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The Witch And The Werewolf
Michele Hauf


The werewolf's fate rested in the witch's hands . . .Mireio Malory is a quirky witch who’s on a quest to complete a dark spell that will grant her immortality – at the expense of using a live vampire's heart in the spell. She's ready to conjure that dangerous and life-changing spell, until she meets a lone werewolf and beekeeper.Lars Gunderson has secrets of his own. His alpha allure is obvious, but Mireio senses that there’s something more to him than his raw sexiness. When Lars entrusts her with a devastating revelation, Mireio has to make a choice. Will she now sacrifice the most potent magic she’s ever worked on to be with the man she loves?







The werewolf’s fate rested in the witch’s hands...

Mireio Malory is a quirky witch who’s on a quest to complete a dark spell that will grant her immortality—at the expense of a live vampire’s heart. She’s ready to conjure that dangerous and life-changing spell when she meets a lone werewolf and beekeeper.

Lars Gunderson has secrets of his own. His alpha allure is obvious, but Mireio senses that there’s something more to him than his raw sexiness. When Lars entrusts her with a devastating revelation, Mireio has to make a choice. Will she sacrifice the most potent magic she’s ever worked on to be with the man she loves?


Her fingers clutched his shirt and the connection zinged his every nerve ending, sending scintillating tingles all over his skin.

It was as if together they created a sort of sensual electricity. And Lars couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her tongue, her sighs.

Pressing a hand against her back, he coaxed her forward and bowed to continue the kiss. Her moan said everything he was feeling: yes, yes, all the yeses in the world. This tiny witch felt so right in his arms. He had to thank the gods for putting him in her backyard, even if it had been a strange night that had scared the hell out of him.


MICHELE HAUF is a USA TODAY bestselling author who has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually populate her stories. And if Michele followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.michelehauf.com (http://www.michelehauf.com).


The Witch and the Werewolf

Michele Hauf






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Jeff. Our souls agreed to this.


Contents

Cover (#u4a237af9-3d32-5dbd-9f75-3965d62f36c7)

Back Cover Text (#u8e912151-a3ef-5194-b2c9-913f29a687ba)

Introduction (#ucf66cc5d-651f-5b21-b89d-cc1bc3ce624d)

About the Author (#u0a0072e0-a66d-5406-a7e2-dd74dfcfda4f)

Title Page (#u1a0ae6fb-fdbc-5f2b-9db3-03cf870f3f92)

Dedication (#udb998deb-0abb-5502-a22a-f14395e4bca4)

Chapter 1 (#ue996157c-4dc0-5fc6-ac12-890edb56a027)

Chapter 2 (#u18ec7ba2-eda3-58f9-b8d4-db59211528bb)

Chapter 3 (#u0c04cf2f-fbd5-5e74-8d6f-a73305f8fccd)

Chapter 4 (#ucdd4e6a2-0d11-5a7a-8d3a-476deca387fb)

Chapter 5 (#u8cd606c1-e09a-580e-a54c-db4314ec32ab)

Chapter 6 (#u2e746c64-9e8d-51cc-881b-f6ff9c8cf21c)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#ub6b27147-1cde-5aa6-92e2-d6e59c0443c7)

Feet floating up so her toes peeked out of the frothy bubble bath, Mireio Malory wiggled the little pink beads as she sang to the music filling her bathroom. She sang along with the Meghan Trainor tune about loving herself and not having time for a man because she was all about having fun. A fitting theme song for Mireio at the moment.

Guys were great, but she didn’t have the time to focus on a relationship if her plans to achieve immortality came to fruition. A simple spell could prolong her life a hundred years, guaranteed. But to actually perform that spell—which involved drinking the blood from a live vampire’s beating heart? She’d been avoiding the spell for years, but she couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to honor her departed mother, and to take back her power.

Baths were a common ritual for her in the evenings, after a long day of work at the brewery, or after she’d flexed into a few yoga moves and watched an episode of Bones on Netflix. Born a witch, yet pretty darn disappointed she’d not been born a mermaid, Mireio honored her water magic by feeding her body’s innate craving for water. Surely she owned the biggest bathroom in the city. It was hexagonal, tiled like a Moroccan temple and the big round marble bathtub sat at the center of it all. It was the size of a hot tub, but there were no bubble jets in this tub beyond the sensory explosions from her homemade bath bombs.

Singing loudly, she blew a handful of bubbles skyward and laughed when some landed in her pinned-up red hair. The water was starting to cool, and she’d been in for forty-five minutes. Her fingers and toes were pruned, providing her traction—if she were an amphibian. Or a mermaid.

With a reluctant sigh, she rose from her watery haven and reached for a toasty towel hung over the towel warmer. It wasn’t the wet porcelain tile floor that almost caused her to slip upon exiting the bath—it was the scream.

And a very familiar scream at that.

“Really?” Mireio wrapped the towel around her ample curves and padded wet tracks to the back window to peer out, though she knew she couldn’t see into her neighbor Mrs. Henderson’s yard from here. The windows were also fogged.

She often mentally compared her neighbor to Mrs. Kravitz, the nosy neighbor on the 1960s TV show Bewitched. They didn’t look at all similar, but they possessed the same snoopy, and unwelcome, curiosity and annoying voices.

Yet another scream, this one curling the hairs on the back of Mireio’s neck, prompted her to use the side door in the bathroom that walked out onto the patio.

Pushing open the screen door, she leaned out into the cool spring air and scanned her backyard. It was close to midnight, yet her yard was always illuminated from the house light above the door where she stood, and the dozen solar lights pushed into the lawn at five-foot intervals that framed the backyard.

Suddenly something ran into view. A deer? Wildlife always dashed through the neighborhood yards. Raccoons, beavers, deer, once even a black bear.

Mireio stepped out onto the bamboo patio rug, holding the screen door open with two fingers. She peered into the night, thinking her species, witches, had gotten ripped off because they didn’t have cool night vision like vampires and werewolves. Suddenly an animal stopped, twenty feet away, in the middle of her yard.

She recognized the creature with an ease that made her heart sink.

“A werewolf,” she gasped.

Removing her hand from the screen door to put her fingers to her mouth, she suddenly felt a cool breeze skim her bare skin. More skin than should have been exposed. The towel had gotten caught in the door and fallen away, leaving her standing naked beneath the house light, unable to form words as she met the werewolf’s golden gaze.

The creature, who in fully shifted form was half wolf, half man, thrust back his shoulders and lifted his chest, looking ready to howl. But when his gold eyes dragged away from hers and down her body...

Mireio tried to cover herself as she actually said, “Eek!”

The wolf snorted and a low growling noise rumbled in the night. It didn’t sound threatening. In fact, to her it sounded...amorous.

Mrs. Henderson’s scream sounded again. It was the catalyst to setting the werewolf off in a dash out of the yard.

Released from the spell of the creature’s piercing gaze, Mireio grabbed the door pull and opened it, reaching for the towel and quickly wrapping it around her body.

Just in the nick of time because from around the corner of her backyard appeared a policeman, and in his wake, Mrs. Henderson.

