“I hope you can figure out what the hell is wrong with him,” Cleverly huffed. “He’s been pacing around like this for an hour now, and I’ll be damned if I have to get my carpet replaced because he wore a hole in it!”
Ethan snorted softly, edging past her into the living room. “Oh, I love the change,” he said, nodding at the clock over the mantel. “That turquoise enamel really picks up the patina on your new frames.”
Cleverly blushed, of all things. Blushed! “Oh, thank you, Ethan. I have to admit they’re not that new. Homegoods—well, back when it was Garden Ridge Pottery—had them on sale and I loved how they looked all antique! And the clock”—she shot me a purse-lipped glare— “has been there for ages now. It used to belong to my mother. It was just collecting dust in the hall closet, and I thought this room could use some color.”
I stared back and forth between the two of them. “Seriously?” I muttered. “We’re gonna talk decorating right now?”
“We aren’t,” Cleverly pointed out. “Ethan and I were.”
Ethan smirked at me. “Hey.”
“We need to talk.” I glanced past him at Cleverly. “But I can’t leave her here alone.”
Cleverly pursed her pink-painted lips, glaring at us from the step leading down into her den. “Landry Babin, I am a grown-ass woman. I do not need you to protect me like I’m some frail old lady!” She would have stomped her foot if it didn’t detract from her towering indignation.
Ethan caught my elbow and led me to the sofa. “He’ll be fine, Miss Cleverly. He’s just het up from a rough week at work.”
“Excuse me?” I snarled. “I’m not a fu—freaking child, Ethan!” I jerked free from his grasp. How fucking dare he dismiss me like that, treat me like some sulking teenager? I glared at him, opening my mouth to read him the riot act, but Cleverly’s sigh cut me off.
“I thought maybe he’d had a tiff with that young man who was here earlier. You sure it wasn’t a lover’s quarrel, Landry? You know I don’t mind if you entertain here, so long as you’re safe and don’t flush condoms, I really—”
“Wow, okay, yeah, this is… this is awful,” I yelped, shooting to my feet. The flare of hurt and confusion on Ethan’s face was hard to miss, but he schooled his expression into polite amusement quickly enough that my aunt didn’t seem to notice the moment. Was I an asshole for the flare of smug satisfaction at seeing that Ethan still cared enough to be jealous? Maybe. Probably. But I couldn’t make myself drag out some coy fib to make Ethan get all growly and possessive—we didn’t have the time and I definitely lacked the energy and skill. “He wasn’t a boyfriend or a hookup or whatever, and there was absolutely no sex at all, and Ethan, for the love of God, please tell me you have a deputy or someone on hand that can keep an eye on my aunt when I go back to Tuttle!”
“Lan, listen, I’d love to set someone to watch over her for you, but that’s not how the department works. You know that.” He squeezed my arm gently, a frisson of familiar awareness curling through me at the contact. “Come on, let’s take a walk around the yard.” He shook his head when I started to protest. “We’ll be right outside; we can have our talk and keep an eye on the house at the same time.”
Seeing the concern crimping Cleverly’s brow, the way she squeezed her fingers together like she was praying, made me feel more than a little guilty for my outburst. “Let’s go.” Ethan didn’t let go of me as we squeezed past Cleverly and out into the front yard. The smell lingered, so faint it was almost unnoticeable unless I really tried to pick up on it. It swirled through the air, delicate and thin, never strong enough in one spot to suggest someone standing in one spot, someone watching and waiting as we moved around inside the house. I wandered, tugging Ethan along with me, trying to inhale surreptitiously. He squeezed my arm again, not so gently this time. “I know what you’re doing,” he murmured as we stepped under the overhanging branches of a pecan tree. “Stop it.”
“It’s like picking at a scab,” I murmured. “You know it’s a bad idea, but it bugs you so much…”
“Exert effort.”
