeves as I walked onward. The trail wound its way up a slight incline, and the trees off the path were so thick that I quickly lost sight of my cabin. Onward and upward I went as the day threatened to turn into night. I'd forgotten how far the old settler's cabin was from mine, and after a half hour and no clearing in sight I paused to assess the situation.

The air was thinner up there, and I doubled over and gasped for the precious life-gas. As I stood there gasping my eyes caught on something stuck to a nearby bush. I grasped the tan, soft object and held it up to the dwindling light. It was a clump of fur like a dog's, but as soft as a down pillow. It could have come off the dog of a hunter, but the fur had been trapped on was three feet above the ground. The dog must have jumped at something to get its fur stuck that high.

There came a faint thwack as metal met wood. I pocketed the fur in my coat jacket and whipped my head from left to right. Nothing on the sides. The noise echoed through the trees again, and I realized it was ahead of me. I tiptoed forward and just around the bend was the meadow I'd been dreaming about with its quaint settler cabin.

Unfortunately, my dreams were dashed when I saw that the area had been cleared of all its trees thirty yards from the cabin. The culprit of this atrocity to my childhood memories was a handsome man of thirty who stood near the path. He wore a thick woolen shirt, boots, and dirty jeans, and his unruly brown hair was short and matched his eyes. Everything would have been perfect but for his long hair and unruly beard. In his hands was the tell-tale ax, and in front of him stood a tree a foot thick, but with a chewed triangle at the base of the trunk where his ax had bitten into its flesh.

At the sight of such carnage my heart sank. My childish dreams were shattered, and all because of this handsome man. This stranger could have been an angel, a god, or other celestial-beings-that-he-was-not. I grudgingly admitted that he was nearly all of those things, but because he had shattered my childhood memories he needed to die. Or have a talking to because I was pretty sure some of this damage was my property.

I balled my hands into fists and marched up to the ax-wielding fiend. Then I remembered he was an ax-wielding fiend and stopped my march five yards from him. "What do you think you're doing here?" I growled.

He paused in his destruction, shouldered the ax and smiled at me. I swear his teeth shimmered like in those toothpaste commercials. "People generally call this tool an ax, and I use it to clear the land around my cabin," he told me.

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. "You're cabin?" I repeated.

"Well, that's what the deed says," he replied.

"Well, I have a deed that says this cabin is on my property," I insisted.

The man leaned his ax against the half-cut tree and clapped his hands together. He offered one of them to me. "You must be the other owner of the Johnson property. My name's Adam Smith. A pleasure to meet you."

I ignored his hand. "What do you mean 'other owner?'"

Smith dropped his hand, but not his smile. "Mr. Johnson's land had two parcels. I wanted this one, and he sold the other to you," he explained.

"How do I know you're not just a squatter trying to lay claim to my cabin?" I questioned him.

"If I had a phone I could call up Mr. Johnson, but since reception isn't that great up here I'll go get my deed." He turned away and strode into the cabin. My eyes flickered between the ax and where the man had gone. I pondered running away with his weapon and calling the cops, but he reappeared. In his hand was a folded slip of paper, and he walked over and held the paper out to me. "Here's my proof."

I snatched the paper from him and unfolded it. The slip turned out to be a deed exactly like the one I owned that was safely tucked in an unpacked box. There was Mr. Johnson's shaky signature beside one that read 'Adam Smith.' He had an incredibly epic John Hancock, what with its long scrawls and smooth lines. I cursed him a thousand times for having proof of ownership, and another thousand for his beautiful handwriting.

"I guess you're telling the truth," I mumbled as I handed the deed back.

He pocketed the deed and held out my hand. "So can we start over on the right foot?"

I tucked my arms into one another. "I'm left-footed, so no," I shot back. His eternal optimism never wavered. He snatched one of my hands from my arm and gave it a hearty shake. "Hey!" I yelped. I jumped back and clutched my injured fingers. He had a hell of a grip. "That's assault, you know!"

He laughed and shook his head. "I didn't, so I'll have to plead ignorance of the law."

His laughter was almost infectious, but I kept my lips pursed. "Well, it is, so don't do it again!"

"Why don't we discuss these latest nuances of the law in my cabin?" He gestured to the old settler's cabin, and I had to admit he'd fixed it up without ruining the natural aesthetic. The logs had new gray chink between them, and the original door stood once more on shiny new hinges. A stovepipe stuck out the roof and a puff of smoke sailed into the sky.

I turned away back toward the path. "I just remembered I have an important appointment." Probably with a squirrel gorging himself on my food. I hurried down the path angry and disappointed. Never a good combination for a tired and hungry woman.

"Can I at least have your name?" he called out, but I ignored him and kept on my way.

I know what you're thinking, that he didn't deserve the treatment I gave him and how I was a terrible person. Well, after careful consideration I think you're right, but at that time I was a woman disappointed and careful consideration was a long time in coming. I marched down that path and rammed my foot down one at a time. My hands were jammed in my coat pockets and I glared at every twig and branch wishing they would wither. My mutterings broke the silence around me.

"Damn him acting like he didn't do anything wrong. How could he go and wreck all those trees!"

I paused and frowned. There was that eerie silence again. I turned around and looked for the cute woodland creatures, but like their noises they were gone. Come to think of it, I hadn't heard any noises in the clearing around Smith's property. Maybe he was the source of the Twilight Zone phenomena, but I couldn't see how that was if we only just met. That is, unless he was stalking me without my knowing.

I clutched the neck of my coat in one hand and my eyes flitted around the silent, dark woods. The sun had only thirty minutes to live, and I hoped I had longer. I glanced behind me at the corner around which was Adam Smith, alias Aspiring-ax-wielding-murderer, but he wasn't in sight. Still, a girl couldn't be too careful and I dashed down the trail. My feet pounded the dirt. My heart pounded my chest. I flew across the ground and covered the thirty-minute distance in under ten.

I broke from the head of the path and stumbled into my clearing. Relief and exhaustion battled for domination, and exhaustion won. I stumbled to my house, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind me. My back slumped against the door, and I flipped on the switch. The porch light turned on. Wrong switch again. I flicked on the other one and the cabin was illuminated with the bare-bulbed light of the incandescent marvels.

I found my towel in the corner ceiling was still in place and my food in the cabinets was untouched. I used my epic cooking skills to microwave a small pizza and gulp it down in a few bites. The sun set and the interior of the cabin grew noticeably colder, somewhere between too-cold and have-my-toes-dropped-off?. I went to work on making a fire in the fireplace, but firemen had nothing to fear from me. Though I had a box of kindling and a stack of dry logs at my disposal, I couldn't start a fire with a coal from hell itself. The paper wouldn't light, the logs wouldn't light. Hell, my lighter wouldn't light. It was out of fuel. I'd have to make a drive down to the general store or I'd freeze off my assets.

Without fire there was nothing to do but put on a warm set of pajamas and dive beneath the thick pile of blankets I stacked on the bed. I snuggled my pillow and dreamed of warm days swimming in my pond or typing out my latest column on my porch.

# 6

My sweet dreams were interrupted at a god-awful hour by the bay of a large dog. I sat up and my bleary eyes refused to open. My first thought was one of my apartment neighbors needed to shut their dog up. Then I opened my eyes and remembered where I was. My new thought was that I needed a gun because I didn't have any neighbors that close and that sure as hell didn't sound like a chihuahua howling at a fire siren.

I flung aside the heavy multitude of covers and tiptoed across the cold, bare floor to the window. It looked out on the left side of the cabin toward the path leading up to Smith's place. I peeked through the panes, realized they were too dirty to see through, and wiped my hand across the glass. That gave me limited visibility, but I could see the dark shapes of trees and brush outside. Nothing stirred, not even crickets. I was trapped in the Silent Zone again.

The air was so cold I could see my breath. It puffed out in small wisps of clouds that drifted past the cleaned pane, and blocked my view for a second. One particularly puffy cloud from my mouth fogged over the pane, and I reached my hand up to clean off my breath. I swiped my hand over the glass and behind my palm, a foot from the window, stood-something. It had soft yellow eyes and a brown snout. Its terrible breath poured over glass and blocked my view.

That was just fine with me. I didn't want to see any more. I screamed and stumbled away from the window. The creature ducked beneath the window and I heard something crash through the brush. I dove into the bed and mummified myself in the thick covers. Suddenly gang wars and high-rises looked better. My teeth chattered from the fear and the cold, but thankfully that was the only noise I heard. My scream must have scared the beast off.

I don't know when I fell asleep, or how I managed to do it sitting up, but I awoke with a start and a crick in my back. The morning sun shone through the dirty window and cast its warm glow on the bed. I could still see my breath, but I threw on some clothes and stepped into the living room with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and ready for the world.