“Did you see it?” Mrs. Henderson, wrapped in a thick white terry robe, scampered over to the patio, the ears on her bunny slippers bobbing.

Tugging the towel up higher and this time clasping it firmly, she stood before the elderly policeman, whom she knew lived on the other side of Mrs. Henderson. Mireio nodded. “Uh, yes?”

“I told you!” Mrs. Henderson slapped the policeman’s back, who shrugged and winced. He was accustomed to answering Mrs. Henderson’s cries of wolf at all hours of the day.

But had this been a true cry of wolf? Best not to let humans know that.

“It was a deer,” Mireio hastily tossed out. “Or maybe a moose. Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was.”

“A moose?” Mrs. Henderson jammed her bony fists to her hips. “It was Bigfoot!”

“All right, all right,” the policeman said, placating his neighbor with a pat to her back. “Miss Malory here says it was a moose. She’s got very good eyesight, and her backyard is well lit. So if she says it was a moose, I believe her. Let’s go home now, Mrs. Henderson. Leave Miss Malory to...her bath.”

To his credit he didn’t eye her blatantly, only tipped a nod to her and turned Mrs. Henderson around, walking her back to her yard. All the way they argued over why a moose would be wandering through the tulips when it had very obviously been Bigfoot.

Mireio stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door and locked it. She peered out the now-defogged window, attempting to sight the werewolf. Perhaps spy a wolfish shadow backlit by the moonlight.

Whispering a protection spell to encompass her yard, she sent it out with a blown kiss.

Why had a werewolf been wandering through the neighborhood? That wasn’t common. Too risky. And it wasn’t even the full moon. Werewolves were much smarter than that. They knew to stay away from humans when shifted.

“It was a good thing for him I scared him off.”

Mireio winced. She had scared the wolf away with her naked body? Not one of her finest moments.

On the other hand, that look it had given her. Definitely animal, but also...maybe kind of...sexual.

She shook her head. “You’re a silly witch. Just be thankful you didn’t flash the whole neighborhood. Ha!”

The music now blared Taylor Swift. Dropping her towel, Mireio performed a hip shimmy as she reached to drain the tub and then blew out the candles one by one, blessing the water goddess Danu as she did so.

* * *

Three nights later, Mireio stayed late after her shift at The Decadent Dames. She and her three witch friends owned the microbrewery in Anoka. Mireio was the master brewer. They all brewed and worked shifts and took turns scheduling, but Mireio was the early riser, so she generally arrived around six in the morning to start the day’s brew and finished about an hour before they opened in the afternoon. Today, she’d gotten a late start so had finished the brew hours after opening.

A local band that covered current pop hits was set up before the front windows and the house was packed. At the moment, the lead singer belted out a cover of Meghan Trainor’s “NO,” which was an anthem to a woman not needing a man.

Singing the chorus, “Untouchable, untouchable,” Mireio danced by herself amid the crowd on the dance floor, arms thrust high and hips swaying her short red-and-blue-tartan skirt. Nothing felt better than a beer buzz and dancing. And she had new, red, five-inch heels to break in, so much dancing was required. Tossing her bright red corkscrew curls over a shoulder, she let out an exhilarated hoot.

Eryss, the brewery’s principal owner, danced up to Mireio. She and her boyfriend, a former witch hunter who lived in Santa Cruz, California, split their time between cities during the year and soon she’d be headed for the sunny West Coast. Her friend’s long skirts dusted the hardwood floor and she grasped Mireio’s hands and the twosome danced for a few seconds.

“You look happy,” Eryss said over the noise.

“I am! I’m always happy!”

“It’s contagious!” Then Eryss leaned in to speak close at Mireio’s ear. “Did you notice the hunk at the bar who has been eyeing you up fiercely for the last ten minutes?”

“What?” Mireio abruptly stopped dancing and glanced to the bar, which was fronted by rusted corrugated tin in keeping with their rustic theme. She scanned from the left end of the bar to the right, and there at the end a big, beefy man with a mustache and beard, and long brown hair tied behind his head, lifted his pint glass to tip toward her. Handsome. “Huh.” But. “Didn’t notice. I’m in my zone, don’t you know?”

“Yeah, I got that. I wish I could find the zone so easily nowadays. Whew!” Eryss blew a strand of long hair from her face. She had a six-month-old at home who lately had been keeping her up nights because of teething. “But don’t be too untouchable tonight, okay? That man is sexy times two.”

“Don’t tell me that, Eryss. I’m not in the market for a—Oh, my goddess, he’s coming over here.”

“Then I’m going to leave you to him.”

“No! Eryss!”

The man pushed by two people and deftly avoided a bull terrier sitting beside his owner’s table. (Yes, the brewery was dog friendly.) He was halfway across the room.

“Please don’t be a creeper. Please don’t be a creeper.” Mireio performed a hip swinging turn and he stood right before her. “Oh!”

Big brown eyes looked into her soul almost as deeply as if he could do a soul gaze. Of which, only witches were capable. And no one in town knew the owners of The Decadent Dames were witches. Well, mostly no one.

“Oh, hey,” she offered.

Eryss had been right in her assessment of the man. But more like sexy times infinity. His dark brown hair was tied behind his head and his beard was trimmed neatly to reveal a snow-white smile. Chocolate brown eyes? Dreamy. Dimples? Oh, mercy. And he smelled like a forest after the rain.

“My name’s Lars.” He leaned in to be heard over the music. “I don’t normally walk up to pretty girls and introduce myself.” He looked aside briefly, then cast his eyes toward hers for only a few seconds. Nervous? “But there’s something about you. Do I know you?”

“I’ve never seen you before. Unless you come to the brewery often. I work here,” she said, unable to keep her hips from swaying to the beat. “You like to dance?”

The man shook his head. “I’m not a dancer. Was hoping you wouldn’t mind a little conversation.”

He seemed nice enough. And he hadn’t tried any pickup lines on her yet, so that earned him points. But, as she’d told Eryss, she’d been in her zone. And some nights a girl just wanted to be with herself. Maybe she should reinforce her white light. She always warded with a white light against psychic invasion—or energy vampires—before going out. It tended to wear down as the night went on.

“Sorry.” He shrugged and smirked, interrupting her thoughts. “I think I’m out of line here. You don’t seem interested—”

“No, wait!”

Ah hell, she wasn’t a mean girl, and the guy was cute. What could a little conversation hurt?

“That table is empty. I need a break anyway. New shoes, don’t you know.” She didn’t need the break, but again, the man was a tall order of nummy, so she’d be a fool to send him off like a stuck-up witch.

He wandered over to the table and Mireio assessed him as he did. His jeans were snug and showed off incredibly muscled thighs and legs that stretched much longer than hers. Good thing she was wearing the heels. But she still came up a head or two shorter than him. He wore a soft blue-and-green flannel shirt opened to reveal a plain white T-shirt beneath. And that shirt stretched over abs and chest muscles that screamed this man works out. A lot. Add in the beard, mustache and well-groomed hair and he sported the whole lumbersexual vibe.

She could dig it.