I rolled my eyes. That had been one of his favorite sayings when we were teenagers. Any time he wanted me to try something that took more physical strength than I supposed I had, I’d hear him grumble Exert effort, Landry. Stop waiting for it to happen for you, and just do it. “Okay, let me talk first before you go off.” I knew by the set of his jaw it was going to be physically painful for him to keep quiet while I spoke, but that was his problem for now. I told him about my morning since he’d dropped me off, his sharp huff of breath when I mentioned actually deciding not to call for help telling me exactly where the leaping off point for my chewing out would be. “And after he left, that’s when I called.” I sighed. “Cleverly thinks I’m on drugs.”
“I’m starting to wonder myself.” He finally let go of me only to start pacing himself. “First of all, fucking hell, Lan! How the hell have you survived this long?”
Embarrassment flamed hot on my face, the ugly flush spreading down my neck. “I made a decision—”
“Yeah, a fucking stupid one. He could have killed you, you ass!” Ethan stopped pacing in front of me, far closer to me than I had expected. I took half a step back and butted up against the tree, annoyance starting to override my earlier shame. “I had Tyler check up on this guy,” he said, lowering his voice as if my aunt could hear us from a half-acre away, behind closed doors and over Judge Judy. “His PI license is legit, but there’s no trace of him doing any actual work as an investigator. No known clients, no business accounts, nothing.”
“What the hell does Tyler do? Isn’t he still in college?”
“Stop trying to divert me,” Ethan snapped. “He’s shady as sin, Landry, and the fact he tracked you down—”
“He said that you could get in a hell of a lot of trouble for letting rogue weres run loose in clan territory.”
Ethan jerked back like I’d slapped him. “Yes,” he said after a long, sticky moment of silence. “That’s true. I could. If there were any rogue weres trying to live here.”
“His client says otherwise. They claim the Raymonds are rogue weres. And that you’re helping to hide them.” It was my turn to invade his personal space, stepping closer until I could smell the very faint tinge of his aftershave underneath the stronger scent of him. If there was one thing I would forever be grateful for when it came to this fucked up part of myself, it would be that I could smell Ethan like this, the warmth and rightness of him, something beyond just his skin and soap and sweat. It sparked its way down through me, settling low in my belly and glowing, a banked flame just waiting for the right touch to bring it to a full flame. Ethan knew, too, that I was scenting him, wanting him. He didn’t move away when I got so close our chests brushed. Our roles reversed for a few moments. I was the predator this time. “What would happen to you,” I asked softly, “if the Raymonds had been rogue weres? Who would be the one trying to punish you?”
He licked his lips, the pink tip of his tongue distracting me as it darted out, following its movement along his lower lip before he spoke again. “I shouldn’t tell you, but it’s bullshit, isn’t it? Keeping this a secret from you now? I should have told you about it back then, but…” He shook his head. “I was stupid. There’s an oversight committee.”
The giggle that escaped me was as far from dignified as possible. I don’t think it even existed in the same country code as dignified.
“Seriously? Fuck’s sake, Landry.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just… How could this be so secret?” I shook my head. “Christ, Ethan, I can’t even get an office Secret Santa organized. How the hell did y’all manage this?”
“Centuries of practice.” He wasn’t even a little amused, and I didn’t blame him, but I couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re making this hard.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re going to treat it like a joke, Landry…”
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I think I’m freaking out.” Hands over my eyes, I took several deep breaths. Fuck, that does nothing… I could smell Ethan, feel him so close, and the want was getting tangled with the nope. “I’m sorry,” I managed, swallowing down more giggles. “I know it’s not funny. It’s just my entire world view just tilted to one side, and I wasn’t ready.”
“You can accept I’m a werewolf, that there are others like me, but the idea that we have community and governance among ourselves fucks with your head?” I peeked. He was smiling a little—it was in his voice.
“I think we both know there’re no others like you.” I sighed. My face heated, but I didn’t care. Ethan cleared his throat, and the remembered touch of his fingertips skimmed over my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I said again, “I just… This is a lot.”
“Do you have to go back to work on Monday? Do you have any time off?”
“Um, the job came with some vacation and sick time, but it’d look hella bad if I took it now. I’ve only been there three months. I’m technically still in my probationary period for two more weeks.”