What I wasn't ready for was the mess in the kitchen. The towel in the corner lay atop the cabinets, and half the cabinet doors lay open. Their contents were strewn about the counter tops and shelves. There were torn cereal boxes, cracker boxes, and even my chocolate bar had a nibble on the corner.

That did it. Nobody messed with my chocolate and got away with it, especially when the culprit stared back at me from the counter with its squinty little devilish eyes. The squirrel had a piece of my chocolate bar between its little paws and was in the process of consuming it when I entered. He looked miff at my intrusion. I let out a screech and dove at him. The squirrel let out a high-pitched squeak and dove for its hole. I dove for him and the tips of my fingers brushed against his tail. He had soft fur for a demon from hell.

The squirrel slipped from my grasp and I heard him scuttle across the attic beams. I jammed the towel into its place, did a quick clean of the counters and shelves, and grabbed my purse. If the squirrel wanted war then war he would have, and I would be the victor. First, though, I needed the right ammunition. That meant I needed traps, poison, and a small ladder.

I stepped outside and was calmed by the morning air. There was a chilliness that warned of winter, but the sun stood over the tops of the trees and shined down to warm me. I heard the sounds of birds and squirrels scurry their way to breakfast. Whatever dark cloud hung over the forest was gone.

I got into my car and bounced my way along my driveway and past the gate. It was eight in the morning when I dropped over the hill and glanced down at the Vandersnoot mansion. Someone exited the house, and I wrinkled my nose when I saw it was Mrs. Vandersnoot and not her better half. She clopped her heels on the paved driveway and slid behind the wheel of the corvette. I pressed my foot on the break. There was no way I wanted that vehicle with that driver in front of me. My choice turned out to be the right one as she tore down the driveway and out into the main road. I was close enough her dust cloud drifted over my car and obscured most of my vision.

I drove through the cloud and saw her dust disappear around the next corner. My little car puttered around the bend and I was just in time to witness her harass my current Enemy Number One. Adam Smith walked on the right side of the road with his back turned toward me. He had his arm out and his thumb extended in the universal pick-me-up signal. A backpack lay across his back. Clara in her corvette cruised past him and covered him in dust. He didn't even pause as the thick layer of dust settled on his person, turning his dark coat and jeans to a tan color.

I came up on him and for a moment my foot hovered over the gas pedal and I thought about leaving him in my own dust. Unfortunately, the Good Samaritan inside me told me to stop or she'd never forgive me. Also, I didn't want to look in the mirror and see a clone of Miss Snooty staring back at me.

I pulled the car over and rolled down the passenger window. Smith turned in my direction and his eyebrows shot up. "Need a lift?" I asked him.

Smith's face was covered in dust, but his smile beamed through the dirt. "And a bath. You don't happen to have one of those in your trunk, do you?"

"No, but I have a pond I can throw you into," I offered.

"I'll risk the dust, at least for now, but I'll take the lift." He opened the door and slid in.

I drove the car onward and my eyes flickered to my guest. "Did your car break down?" I asked him.

"I don't have one. I don't even have a driver's license or a driveway," he told me.

"You haven't clear-cut one for yourself?" I wondered.

He chuckled. "No, not yet, and I don't plan on making one. I only cut the trees around my cabin because most of them were dead and ready to topple onto my roof. You might think about thinning some of your own dead."

I raised an eyebrow as we cruised down the long, winding road to the lower valley. "I'll risk it, but if you don't have a car how do you get to town, or even the general store?"

He set his bag on his lap and rubbed one of his shoulders. "I hitchhike when I can, and walk when I can't."

"What do the neighbors think of that?" I wondered.

Smith shrugged. "They probably think I'm a little strange not to have my own car and that I'm squatting on someone's property."

I frowned. "Haven't they talked to you or picked you up?"

The smile didn't slip from his face as he shook his head. "Nope. Most of them probably don't want to get dirt on their leather seats, so I'm a bit of a nobody around here."

"Lucky dog," I mumbled.

"So where are you headed?" he asked me.

"To the general store. I was robbed of some food last night by a persistent and possibly demonic squirrel. I was also thinking about getting some traps to catch it," I told him.

He shook his head. "Don't get traps. Just smoke him out and watch where he escapes. That way you don't kill the creature and you learn where the hole is so you can board it up."

I snorted. "Coming from the one-man deforestation machine."

Smith sighed. "Listen, I know I cut down a lot of trees, but they were dead. You have to clear out the dead to make room for the living."

Unfortunately, his logic was sound even to my stubborn ears. "I guess that makes sense," I mumbled. I glanced over at him and saw the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. "But don't get any ideas that I agree with your way of caring for your land, Mr. Smith."

"Call me Adam. I don't always answer to the name of Smith, and it's a little common a name to be using in the general public," he pointed out.

"And you can call me Miss Monet," I replied.

He grinned. "Miss? No man in your life to open your pickle jars?"

"Or give me my spankings," I added.

He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Shame, but if I recall your first name is Christina, and not Monet. Now, Christina is a little long and my tongue doesn't always obey my commands, so don't mind me if I slur in a couple of 'Chris' and 'Chrissy' names."

"Miss Monet will work just fine," I insisted.

Adam bowed his head. "As you wish, Chrissy." I ground my teeth, but seeing as my car insurance wasn't that great I couldn't side-swipe the passenger side of the vehicle into the nearest tree. "But if we're on the subject of men and their usefulness, might I volunteer myself to help you in your squirrel war? I have some experience with furry rodents and repairs, and I have the old cabin as an example of my work."

I frowned. "I didn't get a good look at the cabin."

"Well, provided it's still where I left it then the cabin still shows I have the experience to help you fix up your house," he insisted.

I snorted. "I'd take a look at it, but I don't have any money to pay you."

Adam furrowed his brow and stroked his beard. "Well, how's your cooking?"

"Edible, but I don't see what cooking has to do with carpentry," I countered.

He smiled and turned his face toward me. "I'll make a deal with you. If your cooking is edible then I will do the work for food, and maybe a few dollars on the side. Deal?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the carpentry. I don't want to contribute to the obesity in the country without knowing if the nails are going to stay put."

Adam laughed. "I won't promise they'll last a hundred years, but they should hold for what's left of your lifetime."

"Yes, but think of the children. What will they do when the whole thing collapses?" I argued.

He grinned. "So you plan on having children?"

I straightened and blushed while my eyes focused on the road and away from the handsome man beside me asking about children. "Well, maybe someday, but not until the cabin's fixed."

"Then I promise to make the nails sturdy for a thousand years for your children," he promised. "So what do you say? Is it a deal?"

I gripped the wheel with both hands. "I won't shake on it right now, but I guess you've got yourself a job."

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Good! Now we just need to get the supplies at the stores and I can start this afternoon."

# 7

We arrived at the general store a few minutes later and both got out. There was no sign of Vandersnoot, so I guessed she didn't normally shop at the vintage store. We strode inside and were met with the smiling face of Agnes. In his usual corner was Abner chewing on his pipe and trying to look majestic in his ancient age.

Agnes leaned on the counter and grinned at us. "I see you've met the handy-man I was telling you about."

Adam laughed and strode forward. "You could say we had an interesting meeting yesterday."

"Well, I hope you two get along seeing as how you're my favorite customers," she added.

"Do any of the other house owners stop here?" I wondered.

Agnes frowned and shook her head. "No, they're a sort who pass by here except in emergencies for caviar because they don't like the atmosphere."

"It's their loss, but we'll be sure to support you single-handedly," Adam promised.

Agnes rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Don't you worry none for us. The folks who've lived around here for ages give us enough business, and the doc has us ordering supplies all the time."

I only half-listened to the conversation because my eyes were distracted by one of the beast heads behind Agnes. I nodded at a wolf head. "Are there any wolves around here?" I asked her.

Agnes followed my finger and shook her head. "Nope, not for a long time, before Dad was born," she told me.

Abner solemnly nodded his head. "Yep. That fellow there was caught by my father, and he swore it was the last one." He turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "Why ya asking?"

I shrugged. "I just thought I heard a wolf howling last night."

"Probably just the wind through those pond reeds," Agnes suggested.

My hand brushed against something in my pocket and I pulled out the clump of fur. "I also found this on the trail between our two properties." I handed the clump over to Agnes, and Abner was curious enough to rise from his chair and peruse the fur.

He scratched his head. "By gum, that's wolf fur all right. You say ya found it near your place?"

"Closer to Mr. Smith's-"

"Adam," Adam reminded me.