She stepped onto the lower rung on the stool to boost herself up to the high table. Hey, she was five-two on a good day. Here at the back of the taproom they were set off from the dancers but it was still loud.

“Lilacs,” he said.

“What?”

“You smell like lilacs.” His dimpled smile was accompanied by a shy dip of his head.

She didn’t wear perfume, save for essential oils once in a while, so if he smelled lilacs, then... “Oh. I was in the garden this afternoon. That must be what you smell on me. The lilacs are blooming. I love spring. Everything is so lush.”

He nodded. “A familiar scent. I like it.”

“You’re a big one,” she said absently. Then she realized what an idiot she’d sounded like. “Uh, I mean... Oh, witch’s warts. I need another beer.”

“I’ll get you one.”

“No, I got it.” With a wave, she caught Eryss’s attention behind the bar and made the pouring signal for another beer. “I work here. Not right now. But I own the place along with my friends. They know the fill-me-up signal.”

“You ladies make excellent beer.”

“Thank you. I brewed that oatmeal stout you’re drinking.”

“It’s nice and creamy.”

“I’m the head brewer,” she said over the rising noise as the band kicked into a rousing ’80s tune that everyone started to pound their fists to and bounce up and down.

“You say it’s newer? Yes, I like it.” He tilted back the drink and offered her a cheers with his half-empty glass.

She was never going to have a conversation with him surrounded by this noise. And she did want to get to know him better. Because why not? He was sexy and nonthreatening. And she wasn’t against having a conversation with a handsome man.

“So, Lars, eh?”

“Yes. Officially Larson Gunderson.”

“That’s a fine Scandinavian name, if I’ve ever heard one. I’m Mireio Malory.”

“Muriel.”

“No, Mir-ee-O.”

“Oh. It’s loud in here with the band singing. My hearing is usually...much better.” He winced then, as if thinking of something he’d forgotten. He shook the sudden lost moment away and offered her a smile that flashed his pearly whites from beneath his trimmed mustache.

“Muriel will do.” She thrust up her hand for him to shake.

His hand clasped hers gently, wrapping with ease about it and up to her wrist. And then he held her more firmly, and the heat of their connection gave her a shiver. One of those really good, how-could-a-girl-get-so-lucky kind of shivers that she felt from head to nipples to toes—and everywhere in between.

And yet... She sensed something in his handshake. Something not quite human. It was the same feeling she got whenever the Saint-Pierre brothers stopped into the brewery. Those four ranged from werewolves, to a vampire and also a faery.

With a gasp, Mireio pulled her hand from his. He didn’t notice her surprise, thank goodness. She was a water witch and spent a lot of time in nature working with streams, ponds, lakes and otherwise. She also communicated with the animals, and could always sense when one was near.

And Larson Gunderson gave off a distinctive animal vibe. Could he be? Oh, mercy, he wasn’t. Please, do not let him be the one who...

Mireio swallowed. If the lilac scent was familiar to him—witch’s warts. He was the one.

Eryss suddenly popped up beside the table and handed her another pint of blueberry cream ale. She winked and sailed off before Mireio could grab her as an anchor. Something to hold her down so she didn’t float too near the curious man who—This couldn’t be an accidental meeting. But did that mean he’d followed her here?

She tilted back a swallow, then set the pint down on a coaster that featured their logo, a sexy witch casting a spell over a foamy brew. “So, Lars, uh...what can you tell me about yourself? I mean, I don’t want this to sound like fifty questions.”

“Fifty? You have that many questions for me in such a short time? I’m impressed.” He pushed his glass aside and leaned his elbows on the table. She wanted to touch him once more. Just to be sure that what she’d felt was real. “I live out past Oak Grove. I come to town once a week for groceries and a pint. Just remembered this place was here so thought I’d stop in. I’m definitely coming back.”

“And what is it you do, exactly?” Because if he didn’t have a real job, she’d get suspicious. And fast.

“I...well, you could sort of call it security. On a private compound.”

“Ah-huh.”

That was vague. And she was getting more nervous about the guy by the second. But really, if he was the one, would he know things about her? Things she didn’t want him to know.

“I’m also remodeling the cabin I live in. I like making things with my hands.” He splayed them both on the table to reveal long, calloused fingers.

Oh, those were some fine hands that could certainly cover a lot of area on her if she was in the market for such handling. Which she was not. Was she? Mercy. Maybe giving up on men to focus on a spell she was too freaked about to give more than a few moments consideration to daily was too extreme?

Could be. But even more so? Talking to a man who may have very likely seen her naked a few nights ago was even more extreme. She couldn’t deal with this. Not right now.

“Do you want more stout?” she asked and nodded toward his nearly empty pint.

“Probably.” He tilted back the rest of the drink.

“Head to the bar.” She reached over and touched the back of his hand. There was that sensation again. Hiding a cringe, she nodded toward the bar. “Eryss will give you a refill. On the house.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here!”

No, she would not be here.

Mireio grabbed her little black purse, shaped like a fish, swung it over a shoulder, and beelined it for the door behind the band, well out of view of the bar, and the mysteriously delicious Lars Gunderson’s eyesight.

She’d had three drinks, so she wouldn’t drive home. If she were lucky, she might catch a bus this late.


Chapter 2 (#ub6b27147-1cde-5aa6-92e2-d6e59c0443c7)

When he returned to the now empty table, Lars saw the sassy little skirt slip out the door. The woman with the bright red curls and sexy, deep cleavage had dashed out of the brewery.

He gaped. Really? Had he made that terrible of a first impression? She’d kind of seemed into him. Had touched his hand. Had even fluttered her thick lashes at him as she’d smiled a sweet pixie smile. And he hadn’t gotten to ask her the burning question. The one he’d been wondering about since the scent of lilacs had led him here.

Devastated that the woman had taken off, Lars sulked. He should chalk it up as another rejection. And yet a deep, visceral part of him would not allow him to mark this off as defeat. He had to know if she was the one.

So, leaving his beer on the table, he pushed through the dancing people and slunk around the electric guitarist and pushed open the door. He could hear her high heels clicking on the concrete, though he couldn’t see her. But he smelled lilacs...that way.

Turning left, he passed three storefronts, then swung another left and there she stood, near the bus stop, stepping nervously from foot to foot. He heard her mutter softly, “Oh, shit.”

That utterance stabbed Lars right in the heart. Never had a woman rejected him so soundly as to run off. So he stopped about twenty feet away from her and put up his hands placatingly.

Should he really do this? Was he that desperate for more cruel treatment? She seemed almost afraid of him. Threatened? He didn’t want her to feel that way. That wasn’t his style.

But the heady scent of lilacs wouldn’t allow him to turn away.

So what to do?

The woman wore a short skirt that looked like one of those tartans the Highlanders wore, along with a blousy red top that emphasized her ample cleavage. Sky-high heels matched the blouse color. And white ankle socks with a delicate ruffle kept drawing his eye down there. She was short, a good head shorter than him, even in the heels, but the shoes did make her legs look long and slender.

“You keep staring at my legs like that, I’m going to have to slap you,” she said.

“Sorry.”

She offered him a smile and a shift of her hips. “I don’t do things like slap men.”