Ethan grunted, staring past me at something only he could see, lost in some thoughts. His fingers had drifted from my cheek to my shoulder and held me in place, not a hard pressure but enough that I was loath to move for fear of losing the sensation. It was safety and good and need in a way that didn’t leave me feeling gutted, desperate for more. Before I could give in and lean against his touch, Ethan’s eyes cleared, and he fixed me with a hard, determined gaze. “Right. I can’t set a deputy on your aunt without it being fishy as hell and also raising a lot of ethical issues. But I can set Tyler on her.”
“Tyler. Your brother who thought frosted tips and tearing the sleeves off his t-shirt was the height of fashion? That Tyler?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with him protecting your aunt and keeping an eye out for rogue weres.”
“It speaks to his poor decision-making skills,” I retorted. “Besides, he hates me.”
“Tyler doesn’t hate… Okay, well, he doesn’t like you, but I wouldn’t call it hate.” He shrugged. “And he’ll help because I’m telling him to. It’s not a favor for his brother, but a clan matter at this point.” His thumb rubbed a distracting circle on my shoulder. “So, this part, I have a feeling you might fly off the handle about but… are you sure that Waltrip isn’t our suspect, Landry?”
I nodded, glancing toward where Waltrip had parked earlier. I’d walked around the spot when we’d first come out, and all I could pick up under the smell of slowly decomposing leaves and warm, sandy earth was the faintest tinge of motor oil and burned coffee. “I didn’t smell it on him at all. Not even a hint. I didn’t smell it until he was leaving, and the door was open.”
“Fuck.” He sighed. “I was hoping…” He squeezed my shoulder before dropping his hand to his side. “What about his two buddies? Have you seen them since the deli when they tried to scare you?”
“I prefer ‘intimidate’ and no. Not since that day.” The low murmur of Aunt Cleverly’s television drifted out over the front lawn. She either had the front door standing open, or it was turned up very loud for us to be able to notice it this far away, even with our increased hearing ability. Ethan made a low, considering noise that did more for my southerly blood flow than I’d like to admit, both of us turning to look back toward the house. “I think it’s not a good idea, but if Tyler is my only choice, then yes, please turn Tyler loose out here. But I want him actually keeping an eye on Cleverly and the house! Without her knowing!”
“You do realize that’s pretty creepy, right? I mean, I know I’m the one who’s suggesting it, but hearing it out loud makes me realize how creepy it is.”
“Do you want to explain werewolves to her?”
“Not especially. And I’m fine with it being creepy, I just don’t like hearing it out loud. Makes me feel oogie.”
We were walking back toward the porch, backs of our hands bumping like nervous teenagers afraid to just reach out and tangle our fingers together. “Oogie? Big, tough Sheriff Stone just said he felt oogie,” I cackled.
“Who said I’m tough?” he groused, stopping on the bottom step to the porch, letting me stand on the second riser, making us just about even in height.
“Don’t even try to pretend like you’re oblivious to your public image.” I poked at his bicep with one finger. “Guys who look like you don’t just wake up one morning with muscles like that. Even”—I dropped my voice to a low whisper— “weres.” I poked him gently in the chest, adding, “And the fact you’re so aware of how you dress, how you look… Not in a vain way. Just like you give a damn. There’s a difference between the big box store flannels the rest of us are wearing and your fancy mail order plaid shirts from freaking Maine or one of those hearty, cold states, you know.”
He smirked. “So, you’ve been checking me out?”
“Considering we made out in my living room after seeing each other for less than an hour for the first time in fifteen years, you can safely say I still find you attractive.”
Ethan’s smirk blossomed into a full-fledged smile, one that made his dimples pop and his eyes crinkle. Goddamn, he was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and he knew it, too. The way he leaned in, breathing deep, he knew. The television was still blaring, the door open halfway, and from inside, the smell of Aunt Cleverly’s cooking pushing away the smell of the rogue were. Ethan glanced past me, his smile softening. “Kind of reminds me of when I’d walk you home from your job at that awful burger place.”