I jerked my thumb at Adam. "Closer to his place."

Abner rubbed his chin and squinted his eyes. "Well, I'll be. Maybe they're making a comeback."

"Or maybe the state let them loose without telling us. They did that with the bears and the result is a lot of trouble," Agnes spoke up. She handed back the fur and I tucked it into my pocket. "I'll ask around if anybody's seen anything, but what can I get for you folks?"

"Chrissy here needs some food. She was raided by a squirrel last night," Adam spoke up.

"Sounds like you need yourself a handyman," Agnes teased me.

"We've made a deal to fix that," Adam assured her.

I was disappointed in the turn of the conversation, but I had more delicious matters to attend to. "Not until I see some of your work," I insisted.

He swept his arm against his chest and bowed to me. "I hope to prove myself worthy of your food."

Agnes smiled as her eyes flickered between us. "A trade of food for work? Sounds fair enough. What'll you need to get you started?"

"A couple of boxes of cereal, some bread, and a box of chocolate bars," I told her. It was going to be a long day.

She laughed and grabbed a paper bag. "Well, let's see what I can do for you."

In a few minutes I had my food paid for and tucked away in the paper bags. Agnes shoved the last paper bag on the counter toward me. "There you go, and don't let those squirrels chase you out of that place. It'll be a good home when you get it fixed."

"That's just what we'll try to do after our trip to the hardware store," Adam assured her.

Adam had three bags to my one in his arms as we exited the store. "I can carry some of those," I offered.

He shook his head as he cautiously stepped down the stairs. "No, it's fine. I have great balance, so this is-ah!"

Adam's foot missed a step and he toppled into me. I was pushed into the railing and he against the side of my coat. The railing held up and I glared at him. "You were saying?"

He sheepishly grinned back. "I was saying you have a pair of beautiful eyes."

"Uh-huh, and you're a terrible liar." I pushed him off and hurried down the stairs. If there was going to be another mishap it would be a single-person accident.

"I guess I need a few more years of practice," he teased.

"Uh-huh, like two hundred more years," I quipped as I slid into the car. The groceries were tucked in the back seat and the humans in the front. I started the engine, pulled the car up to the road, and paused. "Where exactly is the hardware store?" I asked him.

He nodded to our right away from the mountain. "That way. It's in the last town you pass through to get to here, Woodsville."

I snorted and pulled onto the highway. "Perfect name."

We drove down the highway to the small town and found the hardware store on the main drag. It was a small building with a lot behind it four times the size of the front building and with open storage shops and lumber ports. Adam led the way into the store and to the counter. At the counter was a man of about Abner's age with gray hair and a thin-lipped smile.

"What can I do for you folks?" he asked us in a gravely voice made possible by cigarettes.

"We need some supplies to fix up a cabin," Adam told him.

The man grabbed a pencil and paper from beneath the counter and slid them toward Adam. "Write down what ya need and we'll see if we have it in stock or need to order it." Adam got to work spending my money and the old man turned his sharp eyes on me. "You Miss Monet?"

I started back. "Yes, but how did you know that?"

"Got a call from the general store about you. Said you had a piece of fur to show me that I might be interested in," he explained. Adam paused in his writing and his eyes flickered up to the old man.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would you be interested in a piece of fur?"

"I've got some hunting dogs, and if it is a wolf I'd be doing you a favor by getting rid of it," he told me.

"I don't know if it is, but-" I reached into my pocket, but my fingers only found the lining of my coat. "What the-?" I pulled my pocket inside-out, but nothing fluttered out except pocket lint. "It was here when we left the general store."

"It was probably bear fur," Adam spoke up as he resumed his spending my money.

I glared at him. "It wasn't bear fur."

Adam smiled. "Do you know what bear fur looks like?"

"I-um, it looks like-well, like bear fur," I replied. The old man across the counter chuckled, and I shot him a glare. "Don't you start on me. I know what I found was wolf fur because I heard it last night. Agnes must have forgotten to tell you that part."

The old man chuckled. "It's not Agnes who's the gossip in that family and called me up, it's Abner. He and I went to school together, whenever we went to school, and were hunting buddies until his arthritis laid him up."

I slapped my hand over my face. "Of course it is," I mumbled.

Adam set down his pencil, and pushed the paper and pencil back to the old man. "What do you have for us, Clemens?"

Clemons picked up the paper and scanned the contents. "Most everything but the roofing. Been a lot of new houses being built and don't have enough left to cover an outhouse, much less what you want here."

I furrowed my brow. "There's nothing wrong with my roofing."

"There will be when I show you where your roommate has been getting inside," Adam insisted.

I frowned and crossed my arms. "There's nothing wrong with my roof."

"Trust me on this," he persisted.

"You prove it to me, and then I'll spend what's left of my fortune on the roofing," I argued.

"Best just go by your girlfriend's demand. She's the one holding the purse and the pants," Clemens spoke up.

My mouth dropped open and I whipped my head to the proprietor. "We are not in a relationship!"

He was so terrified he chuckled. "Could have fooled me, but if you're not buying that stuff now I'll get in an order for ya to pick up later." He nodded to Adam. "Adam here knows what he's talking about for a young kid, and you can't go wrong by following his advice on building things."

My eyes narrowed and flickered to him. "Yes, he does seem to have a solid opinion of his opinion."

Clemens wrote out a slip of paper and slipped it over to me. "But the rest of the stuff we have here, and you'll have to pay for it now."

I glanced at the numbers and groaned. "Does Adam get a contractor discount?" I asked him.

Clemens shook his head. "Nope. It's take it or leave it here. Won't even give a discount to my no-good nephews."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "The Owens boys aren't in jail yet?"

Clemens huffed. "Not yet, but I keep hoping the cops'll find where they're growing that junk and throw 'em in jail for good."

"Junk?" I repeated.

"I suspect they're growing weed. Nobody else in their right mind would smell like they do unless they're trying to cover the smell of something worse," Clemens mused. "I'd tell the cops on them myself, but I don't know where that field of theirs is." His eyes flickered to Adam. "You walk everything with the doc. You seen any signs of them?"

"I've seen signs, but I'd rather stay out of the range of their guns," Adam replied.

Clemens sneered. "I'd take you for more of the adventurous type, but I can see your point. No sense getting yourself killed for nothing." He turned to me. "Now are you taking or leaving?"

I sighed. "I guess I'll take it."

# 8

My pocketbook weighed a lot less when we exited the hardware store, but my car was packed with short boards, plaster and whatnot. We slid into the car and started the drive back. I glanced into my rear view mirror at the items in the back seat. "What exactly are you going do to my home? Embalm it?"

Adam chuckled. "No, but I could if you make a mean steak tartar."

I wrinkled my nose. "Isn't that the stuff with the uncooked meat?"

He shrugged. "I have a weakness for it."

"And salmonella poisoning," I added.

Adam shook his head. "No chance of that. I have a strong constitution."

"Good, that may help you get through some of my dishes. I like spicy foods," I informed him.

"You do, too? What a coincidence," he mused.

I raised an eyebrow. "I know what you're doing."

He feigned innocence, but like I said before he was a terrible liar. "What? I really do like hot stuff."

"You're just saying that because you want to flatter me and get more free food out of me," I argued.

He smiled and sheepishly shrugged. "I don't know about that, but I am looking forward to your cooking."

"You don't know my cooking. Maybe you should be afraid, be very afraid," I warned him.

He laughed. "I'll take my chances. Anyway, your cabin might kill me when I show you where the problems are in your roof."

We drove up the mountain and arrived at my little home. It was an hour before lunch, so we carried the stuff from the car onto the porch and to the kitchen. My towel was still in place, and the thrust I'd given it meant it was likely to stay that way for a while.

Adam tossed his coat on the chair closest to the door, stepped out onto the driveway and glanced up at the right side of the roof. I walked outside to join him, but paused on the porch. The eerie silence had once again fallen over the woods. At least this time I had company, and I strode over to Adam's side.

"You got a ladder?" he asked me.

I slapped my hand over my face. "Oh crap," I replied.

"I'll take that as a 'no' and see if I can get up there from the wilder side. You stay here and if you hear a scream followed by a hard thump-"

"-I'll go get the shovel," I finished.

He winced. "At least make sure I'm dead."

I grinned at him. "I make no promises."

"Well, just stay here and wait for me," he repeated. Adam walked around the cabin and out of sight. I heard grunts and groans, and saw one of the larger trees shake and shiver. In half a minute his head popped up over the single point in the roof. The roof sloped off toward the sides of the house, and he tentatively climbed over the peak and onto my side. He used the bolts in the metal sheets as footholds and carefully shifted downward from bolt row to bolt row until he reached the rear corner of the cabin. He gestured to me. "Let me show you-" He demonstrated rather than showed when his right foot slipped between two loose metal sheets and pushed through the rotten ply-board beneath the roofing.