He took that as a sign it was okay to approach. But only a few steps. “Couldn’t help but stare. You’ve amazing gams. I, uh...did you have a previous engagement you forgot to tell me about?”

She rubbed a palm up one of her arms. A black fish swung near her waist. What was that? A purse?

“Sorry. I suddenly got a weird vibe about you. No offense.”

“Really? Because if you think I’m weird I do take offense from that.”

“No, I don’t think you’re weird weird. Just—hey, weird is good, right?”

“Still offended here.”

Her wince was accompanied by a shrug. “I’m usually much better at explaining myself. I think you’re a...” She bit her lower lip. Her lips were so red and plump. Kissable. Yet juxtaposed with her appeal was also her strange fear of him. What had he said to her to make her flee?

“I’m a what?” Lars prompted.

“I’m not sure how to say it. You said the lilac scent was familiar to you.”

It had been in his nose since three nights ago when he’d been out of his head and had woken in the morning knowing he’d shifted again without volition. It had been happening with a disturbing frequency lately. And each time he risked being seen by more than a few humans.

Yet, he also sensed this woman wasn’t necessarily human.

“I did, and do, smell lilacs,” he said. “There’s only wildflowers growing out where I live. I keep bees. They make me happy.” Ramble much? Just out with it, you idiot! “So anyway, the lilac scent stood out to me the moment I entered the brewery. Let me see if I can approach what I think we’re both trying to avoid. Okay?” He took a step toward her.

She clung to the bus stop pole fiercely.

“Tell me,” he asked, “if the rumors I’ve heard about the owners of the brewery are true?”

Thankfully, no one else was out on the sidewalk, and the streetlights illuminated their conversation. Around the corner, the band could be heard singing a Billy Idol tune. Lars would love to give a rebel yell right about now. Anything to release his anxiety over talking to this goddess of a woman.

“What?” She teased a bright curl about her forefinger and her stance relaxed. That wasn’t a motion that Lars could look at for long without wanting to do it himself. Tangle his fingers in her hair, that is. “That we spike the beer with a little something extra?”

“Is that a rumor? Huh. No, I’m talking about the one where you bewitch the beers. Because you’re witches.”

“Oh, that one.” Her shoulders dropped. The fish purse slid down her arm to dangle near an ankle. A heavy sigh preceded her nod. “Well, we try to keep things as normal as possible for the human patrons. But...” Her pretty blue eyes dallied with his. “You have a problem with me being a witch?”

“Nope. I was raised by a wolf who was married to a witch.”

“Which means...” She teased her tongue along her upper lip as she eyed him carefully. “I’m guessing you’re not human either, are you?”

Lars dared a few steps closer to her. He cast a glance around toward the parking lot across the street—no one in the vicinity—then said quietly. “I’m a wolf.”

“Shit.” An accusing finger pointed at him and Lars couldn’t be sure if it might possess a magical zap. “It’s you.”

He actually flinched. “I...don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You were the wolf the other night, weren’t you? The werewolf in my backyard.”

“Uh...yes?”

Talk about being caught out. Guilty as charged.

“Oh, I can’t do this.” She started across the street but avoided the parking lot.

If she’d been waiting for the bus, did she not have a car? Was she veering off course to get away from him? He’d gone about this all wrong. He’d scared her when he had only wanted to meet her and get to know the compelling woman who had not left his thoughts for days.

“Muriel, wait!”

“It’s Mireio! And don’t follow me, please. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

“You shouldn’t be. I can’t remember much.”

“What?” She suddenly stopped in the middle of the street that stretched down a quiet area between the parking lot and a closed restaurant. “So you admit it was you the other night?”

“I think so?” He approached with his hands splayed up and out. “When I’m in werewolf shape I know things and see them as the wolf, but my wolf mind shares space with my man mind. Things get a little confusing.”

“Not confusing enough for you to be unable to find me tonight.”

“It was the lilacs. I smelled them that night. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since. Or of the soft woman I saw standing in the doorway.”

“Oh, my goddess. You do remember that! I was naked!”

He offered a weak shrug. “Yes?”

“You said things were confusing. Do you remember me naked or not?”

He wobbled his hand before him. “Kind of? I don’t have a good image of you, just sort of a memory imprint of seeing something really nice.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Gripping the purse strap with both fists, the fish wobbled before her as she took an exaggerated step backward. “You are freaking me out.”

“I don’t want to. I’m not like that. I’m not a guy who can—Do you know how hard it is for me to walk up to a woman and talk to her?”

“Couldn’t have been that hard. You followed me out here!”

“I wanted to start over and hoped that maybe you’d talk to me.” He stopped moving closer, knowing he’d blown it. He should not torment this beautiful woman anymore. Where the hell were his manners? “Forgive me. I’ve no talent approaching women. I mean, I do it all the time. Not like a stalker or anything—ah hell. I just... I’m embarrassingly awkward when it comes to this kind of stuff. I wanted to see the pretty woman who smelled like flowers once more. Sorry to have bothered you.”

He forced himself to turn and walk off. Idiot, Lars! Way to spoil the chick’s night. And to spoil his chances of getting to know her better. Yes, he’d seen her naked. And he remembered that image much better than he would ever admit to her. Soft, generous curves, and so much golden light glinting on her skin, which still had beads of water on it. Hell. His werewolf had been attracted to her. He was attracted to her.

“Wait!”

Now across the street, he stopped and turned back to her. The tiny witch toed the opposite curb with one of those sexy shoes, and offered a shrugging smile. “It was a remarkable beginning, that was for sure. You didn’t do anything wrong, Lars. I couldn’t be sure if you were leering at me that night—”

“Oh, never, no. I mean, I don’t know. Honestly? I might have leered a bit. You’re worthy of a long, lingering look.”

She clutched the weird purse tightly, and he realized what he’d said.

“I’m not saying anything right tonight.” He checked his watch. Almost midnight. Shit. He had to stop by the compound, and soon. “It was nice meeting you, Muriel.”

“Mireio.”

“Right. You make great beer. And you have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever had the chance to look into. But I promise I won’t come back to the brewery. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He turned away again, and this time when she spoke, his shoulders straightened.

“Can we start over?” she called.

He nodded, and turned a look over his shoulder. All his anxiety swept downward and flooded out across the sidewalk. Offering her a confident smile, he said, “I’d like that.”

She approached him and, as she did, tugged something out of her purse. It was her cell phone, which she handed to him. “Put your number in there for me, and we’ll try again.”

He almost shouted score! but controlled his nervous energy. If she knew how much courage it had taken him to cross the taproom to talk to her, and then to follow her after she’d run out on him...

And now he was entering his number into her phone. Some kind of awesome, that.

“I’d like to get to know you better.” He handed her back the slim pink phone. “What would you think about going out for something to eat tomorrow night?”

“I have to work tomorrow night.”

“Oh.”

“But lunch tomorrow could work. Why don’t you stop by my place around noon? I think you know where I live, right?”

“I should be able to figure that out.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Lilacs. Thanks for the second chance, Mireio.”

“It’s—oh. Right. Mireio.”