I looked over my shoulder at the slice of hallway revealed by the open door, how it looked unchanged since I’d left for high school, and then back at Ethan, the man in front of me who had traces of the boy I’d loved but was someone new, someone who had left behind that loud, and fast, and brash, and bright-burning teenager before either of us realized it. “It does?” I asked, my voice husky, barely a breath supporting the words. “It feels new to me.”
Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, swaying toward me before exhaling slowly and opening them again. “I’m still on duty for a few more hours,” he said regretfully. “Can I come by later? I want to… I want to learn about you again.”
I raised my eyebrows and made a teasing, shocked face. “Sheriff Stone! Are you propositioning me?”
He rolled his eyes, his laugh low and rough. “Damn it, Landry, I’m trying to have a moment with you here!”
I reached out and fussed with his collar, with the stupid black polyester tie he had to wear with his uniform, twitching his smudged nameplate on his pocket. “Come by after your shift. I’m not leaving till in the morning. We can talk tonight. Or at least get started with everything we need to discuss.”
Ethan nodded, walking backward a few feet before nodding once more and turning away. “I’ll talk to Tyler before tonight,” he called over his shoulder.
I waved, even though he couldn’t see me, and watched as he got into the department’s SUV and backed out onto the road. The television got quiet back in the house. Cleverly was moving around, fussing with something in the kitchen, but I stood on the porch a minute longer, staring after Ethan, my mind a tangle. I needed to make a list, I decided. More than one friend and coworker had told me, my reliance on list-making was annoying, my little sticky notes and torn out notebook pages thumb tacked to the boards around the office or apartment had been what I was known for in college, and later when I moved out on my own, sharing space with short term lovers or friends. It verged on obsessive sometimes, my need to list things out and find patterns, find the best order for things so I could be more efficient, so my life would go smoothly, even just for a few hours. First, the Raymonds, I thought, heading back into the house and closing the door behind me. Something smelled a bit burned, and I realized Cleverly must have opened the door to vent the smoke. I stuck my head in the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. “Aunt Cleverly?”
“Back here,” she called, sounding like she was in her sewing room. “Can you come help me with this?”
“Sure.”
Why blame Ethan for hiding the fact they were rogue if they were weres? Ooooh, maybe I’ll make one of those web diagrams.
I stopped in the doorway to the sewing room. It was empty. “Aunt Cleverly?”
“Over here, dear,” she said, sounding very close. Before I could turn, everything exploded in pain, my vision going white as sharp, electric shocks shot down my neck and spine. I knew I was falling, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh, dear,” she gasped. “That looked painful!”
“Aunt… Aunt Cleverly?” I gasped, trying to push myself up onto all fours, trying to stand. I must have hit my head on something, I thought. What, though? The door was open; all that was behind me was an empty hallway and the guest bathroom. “What—” I managed to roll to one side. My aunt was frowning, bending toward me, her fingers reaching for my face. “My head…”
“Shhh, let me help,” she soothed, dropping to her knees. “You’re going to have a terrible headache later!”
“I have one now.” Everything sounded so far away, even the mental alarm bells currently grating and screeching somewhere deep in my brain. “I think I need to go to the ER.” Am I having a stroke? Oh, God, is this an aneurysm?
“Let me see your eyes, honey,” she crooned. One of her palms pressed against my forehead, tipping my head back gently so she could look into my pupils. “They’re even, so that’s good.” A sharp prick sparked against my neck. “Oh, dear, now they’re dilating!” She tsked. “Oh, my.”
I couldn’t put the pieces together. I needed to make that damned list, I thought, everything blurring and stretching. “Call… call 911,” I groaned.
The pain in my head was fading, being replaced by a heavy, thick feeling. This wasn’t fainting—I’d fainted before, and it was nothing like this slow, sticky slide toward unconsciousness.
“Did I get a bee sting?” I asked distantly, reaching up to the burning spot on my neck.
“It’s okay, Landry.” She leaned in even closer. Her eyes were red, tears sparkling along her lashes. They seemed so bright to me as she pressed a kiss to my forehead and patted my hand. “We’re gonna get you taken care of.”