I raced to the corner and watched him struggle with the metal sheets. I'd never seen anyone so panicked as he was. His calm, funny demeanor was changed to that of an animal caught in a trap. His eyes were wide and he grasped his leg between both his. He gave hard yanks on his foot as though he meant to tear it off. His thrashing only worsened the situation as the metal sheets edged up over his boot and cut into his sock.

"Hold still!" I yelled at him. He didn't seem to hear me over the banging over the metal sheets.

I raced around the back of the house to where I'd seen him climb. There were several trees close to the cabin, but I couldn't see one that I would be able to climb and jump to the roof without having superhuman abilities. However, there was an old generator and a few broken wooden boxes. I stacked those and climbed the precarious ladder to the roof, then hefted myself over the edge. All the while there was the incessant drumming and banging as Adam tried to free himself.

I wasn't scared of heights, but I was scared of gravity. The metal sheeting was slick and I wormed my way up the peak. In a moment I peeked over the edge and saw Adam wrestling with his foot.

I gave him a shaky smile and inched my way over the peak down to him. "It's okay, Adam. Just stop moving and I can help."

I reached him and must have startled him because he suddenly stopped struggling and whipped his head to me. His eyes were wide and feral, and he bared his teeth in a hideous snarl. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth, and his hands were coated with blood from his trapped foot. My eyes widened and I cringed away from his monstrous look. My terror reflected in his large eyes and for a moment I wondered if he would lunge at me.

Adam's face fell and he blinked. The madness in his eyes deserted him, leaving him bloodied and both frightened and ashamed. He clutched his face in one hand and his body shook like a leaf in a tornado. His voice was a choked whisper. "You need to stay away from me."

I frowned and nodded my head at his trapped foot. "Not while you're still trapped. Let's see if I can get that metal off your foot." I slid down beside him and grasped the edge of the closest sheet. "I'm going to lift this and you pull your foot out, okay?" He dropped his hand and nodded. "All right, on three. One, two, three!" I lifted the sheet up as far as I could manage and Adam pulled himself up the incline of the roof. His foot slipped from the hole and out from beneath the other sheet. He was free, but his leg was roughed up. His socks were cut through and blood poured from the thin wounds.

I climbed backwards to sit beside him. I rubbed his shoulder and leaned forward to catch his eye. "You okay?" I asked him.

There was a small, shaky smile on his pale lips, and the color was drained from his face. "I'm fine, and I'm. . .I'm sorry for my behavior. I've had some bad experiences with traps, and I guess the memories made me panic," he apologized.

I smiled back at him. "How about we psychoanalyze your past experiences on my couch? It's not very comfortable, but it beats sitting up here."

Adam chuckled and gave a nod. "That's the best idea I've heard in a very long time."

I glanced down at his injured foot. "You need me to make a ladder or pull you up the roof?" In this case it was the thought that counted because I had no idea how I'd achieve either suggestion.

He shook his head. "It's not as bad as it looks and I'm heavier than I look, so I'll get myself down." He slowly scooted himself up the roof and I followed. We reached the bottom of the opposite side and he admired my stacking job. "You're not a bad climber," he commented.

I shrugged. "Where there's a will there's a way."

"Agreed, but I don't think the will of your stack will hold my weight, so I'll get down the hard way." He squatted at the edge of the roofing.

My eyes widened when I realized he meant to jump. "Don't-" Too late. Adam leapt off the roof and dropped the ten feet to the ground. He landed with a little wobble, but was otherwise fine.

Adam turned back to me and held out his arms. "Jump and I'll catch you," he offered.

"Oh hell no." I turned around and lowered myself foot-first over the edge of the roof. I waved my foot around and found the top of my precarious pile. First I put one foot and then the other on the stack of miscellaneous objects. It felt sturdy until I leaned my full weight down on it.

Something slipped because suddenly I felt myself pulled by gravity toward the ground. I fell backward, shut my eyes, and tensed for a short drop with a hard stop. Instead I was greeted by a pair of strong arms that caught me in their soft hold and pulled me against a warm body. I creaked open one eye and found myself looking into the amused face of Adam. He'd caught me and now held me in his arms against his chest.

I dropped out of his arms, straightened myself, and turned toward my savior. "Thanks. That would have been a bad fall."

He smiled and bowed his head. "It was my pleasure, but don't make it a habit of putting yourself into danger. It's unbecoming of beautiful women."

My cheeks glowed like Rudolph's nose and I waved aside his compliment. "Well, I'll be sure to tell beautiful women that when I see them. Now we should get you inside and take a look at that leg."

Adam shook his head. "It's fine, but your roof isn't and there's going to be-"

I looped my arm through his and tugged him toward the front of the house. "It is not fine. That foot was bleeding like the time I tried to sew a shirt, and it might take as many stitches to stop it."

He grinned. "That's very old-fashioned of you to know how to sew."

I snorted and pulled him inside. He didn't even limp. "If I knew how to sew I wouldn't have bled so much." I pushed him onto the couch and grabbed his leg.

He laughed and tried to pull away. "I'm ticklish there!"

"Then hold still or I'll torture you," I warned. The blood on his sock had dried and flakes of the stuff fell onto the floor. I pulled the sock down and froze. There was nothing there but a bit of dried blood stuck to his short, curly dark leg hair. I brushed aside the blood, but was still unable to find any sign of a wound, especially one large enough to cause that much blood. My mouth was agape as my eyes flickered up to his face. "How'd you do this?" I asked him.

"Do what?" he innocently replied.

I frowned and shook his leg with one hand. "How'd you make the wound disappear?"

He shrugged. "I guess it wasn't as bad as you thought."

I pointed at the sock. "And that?"

"Maybe I carry around packages of ketchup in my sock," he replied. He pulled his leg from my grasp and pulled his pant leg down to hide the spot. "But enough of work and work-related injuries. What's for lunch?"

I crossed my arms and glared up at him. "Nothing until you tell me what's going on."

He picked some of the red stuff from his sock and studied the dry peels. "Well, this is the same color as your roof. The pain must be peeling from the metal sheets and got on my sock. I'm surprised I'm not covered in it."

"I know blood when I see it, and that's blood. See?" I reached out to dip my hand in the flakes, but he grabbed my wrist.

Adam's voice was low and his eyes unwaveringly stared into mine. There was a dark glint in them that made me shudder, but I couldn't look away and his hold on my wrist was unbreakable. "Don't do that." I cringed, and the darkness in his eyes faded. He pulled back and released me. The smile returned to his lips, but it was strained. "You never know what's in that old metal stuff. Just let me get changed and I'll be back to fix that hole. That's probably where the squirrel got in, and it needs to be fixed before the storm tonight." I rubbed my wrist as Adam stood and walked around me to the door. He paused in the doorway and behind him the light of the late-morning sun cast his face in shadow. "Maybe we should cancel this whole food arrangement. If you want I can fix your roof for free and leave."

I stood and shook my head. "A deal's a deal," I insisted.

He bowed his head. "All right, I'll be back in a bit." He turned and left. I couldn't help but notice the sound of the woods return with his absence.

# 9

I stepped closer to the door and set my hand on the back of the chair. My fingers came into contact with a leathery material, and I glanced down and saw it was his coat. In our little argument he'd forgotten to take it. I inspected the old thing and my eyes fell on one of the pockets. Something stuck out. I pinched the material between my fingers and drew it out.

It was my missing clump of hair.

My investigative instincts took hold as I tried to comprehend how the clump got into his pocket. The first idea was that somehow it had fallen into his pocket and lain there unbeknownst to him. That idea was thrown out as quickly as it came. He was strange, but not that oblivious to what was in his pockets. Besides, I couldn't believe it somehow slipped from my small pocket to his small pocket. No, he'd swiped it, but why? Again with the questions, and a few answers. Maybe he was hiding a wolf, or maybe he was playing wolf.

Maybe I needed to stop guessing and just ask him. I mean, what was he going to do, kill me? It's not like he was a man with an angry streak who went crazy and frothed at the mouth. . .at the. . .slightest. . .incident. Oh, crap. Maybe I was dealing with someone who aimed to put me in his ax-sights. Well, whatever he planned I wouldn't let him get away with it, and I had just the plan. I strode into the kitchen and removed the old can of beans from the cupboard. I might have died in the execution of this diabolical plan, but those were sure to give anybody indigestion for a week. That would give me time to figure out his mental state. With my plan at the ready I waited for his return.