He winked at her, because he’d known her name since she’d first told him, then turned and wandered off. Halfway across the parking lot he turned and waved at her. She remained in the middle of the street. Probably waiting for him to leave before she returned to the bus stop. He wouldn’t be rude and force her to wait long. Picking up his pace he aimed for his truck around the corner.

He’d talked to the girl! And it had turned out almost okay. Which was about how he rated his life right now. Almost okay, with a side of what the devil. The almost okay waited for him right now, so he shoved the key in the ignition and fired up the truck.

As for the what the devil? He’d been having weird symptoms for over a year, more than just shifting without volition, so had finally gone to see a doctor a few days ago. The doctor told him he’d give him a call in a week when the test results were complete.

But he wasn’t going to worry about that. He’d been invited to a pretty witch’s house tomorrow for lunch.

So he did indulge in a shout out loud. “Score!”


Chapter 3 (#ub6b27147-1cde-5aa6-92e2-d6e59c0443c7)

Lars strode up the sidewalk to the little red cottage placed at the end of a cul-de-sac. He didn’t recognize the area by sight, but by scent? He’d been here before. Yet, besides the naked woman, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. He remembered someone screaming, and then the sight of a beautiful woman—naked. He wasn’t going to tell Mireio that as werewolf he saw things as he did when in man shape. His instincts and thoughts were more animalistic, but he did recall sights and sounds and smells.

And she had the sweetest curves on that tiny package topped with red curls and a Kewpie doll smile.

Now as he took the steps up to the door, he inspected the flowers he’d picked up at a gas station on the way here. Blue daisies. He liked blue. Her eyes were blue. But the flowers didn’t have a scent and now he studied them closer, they actually looked...dyed.

“I can’t even do flowers right.” Thinking to toss them aside in the little flower garden that hugged the front of the redbrick house, he paused. “She’ll see them there.”

For once he would like to get it right with a woman. It would be a bright spot in his life. And he really needed one. But his nervousness around the female sex could never be allayed by his usual confident alpha surety. Women made him go all stiff and fumble for his words. And hiding the stiff part could sometimes prove a problem, as well.

Smirking at that thought, he grabbed the door knocker and muttered, “Please let her like me. Give me this one, okay?”

Who he was asking, he wasn’t sure. He believed in the possibility of God, so if there existed a higher power, he hoped his words would, at the very least, be noted by some force.

Rapping the knocker a few times, he then waited. After ten seconds the door swung open to reveal the flour-dusted face of a witch who sported a surprised look on her face. Hell, he should have called first. But she had told him to stop by for lunch. He must have misunderstood. Par for the course with him.

“Uh...?” Thick black lashes blinking over her blue eyes, she glanced to the flowers in his hand. “Oh! Right! Lunch! I forgot.”

“I should have called.”

“No, that’s fine.”

“You weren’t expecting me. I can leave and—”

“Don’t be silly.” She grabbed him by the wrist and coaxed him over the threshold. “Come in! I was baking some bread.”

“It smells great.” He followed the scent toward the kitchen more than he followed her. Yeast and warmth and crisp browned crust. Mmm... He scanned the many loaves on the kitchen counter. He counted eight but also noted the oven light was on and there was another loaf inside. “That’s...a lot of bread.”

“I know, it’s crazy!” She flung up her hands in surrender, then noted the flour on her fingers and wiped them across her pink frilled apron, which was covered with a white dusting of flour. “Whenever I get the urge to bake homemade bread I always go overboard. I really like the kneading process.” She punched the air with a tiny fist. “Gets out some of my frustrations.”

Lars wasn’t sure if he should sit on one of the stools before the kitchen counter—that might seem too presumptuous—so he stood there holding the bouquet with both hands. Feeling out of his element and, as usual, awkward. “You’re frustrated?”

“It’s because of a decision I’ve been mulling over recently. A witch thing. A spell, actually. So, you brought some pretty flowers for me? I love blue.”

“I do too. I can’t smell them, though. It’s kind of strange.”

He handed her the bouquet and she pressed the oddly colored blooms to her nose, then sneezed. “Whew! Nope, no smell, but I think I got a petal up my nose. Ha! Sit down. Oh, we were supposed to go out for lunch, right?” She glanced to the oven.

“We can do it some other time. I can see you’re busy. It was nice to see you again today. I thought I freaked you out last night. I know I handled things wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it. Today’s a new day. And I have an idea. Because I certainly need to do something with all this bread. How about sandwiches and lemonade out on my patio?”

Spend time with the sexiest woman he’d met in a long time? “I’m in.”

* * *

The opportunity to have lunch with the sexy werewolf was just the thing to knock Mireio out of her incessant worrying over how to locate a vampire for the immortality spell. It would also complement the fruitful results of her bread-making endeavors. Sure, she would hand out loaves to her girlfriends, and freeze a couple, but seriously, what witch needed that much bread?

So she sliced up a loaf of oatmeal rye, making the slices extra thick. The steam rose with a seductive invitation as she spread on some cucumber yogurt sauce, covered that with spinach, pickled onions, peppers and some slivered carrots and radishes. Top that all with broccoli sprouts and finely shredded red cabbage, and voilГ !

With a glance and a wink to the candle she kept above the stove, she felt as if her mother was watching over her. She lit the beeswax candle once a year on her mother’s birthday. It was her way of keeping her memory close.

Ten minutes later, the werewolf didn’t seem to mind that there was no meat in the sandwiches. He was on his third half when Mireio returned to the patio with a refill on the blueberry lemonade for both of them.

“This is really good,” he said. He sat on the wide-backed white wicker chair before the tiny wrought iron table. His big form seemed to suck up the chair and his knees kept hitting his elbows. It was doll furniture for the man. “What’s that sour tangy stuff in the middle?”

“Pickled red onions.”

“Love them. Thanks,” he said as she poured him more lemonade.

“I’ll send you home with a loaf of bread too, if you don’t mind. I obviously have some to spare.”

“I’d like that.” He met her gaze only briefly over the sandwich.

He was a shy one, which surprised Mireio after his bold approach last night. But she’d sensed his nervousness then, as well. And knowing what he’d known about her, it had to have been tough to get up the courage to approach her. Especially when she could have reacted badly—and did.

She noticed his distraction as he looked over the small backyard, framed in on one side by ten-foot-high lilac hedges and low boxwood on the other. As he narrowed his eyes she suspected he was remembering. Merciful moons, she might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get all the painful stuff over with.

“Yes,” she offered, “I was standing right there—” she pointed over her shoulder “—by the door that enters into the bathroom.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to ask. It’s the lilacs. They are what brought me to your doorstep today, and to the brewery last night. The scent is heady.”

“You wolves have good sniffers. Did you happen to remember an old lady screaming from that night?”

“I, uh...” He set the remaining quarter of sandwich on the plate. “Yes?”

Mireio chuckled at his obvious confusion. “It’s okay. Mrs. Henderson is a drama queen. She stopped over the next morning. Wanted to talk about the monster.”

“Monster?”

“Yes. And get this—she’d changed her mind from her original assessment that it was Bigfoot. Now she’s sure it was a Sasquatch.”