He didn't show. I waited the rest of the morning and all afternoon, and he didn't come back. I figured he'd at least come to retrieve his coat and then I could confront him about the fur, but there was no sign of him.

Near sunset dark clouds blotted out what remained of the sun and I smelled rain in the air. I made sure all the wood supplies were under the porch and watched the first few tears of rain as they dropped from the sky. They pattered against the metal roofing and calmed my tense nerves. The drumbeat quickened as more rain fell. The drops changed to sleet. A sweet smell of water wafted over me and drenched me in their refreshing scent. I took a deep breath and screamed.

On the other side of my car was the largest black bear I'd ever seen. It was nearly as large as a grizzly bear and let out a roar that echoed around my small field. The creature loped toward me at a speed I wouldn't have given it credit for having. I turned and ran for the open door, but my foot caught on the piles of boards. The trip toppled me to the ground, and I rolled over onto my rear. The paws of the bear slammed the ground as it barreled towards me. It opened its mouth and let out another hideous roar that rattled me from head to toe. I raised my arms over my face and prayed for a miracle.

Some deity heard my internal screams because I heard a shout from the path that led up to Adam's property. I lowered my arms and saw Adam burst from the path and onto the slick mud field that had once been my front yard. The rain beat down on his shirt and pants, and he glistened in the porch light.

"Chrissy!" he shouted.

His shouting alerted the bear to competition. It stopped at the edge of the porch and snarled at Adam. Adam curled his lips back and he let loose a growl that made my blood run cold. It was the sound of a wild animal. My blood stopped running when, in the dim light of the porch, I saw Adam's shirt split open. His bare, muscular chest was now a mess of long, soft fur. He held his hands out with fingers sprayed, and the fingers lengthened into long talons ending in sharp points. His face elongated into a snout, and ears sprouted atop his head. There was a tearing sound as his shoes burst open and revealed long, arched wolf feet. He was more wolf than man.

The bear watched the changes with fangs bared. It backed up and lowered its head when Adam tilted his head back and let loose a haunting, echoing howl. That was the noise I'd heard outside my window last night. The bear growled at Adam, but figured he wasn't worth the fight and turned his attention back on me. I was still a tasty human treat and sat within two yards of it. The beast lunged at me with its teeth open to bite the life out of me.

The sharp fangs clamped down on my traitorous foot. The fire of pain swept up my leg and I screamed in agony. Adam roared and leapt across the ten-yard gap between the bear and himself. He landed on the rear of the bear just off the porch. The shock of the collision loosened the teeth of the bear, but when the pair rolled away from me I was dragged a yard with them before the bear released its hold on my leg. My blood ran down the porch as they tumbled down the muddy driveway. Fur, fists, claws and teeth flew, clamped and bit as they grappled in paw-to-paw combat.

I crawled to the edge of the porch and ignored the torrential downpour on my head as my eyes remained glued to the fight. Mud flew in all directions as they each tried to get a grip on the slippery ground. The storm of wind and rain raged around them in perfect harmony.

The rhythm was broken when Adam managed to slip his way beneath the bear and lift the beast over his head. The bear clawed at the air and bawled like a baby. Adam flung the bear over my car and the beast landed near the pond. It picked itself up and turned short, fuzzy tail toward the woods. It ran off, and the last I heard it was still bawling for its mother.

Adam turned to me and his eyes glowed yellow in the dark. I gasped and grasped the porch post near at hand. My intention was to run into the house, but my leg buckled beneath me. The wet, slippery post slipped from my grasp and I toppled face-first to the ground. I looked up and saw Adam march toward me. My eyes fell on the car. It was unlocked, but I could hide in there. I clutched my bleeding leg and half-hopped, half-crawled toward the car.

Adam sprinted forward and blocked my path. I looked up into his furry face and my mouth dropped open as he reverted back to his human form. The fur melted back into his body and his muscles shrank. His feet dropped a half-dozen shoe sizes and in a moment he was human, at least in form.

He knelt in front of me and studied me. "Are you all right?"

I scuttled back and held up two fingers to make a cross. "S-stay back!"

He smiled. "That works on vampires," he reminded me.

I didn't drop my only defense, even if it didn't work. "Then pretend your a vampire and stay back!" I insisted.

Adam stepped a little closer, and I was loathe to move back because I'd have to drop my fingers. He held out his hand. "I know we've had our differences, but I want you to trust me. I won't hurt you."

I scowled at him. "Maybe you just want to tenderize me," I countered.

He smiled. "If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have killed you already?"

"I don't know. You're the devious wolf mastermind here. Maybe you're saving me for dessert after you've had some of the neighbors, or maybe you're all hungry from that fight with the bear," I quipped.

He sighed and dropped his hand. His arm lay across his bent knee and his glowing eyes stared into mine. "Christina, I swear on all the companionship we've had together that I will not harm you."

I opened my mouth for some witty comment, but realized that was probably the deepest, most binding promise he could make between two near-strangers. What was his word to me? Not much since I didn't know him that well, and less since I now knew he was a monster. The only thing we had to bind us was our shared time together.

I scrutinized his face and didn't see any signs of homicidal intent. Then again, I hadn't been around that many-um, things. "If you want me to trust you than you're going to have to answer some questions," I told him.

He smiled. "Shoot."

"What are you?" I questioned him.

His smile faltered. "That would take a while to explain."

I glanced between his feet and the paw prints in the mud behind him. "You were attacked by a werewolf and are now cursed to roam the world as one."

He chuckled. "That easy to guess?"

I snorted. "Someone who can change into a wolf-thingy and back into a man? Yeah, not too hard to guess. How'd you get this way?"

"That's why it would take a while to explain."

"I've got time."

"Yes, and you've got your clothes soaked by the mud and a large gash in your leg. Why don't we get you inside and I'll tell you around a warm, crackling fire?" he suggested.

His picture sounded really nice about then, especially when I shifted atop the mud and cringed when my pants squished deeper into the ground. My hair clung to my head and my leg hurt like hell. "I guess, but any funny stuff and I'll do more than shoot questions at you."

He offered me his hand again and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'll take that chance." I grasped his hand and he pulled me up so fast I tripped over the uneven mud and fell into him. My hands pressed against his chest and my cheeks blushed a crimson red. "Have I ever told you you're a little clumsy?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "No, but don't remind me," I grumbled.

"If I can't remind you then I should carry you." He swept me into his arms and pressed me against his shirt.

"Let me go!" I yelped. I kicked and pushed away from him, but he held me tight.

He also evilly chuckled. "Not until we're safely in the cabin and the worst thing you can trip over is a rug."

# 10

He carried me back to my house and didn't put me down until we reached the couch. I scowled at him, but he turned his back on me and fiddled with the fireplace while my leg burned. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"I've been told my existence is very impossible many times," he commented without turning around.

"Is your being a werewolf some sort of a curse for you being an ass?" I quipped. He paused in his crumpling of newspaper and his shoulders tensed. That's when I realized this was a touchy topic. "I didn't mean it the way it came out."

He shook his head and resumed his work. "It's fine. I also call it a curse, but what I did to deserve it I haven't figured out. Let's just call it fate." He blew on the pile he'd made of newspaper and small sticks, and the fire jumped to life. He turned and walked on his knees back to the couch. "Now let's take a look at that wound. You'll need some bandages and-"

I pulled my wounded leg away from him and narrowed my eyes. "Uh-huh, you promised to answer my question," I reminded him.

He sighed, dropped his hands, and plopped himself on the other end of the couch to give some space between us. I noticed he averted his eyes from me. "How old do you think I am?" he asked me.

I looked him up and down, and shrugged. "Thirty-five?" I guessed.

He chuckled. "Add another two hundred years to that count and you wouldn't be too far off, though it's been so long even I can't recall the exact year."

My eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head. "No. I was born some time in the latter half of the seventeenth century. Maybe I was born the same time as this country, but I can't be sure. I came from a family of well-to-do merchants in Boston. We bought, sold and traded goods from Caribbean all the way to the East Indies. I sometime journeyed on the ships, we had a half dozen in our fleet, and on one of the journeys we happened to land on a deserted island in the Caribbean. At least, we thought it was deserted." He ran a hand through his hair and shuddered.

My face fell and I lowered my voice to a soft whisper. "You don't have to tell me this if it's that tough," I told him.

He sighed and dropped his hand into his lap. "It's almost a relief to tell someone after so long keeping it inside of me. It drops some of the weight of loneliness off my shoulders, if you'll pardon the cliched phrase."

I smiled. "I'll forgive you this one time."