“A—really?” His mouth dropped at the corners and his big brown eyes saddened.

“You’re not a monster.” She felt the need to reach over and pat his knee in reassurance. “But it’s a good thing she thinks that, isn’t it? If she was telling everyone she’d seen a werewolf, that could cause trouble for you. How many people actually believe in Sasquatches?”

“About as many as believe in werewolves?” He rubbed his palms on his thighs.

“Right. But don’t worry about it.” She sipped the lemonade. “So you said something like it wasn’t normal for you to tromp through yards in werewolf form. Why were you in my yard the other night? Were you lost? Had you come through the cornfield that backs up to the yard?”

He picked up the lemonade and drank half of it. The man seemed nervous again. Yet much as she shouldn’t push, curiosity was a witch’s best tool when it came to making good choices and weeding out the wrong.

“Well, I mean, aren’t werewolves much more cautious about shifting near humans? And it wasn’t even a full moon.”

“I don’t know why it happened,” he blurted out. “It’s something I’m looking into.”

“Really? Like, something is wrong with you?”

He shrugged. “I went to a doctor a few days ago and he checked me out. Said it was probably nothing to worry about. Might have been sleep shifting.”

“Sleep shifting? I can’t imagine.”

“Neither can I. The doc took a bunch of blood and did some other tests.”

“And?”

“And? Uh, he hasn’t called with the results yet. It’s nothing. I don’t think you have to worry about finding me in your backyard in werewolf shape anytime in the future.”

“Well, I’d rather you in my backyard than Mrs. Henderson’s. You have to be careful.”

“I am,” he said forcefully.

And Mireio took that as a warning to curb the conversation topic. She did love an alpha, but she wasn’t stupid. When you poke a wolf with a stick, it’ll bite.

She prodded the bread crust on her plate. “So you said you’re some kind of security guy?”

“That was just my roundabout way of saying I’m scion of the Northern Pack without actually telling anyone I’m a werewolf.”

“Right. Gotta be careful. But since I know... What does being a scion entail?”

“At the moment? Not much.” He chuckled and his shoulders relaxed. The wicker chair creaked as he settled into it. And those sexy dimples returned. “The pack I grew up in has been shrinking every year. A few years ago, Ridge Addison handed over the principal reins to Dean Maverick, which bumped me up to scion, his second-in-command. But there are only two other pack members at present, and the only one who lives on the compound is Maverick and his woman, Sunday.”

“I know Sunday. She’s good friends with one of The Decadent Dames owners, Valor Hearst.”

“I know Valor. I’ve sold her queen bees for her hives. I’m also a beekeeper. I think I mentioned that last night?”

“That’s so cool. I love bees. They’re so fluffy.”

“And industrious. They fascinate me. And Sunday is awesome. Lately she’s been helping me with...a project.”

Mireio leaned across the table and caught her chin in hand. “What sort of project?”

“Just something—” he held his hands in the air to suggest something bread-basket sized “—small.”

A small project that he obviously didn’t want to talk about. The man was either shy or shifty. Mireio would stick with shy. And he was a cute shy, so that made his reluctance to expound easier to accept. On with the next topic. “You said you’ve been remodeling a house?”

“Yes, my cabin. I’m fixing it up. I intend to add on two rooms to the back before winter. I live about a run away from the pack compound.”

“A run?”

“I can jog back and forth from the cabin to the compound in about five minutes, or take a leisurely stroll in fifteen minutes. I moved into the old, single-room cabin years ago. I’ve got the outhouse all finished, but now—”

“Wait.” Mireio set down her lemonade and sat up straight. “You have an outhouse? Like...no indoor bathroom?”

He laughed, and the sound of it felt like rough water rushing over river stones to Mireio. And for a water witch that was a very sexy sound. “It’s how the place was when I moved in,” he said. “But thanks to my remodeling it’s all modern and has running water with good quality plumbing in the outhouse. Not a hole in a board.”

“Whew! For a second there you had me worried. I’ll have you know the bathroom is the most important room in my house. There are not too many nights I miss my bath.”

“You were taking a bath the night I saw you standing outside the door. Uh, sorry.” He rubbed a palm over his face and swiped across his beard nervously. “I have to stop bringing that up. It’s rude of me.”

“Not rude, just...” Mireio sighed. “So you’ve seen me naked. Just gives you something to desire, doesn’t it?” And she sat back, satisfied that she’d stepped beyond the weirdness of the event and made it something she could control. If not a little weirder. Ha! Go, Mireio! “Anyway, my bathtub is huge. It’s because I’m a mermaid.”

Lars’s jaw dropped open. “You are? So you’re like a mermaid witch?”

“I mean, figuratively I’m a mermaid. I love water. I work water magic. I think I was probably a real mermaid in a past life. You know?”

“I can imagine you swishing around in the sea. But would your hair have been green?”

“Maybe.” She twirled the ends of her hair around a fingertip and fluttered her lashes at him.

And Lars fell into that puppy-dog, lovestruck expression again. Oh, dear, but he had it bad for her. And she wasn’t beyond encouraging him, because now that she was getting to know him, she really liked the strong silent alpha.

Had she intentions to avoid a relationship? Silly witch.

“Mireio!”

At the shrieking female yell, Lars sat up abruptly, kicking the table and upsetting the plates. Mireio made a grab to keep them from falling onto the stone patio. “It’s just Mrs. Henderson,” she said quickly, as if to calm a spooked dog.

The old woman popped around the back corner of the house with a notebook in hand. She wore an olive green pencil skirt that Mireio imagined she’d probably worn in her heyday back in, well...whenever the skirt had been in style. Her black-and-gray hair was piled into a messy bundle atop her narrow skull and on her feet were the ever-present and quite beaten pink bunny slippers.

“Oh.” Mrs. Henderson eyed up Lars. “I didn’t realize you had a guest, Mireio.”

“Mrs. Henderson, this is Lars Gunderson. Lars, Mrs. Henderson, my next-door neighbor. We were just finishing lunch. And I have a loaf of oatmeal rye for you that I’ll bring over once it’s cooled, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. You’re always so generous with the baked goods. And quite a talent too.” She still couldn’t drag her assessing gaze from Lars as she held out the notebook before her. “I don’t mean to interrupt but I wanted to show you the sketch I made of the—” she dropped her voice to a whisper “—you-know-what we saw the other night.”

Mireio glanced to Lars, who, no doubt, had figured what the woman was talking about, but he didn’t show that he had.

“Lars, was it?” Mrs. Henderson asked him. She tilted her head, taking him in with a discerning gaze. “Have we met before? You seem very familiar.”

“Never,” Mireio blurt out. “I mean, we’ve only just met, so of course you’ve never seen him here or in my yard before. Let me see what you’ve drawn, Mrs. Henderson. It’s okay. I mentioned the, uh, incident to Lars. So he’s in on it.”

“Oh?” The woman’s eyes brightened, pleased to have another conspirator present. “She told you about the Sasquatch?”

“That she did.” He leaned his elbows onto his knees, giving her his full attention. “You must have been frightened something fierce.”

“Who me? Oh, gosh, no. I may have been initially surprised to see such a big, ugly, hulking beast tromping through my prized tulips, but that didn’t stop me from getting a very good look at the monster.”

Lars’s jaw tensed. It was a good thing he wasn’t holding the glass of lemonade because Mireio guessed his clenched fingers might have sent shards flying.

Mrs. Henderson laid the notebook down on the table and Mireio turned it so both she and Lars could look at the—quite talented—sketch of what looked similar to an ape-like man with long hairy fingers and a hunched back and shoulders. The head was all wrong, not matching the werewolf’s actual wolf head and long toothy maw, but instead more resembling a man with large ears and a flat monkeylike snout.

“Remarkable,” Mireio said with a secret glance and smile to Lars.

“Is it how you remembered the beast too?” Mrs. Henderson asked eagerly. “I intend to bring this sketch in to the police, but I’m still not so sure I got the nose right.”

“Oh. Well...” Mireio shrugged. “I didn’t get a very good look at it. I had initially thought it was a moose...but I’m sure what you’ve drawn here is very close.”

“But you said it stopped and stared at you for a moment. Surely you must have seen details? Did you look into its big glowing yellow eyes?”

Mireio met Lars’s lift of his brows. He was smirking now, thank the goddess. He obviously understood there was no fear of him being found out with such a drastically wrong drawing, no matter who the woman showed it to.

“Maybe a little longer,” she said, tapping the nose. “And did you get the tail?”

“The tail?” Mrs. Henderson picked up the sketch and studied it. “I’m not sure I remember...oh. Sure. A tail. Of course, Sasquatches have tails.”

“Do they?” Lars asked.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Henderson replied with knowing authority. “I’ll have to add that. Thank you, Mireio. Oh.” She placed a hand on Lars’s shoulder. “Will you be around more often? To, you know, keep an eye on our sweet Mireio?”

“Uh...”

“I think I hear the oven timer for the last loaf of bread,” Mireio interrupted. “We’ll talk later, Mrs. Henderson. Lars, would you help me bring in the dishes?”

“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Henderson,” he offered as he dutifully and quickly followed Mireio’s escape route into the kitchen.

The two of them watched out the window until Mrs. Henderson had turned the corner at the back of the house, then they both started laughing.

“That was the most awful rendition of—” she made air quotes “—�the monster,’ I’ve seen. You don’t look anything like that.”

“Yes, I’m relieved. Must be interesting having that woman living next door, eh?”

“Never a dull moment.” She opened the oven door, which emitted a whoosh of delicious bread scent.

“Mmm, now that scent will lead me back to your door over and over.”

“Good,” she said decisively. “Because I like you, Lars. I’m glad you had the courage to approach me last night. Maybe we can do this again tomorrow night? More like an official date? Because right now I have to go change and head in to work.”

“I’d like that. Ah, but tomorrow night won’t work. I won’t be able to find a...” He winced, pausing to think his words through. “I have a previous engagement. It’s not with another woman. Just something I can’t get out of. How about this Saturday?”

Two days away. “Saturday works for me. But you’ll have to pick me up at the brewery because I have the early shift.”

“It’s a date.”

“Great! Let me wrap up a loaf of bread for you to take along.” She pulled out some brown paper she kept for wrapping baked goods, and with a few folds and tucks fitted it perfectly about a warm loaf and handed it to him.

He took the gift and then glanced to the front door. Back to her. He rubbed a hand along his thigh. “Yes, I suppose I should leave. Thank you for lunch. It was really good.”

“It wasn’t that great. But you’re a guy. Usually guys like any food that’s been made for them that isn’t a TV dinner.”

“So you’ve seen the inside of my freezer?”

He smiled, and she fell into that pretty white gleam of his. He had no idea the impact those pearly whites had on her. And was she blushing? Parts of her suddenly felt very hot.

“Uh. Right. Then I suppose I should go.” He turned, but didn’t walk to the front door.

So Mireio stepped up before him, sensing what he couldn’t say or do. And finding it sweetly endearing. “Did you want to kiss me before you leave?”

He nodded. Eagerly, but with a sheepish shrug. “I wasn’t sure it would be okay.”

The guy had scored one simply by being a sweet, uncomfortable lunk of shy. Mireio crooked her finger, gesturing that he should bow down, and when he got close enough to kiss, she met his lips with hers.

His mouth was not tentative, finding its place against hers with a surety and the promise of more confidence than his speech gave. He didn’t open her mouth, but he lingered, and the pressure of him against her worked a delicious tingle in her core. Mmm, now that was a very not-shy kiss.

When they parted, his eyes darted back and forth between hers. Then his dimples dented his cheeks and his smile caught up. “Saturday can’t come fast enough.” He kissed her quickly, and then turned to leave.

Standing on the threshold and watching his long strides out to his pickup truck, Mireio touched her lips and whispered a blessing for the fact she’d not been a stuck-up witch last night and had decided to talk to the man.

“Good call,” she said to herself. “May the witch and the werewolf get along. At the very least, have some fun.”

* * *

Well past the midnight hour, Mireio startled from her sleep and cried out. She sat up, seeking in the darkness for a creature—with fangs. Heartbeat thundering, she pressed a palm to her chest and, realizing she’d had another nightmare, breathed deeply in and out to calm her fears.

It was always the same. The vampire stood before her holding a bloody heart that dripped onto the toes of her white shoes, forever staining her memories of a younger, more innocent time.

She hadn’t had a nightmare in over a year, but the fact it had returned now disturbed her. She had to perform the immortality spell. But if so focused on preparing for the spell, could she then also concentrate on dating the shy but sexy werewolf?

“Am I doing the right thing?” she whispered into the night.

No one answered. Which was a good thing. That meant she was alone. No creepy vampire anywhere near her. Yet the only way to ensure she was safe from vampires was to rip the heart out of one of them and consume its blood.

She dropped back into the pillows and closed her eyes tightly.


Chapter 4 (#ub6b27147-1cde-5aa6-92e2-d6e59c0443c7)

Saturday evening Lars stopped into the brewery. Mireio was ready to go, waiting for him by the door. She bounced on her high heels and her short multiruffled purple skirt caught his eye. And dangling near that skirt was the black fish purse. The woman was a character. And she was going out with him tonight.

He was the luckiest guy in the world.

Mireio waved goodbye to a woman behind the bar with dark hair and a calm, knowing smile, whom Lars waved to, as well. He hadn’t been introduced, but did know Valor Hearst, who also worked here. She and Sunday, his pack leader’s wife, were friends, so Valor popped up at the compound once in a while. They always chatted bees for a while when she did so.

“Where are we going tonight?” Mireio asked as she joined him and slipped her hand into his.

Momentarily captivated by the warm slender hand in his, Lars took a few seconds to answer. It actually took a squeeze from her hand to lure him back to what she’d asked.

“Uh, where? There’s a new place in Tangle Lake. Supposed to be fancy and the scenery is pretty cool. You like a steak house?”

“Sure. I like all food. Your hand is so big and—” she turned it over to inspect as they strolled toward the parking lot “—rough. You must do a lot of physical labor.”