His lips twitched up before they fell back down. "Well, we made camp and set off in groups of two for fresh water and food. Those days the Caribbean was a giant food basket to sailors. There were turtles, fruit trees, and wild pigs, the bounty of a tropical paradise. I and another fellow about my age, I'm afraid I've forgotten his name, we went into the interior in search of a spring. The jungle was strangely devoid of the call of birds and a dread hung over us. Maybe it was our natural instincts warning us, but we were both young lads and didn't heed its call. We found a bubbling spring among some rocks and filled our flasks. Before we were finished the fellow grabbed my sleeve and gave a pull. 'Did you hear that?' he asked me. I told him I hadn't heard anything, but it was probably a wild pig scrounging around. He said it didn't sound like a pig. It sounded like a soft pad of something along the jungle ground. I told him he was being a scared fool, but by this time his words and the atmosphere had spooked me enough I suggested we return to the ship. We had just turned away from the spring when a shadow leapt from the jungle. I jumped out of the way, but slipped on some rocks. The thing dove at my companion and latched its long fangs onto his arm. I fell hard on my side, but turned over at the other man's screaming. In front of me, hunched over my companion, was a giant wolf. It's eyes were a bright yellow, much like mine when I need to see in the dark."

I shuddered at the remembrance of his eye color. "Yeah, I noticed that."

"My companion was still alive, but the creature had every intention of killing him. I grabbed a rock and threw it at its head. It connected just above the brow, and the wolf turned to me and snarled. I scuttled to my feet and raced across the rocks toward the path we'd taken to the spring. The wolf must have thought I was a more worthy challenge and followed after me. I raced through the jungle as fast as I could run, but the creature overtook me. It jumped on my back and pushed me to the ground. My face slammed into the rotting foliage and sand of the island ground, and the wolf buried its fangs into my shoulder." He paused and pulled his shirt over his head. Any other normal time and I would have been thrilled with this circumstance, but on his right shoulder was a large patch of scar tissue. The flesh was a softer pink than any other part of his body, and here and there I detected teeth marks. "Another few inches and it would have tore into my neck veins, but it wanted sport. I jabbed my other arm into his face and it rolled off me. I rolled over and grabbed the pistol from my pocket. It was a weapon of extraordinary make with a silver handle and a sturdy barrel. I pointed the barrel at the beast., and it growled and jumped at me. I fired a shot, but it only seemed to anger the thing. It no longer wanted to toy with me, but kill me. I swung the grip against the creature's face and it was as though I'd placed a scalding slip of metal against its flesh. It burned its fur and skin, and the creature screamed and stumbled back. The scream was more man than wolf, and I still shudder whenever I recall that hideous sound."

"So it was the werewolf that bit you?" I guessed.

He nodded. "Yes. The creature ran back toward the spring, and the sound of my shot brought my companions from the ship. They took me to the ship and scoured the area for both the wolf and my mate, but both were gone. There was only a blood spot near the spring where the wolf had attacked my companion. It didn't take long for the superstitious sailors to speak of a loup garou, and call for the captain to set sail and leave that accursed island. Even he admitted, privately to me and after we had sailed, that there was something not right about that island. We left the island without finding my companion and returned to Boston. The trip took a week and I was delirious with fever the entire time." He chuckled. "My mother nursed me back to health on a diet of bitter roots and peppermint candy. I was well within a week, but a week later I learned the true damage the wolf had done to me."

"A full moon," I whispered.

He turned away and sighed. "Yes, the full moon."

I furrowed my brow. "But it wasn't a full moon tonight. Heck, I couldn't even see any stars with all that rain."

"The loup garou, or werewolf, doesn't need the full moon to change except the first moon after they've been marked by the curse," he explained. "On that first full moon I was making jolly in one of the pubs when the sun set and I felt a fever return. Fearing it was the illness I hurried home, but the moon overtook me. I was in a near-deserted part of the town when I changed, and then I. . .I hunted."

"Like the other loup garou had done," I finished for him.

"Precisely. I awoke the next day covered in blood and with news of a monster prowling the town. I told my father and mother what I had become, but they didn't believe me." He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I could hardly believe it myself. Who would want to believe they were a werewolf? My wish was overcome by my desire to be sure, and during that next month I went about ensuring the safety of everyone in the town by creating a jail of sorts with iron fetters and chains. When the full moon came I sealed myself in this cage of sorts deep in the woods and waited for the curse."

"So you changed and stayed put?" I guessed.

He chuckled and shook his head. "No. I didn't change at all. Nothing happened. I awoke the early next morning in my crude hut with sore wrists and confusion. It was then I decided to put my head to better use and research this beast. My father had an extensive library, a very rare thing in that time, and I found what I sought amongst his books on creatures of folklore. The loup garou was a rare werewolf in that it could change its shape at will, and it was then I realized I could control the beast. I was elated. This wasn't a curse at all. I could change into a wolf, to be sure, but what strength I had! What speed I could achieve in that form! I returned to my hut and willed myself to change. It took great effort and time, but I learned to change myself. I took to exploring the woods and glens in that form, and became acquainted with the fur trade through my keen nose. I expanded my father's trade into furs and the family fortune grew. I married, and no one knew my secret, not even my wife, lovely creature that she was."

"I'm guessing this doesn't have a happily-ever-after end," I mused.

He leaned back and contemplated the crackling fire. The flames cast shadows on his youthful face, but I detected a great age in those lines. "At age fifty I realized I wasn't aging. My wife and family also realized something was wrong. They shunned me, and the town with them. I was sent away, my father said to manage the fur trade in the west, but I knew better. I frightened them. After a year they stopped answering my letters, and one day I decided to travel east to Boston. I found the place greatly expanded and avoided those who knew me. I reached my house and found my wife deep in mourning. I was dead."

I scrutinized his appearance. "You look really good for a dead man," I commented.

He smiled. "Yes, I believe my servants thought the same. They'd been told I was dead, and when I arrived they screamed and ran from the residence. My wife was less surprised. My family and she had agreed to the deceit to hide my unnaturalness. She begged me to leave and never return. We had no children, so at her bidding I left. I traveled westward and became a trapper. I was very good at it and built up a small nest egg. I invested in mining and became nearly as rich as my father." His smile slipped from his lips. "The years passed and one-by-one my family fell to age and illness. I stopped paying attention to them when my mother passed away around 1830. I gathered my wealth, invested the majority, and stuck myself in any hole near civilization that I thought would be safe. More time passed and I found the cabin across the way for sale, and took it. The rest of my life, you know."

# 11

I sat there for a moment in silence, a rare thing for me, and contemplated his story. It was all so fantastic, so ridiculous, and yet so sincere. He believed it, and since I'd seen him as a wolf I really had no other choice. "So you've been alone all these years? You never met anyone else like you?"

He sheepishly grinned at me. "I did give that impression, didn't I? The truth of the matter is I met a few others like myself, and some were my companions for a while and others were-well, not so friendly," he admitted.

The intrepid reporter in me made herself known. "So do you ever get sick?" I wondered.

He stood and shook his head. "No, but I believe that's enough questions for the moment. You need to change your clothes and get a bandage around that wound before the mud festers inside it."

"Do you have super hearing, too?"

He knelt in front of me and gently grasped my wounded, pulsing leg in his hands. "This will need a lot of cleaning."

"How high can you jump?"

"Fortunately the bear didn't get to the bone."

"Have you ever eaten someone?"

"You're fidgeting."

"And you're not answering my questions."

"You need to focus on yourself." He emphasized his words by brushing aside some of the blood over my wound. I winced when a stab of pain shot up my leg.

"How is it, doc?" I asked him.

He pursed his lips together. "You may need antibiotics to repel infection."

"With all your wealth you don't happen to own a pharmaceutical company?" I wondered.

"I have stocks in several, but they don't give free samples to their stock owners. Do you have any bandages and disinfectant?" he asked me.

I nodded toward the bathroom. "In there."

He fetched the needed supplies, and in a few moments he had the leg wrapped tight in clean bandages. His eyes fell on my clothing and I noticed his lips twitched. "You should change out of those clothes or a cold will be the death of you."

I nodded at his own soaked clothes, or what remained of them. "You're not exactly dry, either."

He smirked and folded his arms over his chest. "My immortality not only keeps me from aging, but common diseases don't often-achoo!" He winced and rubbed his nose. "Though perhaps a change of clothes would be the best. Did you need any help getting to your bedroom?"

I swung my legs over the side of the couch and tested my weight on them. There was pain, but it held me. "I think I can manage."

"All right. I'll hurry to my home and back." He stood and strode over to the door, but paused on the threshold and turned back to me. "That is, if you want my company after everything you've learned."

I shrugged, but a teasing smile slipped onto my face. "Well, I could use a good fur coat to keep me warm. This uninsulated house gets pretty cold."

He chuckled. "I'll see what I can do when I get back."

The minute Adam stepped outside my brain started screaming at me. There was a lot of 'what are you thinking?' and 'he's going to eat you!' rushing through my head. "Hush, you," I scolded myself. "If he wanted to eat you he would've done it a while ago. Besides, he has that sad story-"

'That's what he wants you to believe! He probably ate the person who's story that belonged to!'

"His breath isn't bad enough to show he has a lean diet of humans, and I'm a little too fatty to eat," I argued.

'Maybe he likes chewy fat!'

"Will you shut up!" I shouted.

The noise echoed through the cabin and someone cleared their throat. I looked to the front door and saw Adam had returned attired in clean clothes. I'd been arguing with myself longer than I thought, or he was just that fast. Or both. I sheepishly smiled at him. "I was-um-just talking to myself."

Adam closed the door behind him and walked over to the couch. "You seem to have an internal dilemma," he commented.

I nervously snickered. "Yeah. Suddenly your problems don't look so bad, eh?" I teased.

He took a seat in the chair close to the fire. "This argument wouldn't happen to be about me, would it?"

"Um, yes," I admitted.

"And what did you decide?"

"That my brain needs to shut up."

He laughed. It was the first time I'd heard him truly laugh. I liked the sound of his ringing amusement as it bounced off the thin walls of the cabin. "You are a very strange woman. Most humans would have run out of here to the nearest non-werewolf neighbor or gone mad after seeing my transformation, but you sit here having a discussion with your mind and telling it to shut up."

I shrugged. "I guess my mom taught me to listen to my heart and not my brain. I wouldn't have bought this place to begin with if I'd listened to my mind."

He scooted to the end of his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. His unnervingly bright eyes stared unblinkingly at me. "What does your mind tell you about me?"

"It's telling me to run screaming from the house," I told him.

He leaned toward me and smiled. His top canine teeth slipped over his bottom lip and glistened in the firelight. "Maybe you should be frightened of me."

I leaned away and frowned. "If you go back on your word about being dangerous I swear to god I'll find my mother's silver fork heirloom in one of these boxes and tickle you to death with it."

Adam chuckled and moved to the back of his chair. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I don't want you to be frightened of me."

I buried myself deeper into the couch cushions. "So what now? I know you're secret, you know my heirloom secret, so where do we go from here?"

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "There is the bedroom."

I rolled my eyes and slumped in my seat. "Just like a man to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. Anyone, we just met and this human female doesn't put out like a horny werewolf boy."

Adam sighed and leaned back in his seat. He set his elbow on the chair and set his head in his splayed fingers. "That is the biggest conundrum, isn't it? What to do with each other now that we both know what I am."

A devilish grin slid onto my lips. "Well, you could give me the best one-on-one interview ever. It would be the big werewolf reveal," I pointed out.

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I'd demand you file your essay under the fiction category."

I rubbed my chin and furrowed my brow. "You know, that does give me an idea. I've always wanted to write a book. I could write your life story and say it came from my imagination."

Adam lifted his head from his fingers and raised an eyebrow. "My life story as fiction?"

I shrugged. "Life is stranger than fiction, so it'd make a hell of a book, and you did say you wanted to get the story off your chest. Writing a whole book about it would definitely get it off every inch of you."

He chuckled and shrugged. "Why not? I've never tried being a writer. Is it easy?"

"If you know how to b.s.," I told him.

"I'll rely on you finding the necessary manure."

"For a cut of the profits, of course."

"Of course."

"Good, then we have ourselves a deal."

"This doesn't replace our other, more important deal," he reminded me.

I blinked at him. "What deal?"

"The deal to feed me in exchange for repairs. Actually, I may demand you feed me while I tell you the details of my life," he explained.

I snorted. "I think I can live with that if you can live with my cooking." I shifted my weight and winced when my leg complained. "But before we get to writing down your biography there's also my get-out-of-welcome-party-free card here I have to worry about. I'd like to avoid being called Stumpy for the rest of my life."

He chuckled. "You'll be fine, and I'll drive you to the doctor myself tomorrow bright and early."

I cringed. "Not too early. I've had a hell of a night. Learning that loup garous are real really takes it out of a girl."

He stood and moved to stand before me. "Would you like me to carry you to your bedroom?"

I scowled at him. "No, I would-not!" He scooped me into his arms and swept me into my bedroom. With as much grace as a football player carrying an egg he dropped me onto the bouncy mattress.

I sat up and glared at him. "Will you stop that!"

He smiled down at me. "Not until you're well. If you need me I'll be on the couch."

I threw a pillow at him, but he made it to the entrance and it bounced off the door just as he shut it. "And stay out of my bedroom!" I yelled. The evil sound of laughter floated away from the bedroom door.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Damn him for being such a damn babysitter guy," I grumbled.

I went over to my dresser and pulled out my pajamas. As I started to peel off what remained of my carved jeans, my eyes settled on a mirror above the dresser. My reflection stared back at me in all its soaked-white-shirt-is-now-transparent glory. My mouth dropped open and I understood now why he had averted his eyes from my chest. I whipped my head to the closed door. "Why didn't you tell me about my shirt?" I shouted.

"You insisted on hearing my story, now get some rest," he called back.

I yanked my clothes on and stomped over to the bed until my leg reminded me there would be no stomping for a few days. I finished the distance from the dresser to the bed with a limp and lay down for a well-deserved rest. My dreams were filled with pattering rain, howling wolves and gnashing bears. Oh my.
**A note from the flynn**

> Thanks for downloading my book! Your support means a lot to me, and I'm grateful to have the opportunity to entertain you with my stories.
> 
> If you'd like to continue reading the series, or wonder what else I might have up my writer's sleeve, feel free to check out my website, or contact me at mac@macflynn.com.

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# Continue the adventure

Now that you've finished the book, feel free to check out my website for the rest of the exciting series. Here's also a little sneak-peek at the next book:

* * *

**Falling For A Wolf #2:**

> The next morning dawned as only an unwelcome morning could dawn: with the rays of the sun streaming through the window and forcing their way through my eyelids and into my eyes. I creaked open my useless eyelids and sat up. Morning already, and what a wild dream. First I'd been attacked by a bear and then I'd. . .been. . .why was there a bandage around my leg?
> 
> My eyes widened and my dream suddenly turned into reality. I wish it'd been a dream about winning a million dollars, but having werewolves be real was definitely an impressive feat. I flung aside my sheets and limped over to the closed bedroom door. All was quiet beyond the wood, but I pressed my ear against the entrance and listened. Nothing but the soft sound of air through something. I rolled my eyes at Adam's snoring and flung open the door.
> 
> Adam stood on the other side with a tray of food in his hand. I yelped and in my hurried retreat I stumbled over my legs. I crashed onto my rear and heard a noise behind Adam. It was a teakettle getting up to boil. That was the soft sound of air I'd heard before.
> 
> "You are rather clumsy," Adam commented.
> 
> I whipped my head up and glared at him. I was getting good at glaring at him. "And you are rather rude. No knock?"
> 
> "You didn't give me time." He walked past me and set the tray on the foot of the bed. "I wasn't sure how you were feeling, so I prepared some breakfast."
> 
> I stood and limped up beside him to survey the tray. It had sausage, bacon, ham, eggs, and a tall glass of milk. "The werewolf diet?" I guessed.
> 
> He sheepishly smiled and shrugged. "Meat is all I really know how to cook," he admitted.
> 
> "Well, I guess that's a big food group." I plopped myself on the bed beside the tray and slid it onto my lap. Utensils were available, and I dug into the food like an earth mover into a hillside. The food quickly disappeared and I set the tray to the side. "Not bad," I commented as I licked my lips.
> 
> Adam seated himself on the other side of the tray. "What would you say if I poisoned it?" I froze mid-finger licking and felt the color drain from my face. He laughed, took the tray in hand, and stood. "Just kidding."
> 
> "You know, you could make a girl really paranoid," I scolded him.
> 
> He paused at the door and turned. The humor was gone from his face and the sun shone off his autumn eyes. They were like the brown and yellow-colored leaves of fall. "I can't stress enough how dangerous I can be."
> 
> This time he wasn't prepared for the pillow and it hit him in his cute face. The pillow slid to the floor as I wildly cackled my victory. "That's for being melodramatic!" I scolded in glee.
> 
> Gone was the creepy colors in his eyes and back was the smile on his lips. "I don't believe you're taking any of this seriously."
> 
> I wiped the tears from my eyes and shook my head. "Nope. I still have my silver fork up my sleeve and nothing you can say will make me afraid."
> 
> He half-turned from me and a crooked, evil grin slid onto his lips. "Good, then you won't be afraid when I take you in to the doctor."
> 
> My face fell. "Um, I don't think we need to do that. I feel just fine, see?" I waved my injured leg up and down, and winced when my leg told me I didn't know the definition of the word 'fine.'
> 
> He chuckled. "I can see."
> 
> My face fell. "Isn't there some small, defenseless animal you can harass?"
> 
> "You mean other than you?" he teased.
> 
> I snapped my arm up and pointed at the door. "Out."
> 
> He stepped partially back inside. "I didn't-"
> 
> "Out."
> 
> "But-"
> 
> "Out or I get the silver fork."
> 
> "All right, but I'll be back in a few minutes to take you to the doctor," he warned me. He left, shutting the door behind himself.
> 
> I fell back on the bed and lay my uninjured leg carefully on the covers. "I'm not sure which one of us has the worst curse. His with being a werewolf or me with him," I grumbled.
> 
> "Did I forget to mention I have very good hearing?" he called from the kitchen.
> 
> I sat up and stuck my tongue at the door. "Then stop listening!"
> 
> "Your thoughts are very loud," he argued.
> 
> "Then plug your ears!" I jumped off the bed and threw on some clothes. It was a bit of a hassle considering one leg was partially mummified, but I got the job done just as there came a knock on the door.
> 
> "Are you ready?" he asked me. I limped to the entrance and swung open the door. He smiled at me and lifted the key chain for my car and gave it a little jingle. "Your steed awaits, and I, your knight in shining armor, will attend to you."
> 
> I snorted and pushed past him. "You have no idea how annoying you are, do you?"
> 
> "Not often. I do try to avoid people," he reminded me.
> 
> "Sometimes I wish you would have-" I paused when my eyes fell on a thick, whittled staff. It lay across the couch and was about five feet tall when standing on end. I limped over to it and picked it up. The wood was from a knotted branch. Swirls dotted the smooth, shimmering surface, and at the top was a fat, rounded knot. There were bits of gray glitter in the grains of the wood that glimmered in the sunlight. The staff would have made Gandalf proud. I glanced at Adam and held up the staff. "Is this yours?"
> 
> He smiled and shook his head. "No, it's yours."
> 
> I blinked at him. "I don't own a stick."
> 
> "I figured you would need a stick to lean against and last night I whittled that for you," he explained.
> 
> I blushed and held it out to him. "I-I couldn't accept this. It must have taken you all night to get it this beautiful."
> 
> "Yes, but my curse gives me a sort of extra battery so I need very little sleep. Besides, I'm not the one who needs a crux, and if you won't allow me to be your staff then I insist on your using that," he told me.
> 
> I glanced down at the smooth, tan wood and brushed my hand over the surface. There wasn't a sign of even a splinter. I set the tip on the ground, leaned on it, and limped forward. It was as sturdy as a rock, but almost as light as a feather. I turned to him and stuttered out a few words. "I. . .I don't know how to thank you."
> 
> A devilish smile slipped onto his lips and he moved to stand close beside me. "A kiss would be more than adequate."
> 
> My eyes flickered around the room. Nobody to catch us smooching, not even a nosy squirrel. I turned to him, stood on my tiptoes, and pecked a kiss on his cheek. "There. That work?"
> 
> "I was thinking of something more like this." He wrapped me in his arms, swooped down and pressed his lips against mine. His searing body heat pressed against me as his passion swept through my lips and traveled down to the tips of my toes and back up. He released my lips, and I would have stumbled back if he still hadn't held me. "What do you say? A much better thank you?" he asked me.
> 
> "I say you're very demanding," I scolded him.
> 
> He chuckled. "I prefer the term 'bold,' but I will accept the change."
> 
> I leaned away from him and looked him in the eyes. "Why are you bothering me?"
> 
> "Because you won't believe my interactions with you are not bothersome," he replied.
> 
> I rolled my eyes. "No, I meant why _me_? Why not some other poor, helpless human? Why aren't you harassing some of the rich women around here? Just shave that beard and you'd be the most popular eligible bachelor on the mountain."
> 
> Adam leaned down and his words brushed against the skin of my neck. "Because I like your smell."
> 
> My mouth dropped open and I stuttered out my reply. "Smell? Is this what it's all about? What's my scent? Rotisserie chicken or lilacs?"
> 
> Adam chuckled. "Actually, it's more like an autumn evening when a wind brushes through the leaves."
> 
> I furrowed my brow and tilted my head to one side. "Really?"
> 
> "Really," he laughed. His laugh was starting to sound nice to my ears, and that didn't make me happy.
> 
> I pulled myself from his strong, warm, comfortable-I mean, hard, cold, uncomfortable grasp, and stepped away from him. "Listen, I appreciate your being my guardian werewolf, but I can take care of myself." His eyes flickered to my leg, and I slid it behind myself as far as I could without losing balance. "Really."
> 
> His eyes twinkled in mischief, but he shrugged and handed me the car keys. "All right, if you think you can tell Mrs. Vandersnoot that you have to cancel the welcome dinner, then be my guest. However, I feel I must warn you that even if you were dying she wouldn't accept 'no' for an answer. Oh, and the doctor lives in one of the small glens at the bottom of the mountain. It's not easy to find, but since you can take care of yourself I'm sure you'll only miss the turn three or four times. If I were you, though, I'd take a couple of cans of gas just in case you drive into the next county which would be about twenty miles too far."
> 
> I stuck out my jaw and narrowed my eyes. "I hate you, you know that?"
> 
> "I don't believe you mean that," he replied.
> 
> My shoulders drooped and I waved a hand toward the door. "Well, maybe I don't, but lead on, tainted knight."
> 
> He bowed and swept his hands toward the entrance. "After you, fair lady."
> 
> I snorted and limped past him and out into the cool morning air. The birds were singing, the creek was bubbling, and the squirrels were planning the demise of my food. At least, that was the vibe I was getting from their incessant chattering. I shook my fisted hand at the squirrelly squirrels as they hopped from branch to piny branch in front of my home. "Curse you and your plotting!"
> 
> Adam came to stand beside me, and he, too, glanced up into the trees. "You seem to have a hatred for your neighbors."
> 
> I whipped my head to him and glared. "Only the furry kind," I growled.
> 
> He sheepishly smiled and held up his hands in front of him. "I stand corrected."
> 
> At that moment something hit the back of my head. I swung around and rubbed the bruised spot as I snarled at the creatures. I glanced down at my feet and saw that one of the possessed-by-the-devil squirrels had thrown a small pine cone at me. "Damn things. Isn't there some sort of a squirrel-be-gone repellent?"
> 
> A howl echoed through the small meadow, and I turned to find Adam with his head tilted back and his lips puckered. His wolf call silenced all the woodland creatures and caused the squirrels to have somewhere else they needed to be, like in the next county. Adam stopped and smiled at me. "Better?"
> 
> I snorted and studied him with a new sense of admiration. "You seem to be multi-talented."
> 
> "I also wash windows and can balance a checkbook," he added.
> 
> "Well, let's see if you can drive a car first." I tossed him the car keys and he caught them in one hand. Show off.
> 
> "You won't regret it," he promised.
> 
> "Or I won't live to regret it," I countered.
> 
> We slid into our respective seats and Adam bumped us down the road.

# Other series by M. Flynn

**Contemporary Romance**

Being Me

Billionaire Seeking Bride

The Family Business

Loving Places

PALE Series

Trapped In Temptation

**Demon Romance**

Ensnare: The Librarian's Lover

Ensnare: The Passenger's Pleasure

Incubus Among Us

Lovers of Legend

Office Duties

Sensual Sweets

Unnatural Lover

**Dragon Romance**

Blood Dragon

Dragon Bound

Dragon Dusk

Fated Touch

Maiden to the Dragon

**Ghost Romance**

Phantom Touch

**Vampire Romance**

Blood Thief

Blood Treasure

Vampire Dead-tective

Vampire Soul

**Urban Fantasy**

Death Touched

Oracle of Spirits

**Werewolf Romance**

Alpha Blood

Alpha Mated

Beast Billionaire

By My Light

Desired By the Wolf

Falling For A Wolf

Garden of the Wolf

Highland Moon

In the Loup

Luna Proxy

Marked By the Wolf

The Moon and the Stars

Moon Chosen

Moon Lovers

Scent of Scotland: Lord of Moray

Shadow of the Moon

Sweet & Sour

Wolf Lake