“I’ve cleared out some fallen oaks from the forest near my place, so I’ve been chopping and stacking wood for winter fires. As well as doing some repair work on the plank path that leads to the outhouse.”

“I need to see that outhouse one of these days. I can’t imagine having to walk outside to get to the bathroom.”

“I’m sure your bathroom with the big tub puts my little outhouse to shame.”

“Oh, I’m sure it does.” She skipped a few steps up to the charcoal gray truck. “This is yours? You men and your big trucks. You’re going to have to boost me up for this one.”

He opened the passenger door for her and held her hand as she stepped onto the lower step. Even then she had to stretch up a leg, and...he put a hand to her hip to guide her. He wanted to give a shove to that sweet little derriere, but that might be too forward. He was the kind of guy who would never manhandle a woman. Unless she’d given him permission to do so. And then he would enjoy touching her with abandon.

“I’m in!” she announced with a clap. “Let’s do this!”

Chuckling at her enthusiasm, Lars rounded the front of the truck and hopped inside and started the engine. “How’s business tonight?”

“It’s a Saturday,” she said as he drove out of the lot. “Comedy night.”

“Really? Like stand-up?”

“Yes, and tonight is locals only. It’s a big hit. There are some ridiculously hilarious people living in Anoka.”

“You like music?” he asked, turning on the radio low.

“I love the oldies stuff like the ’80s tunes.”

“I think I know the station for you.” He turned the dial to an ’80s hit station, one of his favorites too, despite having missed the era because he’d been born in the late ’80s. Culture Club was playing and Mireio gave him a thumbs-up.

“Did you eat all the bread I sent home with you?” she asked.

“Most of it. Had sandwiches for lunch, with enough left for a French toast breakfast tomorrow. You make great bread.”

“You’ll have to stop by when I’m in a cupcake-baking mood.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Temptation is my thing, don’t you know?”

He waggled his brows at her.

She giggled. “You’re starting to loosen up around me. You were pretty shy initially.”

He shrugged as he turned onto the freeway that would take them to their destination. “You’re just so pretty. I admit I’m intimidated by most women. You’re all so...tiny.”

“That is understandable, coming from a big beast of a man. How tall are you?”

“Six and a half feet? Something like that.”

“Good thing I like wearing heels. Oh! I love this song!”

Adam Ant’s “Desperate But Not Serious” started playing and Lars turned it up. He would never consider himself desperate for a woman. But would he like to get serious with one? Hell yes. And Mireio Malory seemed a very good option.

* * *

The view was gorgeous, as promised. They sat on a patio situated about thirty feet from the lakeshore. The sun settled above the jagged line of pines across the lake, casting pink and silver shimmers on the water and the night air was surprisingly warm for spring. A fountain nestled in the center of the small lake burbled and a pair of white swans floated close by. Fortunately it was too early in the season for mosquitoes.

The brown butter shrimp with Gouda grits was excellent. The red wine sweet and not too dry. And the man sharing shy glances with her was slowly moving up to broadcasting more confidence in his brown eyes.

Mireio had never dated a man who wasn’t in her face and always dropping innuendos about them doing it. Sure, she had dated a few who were polite, but none so sweetly masculine and devastatingly charming as this guy. A werewolf? She’d dated witches, faeries and once even a demon. But a wolf was new to her, and she was excited about the possibilities of learning more about this sweetie.

“I lost the muskie after that struggle,” Lars said, ending his tale about ice fishing without an ice house or a line in the middle of what had turned into an ice storm.

“Do wolves have a greater affinity for cold weather?” she wondered.

“Yes, we can handle the Minnesota winters well. But I do like to bundle up when I know a storm is headed our way. That one took me by surprise. Froze my beard something fierce.”

“Ha! I hope you had someone to help you defrost it with snuggly kisses.”

He shrugged, that bashful move that endeared her to his big, awkward appeal. “I was out with the guys. We never mix fishing and women. You ladies just don’t get it.”

“Oh, I think Valor is into ice fishing. But there are times I wonder if she’s more a guy than a girl. I don’t think I’d like to lie on the ice and dip my hand in the cold waters in hopes a fish will find me of interest,” she said. Which was exactly how Lars had explained they’d done it. “I admit the winter bothers me. I need a big thick sweater to keep from constantly shivering. I prefer spring and summer. And warmth.”

“Your tail would freeze in the winter,” he said with a wink.

“Which tail are you talking about?” she asked teasingly.

“Both?”

“Ha!” She tilted her wine goblet to his and he met it with a tink. “To breezy summers and warm winter nights. And while we’re at it, let’s toss in a long life of immortal dreams.”

“Immortal dreams?”

She shrugged. “It’s a witch thing. Just a spell I’ve had on my mind lately. Anyway, back to the fishing. I certainly hope to never get hooked by a fisherman anytime soon.”

“Is that so?”

“He’d rip my tail. And besides, we mermaids would never be caught swimming in any of Minnesota’s ten thousand icy lakes.”

“What sort of bait do you think would attract a mermaid?”

She leaned across the table and the small heat from the candle warmed her cheek. “Kindness and a sexy shy smile.”

And there it was again! Those dimples were mermaid bait for sure. But to think about it, she’d hooked him. And this was one catch she wasn’t eager to toss back.

The waitress stopped by with the bill and Lars dug out his wallet from a back pocket and handed her his credit card.

“So what do you like to do for fun?” he asked. “I’ve already marked ice fishing off the potential date list.”

“I don’t have to be entertained in any wild or elaborate fashion. A movie. A book club. Dancing, or even just sitting in a park. I’m a chick who can find fun in most anything.”

“I get that. You’re what they call one of those eclectic women,” he said with a wink. “Your bright hair and frilly clothes tell me that.”

“How else is a girl supposed to dress?”

“You won’t hear me complaining. But what’s with the purse?”

She lifted her purse. A cool find on Etsy, crafted from black suede in layers that emulated a fish with scales. “Mermaid, remember?”

“Right. Let me guess... You’re the chick at the summer festivals with the flowers in your hair, dancing in the mud with bare feet and not a care?”

“You got it.”

“I think I’m the guy always standing off to the side, wondering if that beautiful blossom of a chick will ever notice him.”

She placed her hand over his. “I have noticed you, Lars. And I think you’re pretty cool. I’ll get you in daisies and bare feet before the summer is out. Promise.”

“I’d actually wear daisies for you. So why don’t we...” He paused, staring off over the lake with the swans floating by.

The pause was...quite long. “Lars?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, lost my train of thought. What were we talking about?”

Daisies and flirtation. “Nothing much.” But it was time to move it up to the next level. “Now do you know what I want to do?”

“What?”

“You said you live close?”

“About ten miles north.”

“Then I want to see this mysterious outhouse with the modern plumbing.”

He smirked and collected his credit card as the waitress swung by with it. But instead of dimples, he rubbed his jaw, with a wince. “I’m not sure. I have to make a stop on the way home, actually...”

“Am I being too forward? I’m not suggesting anything. I mean, am I? Maybe? If you’re not ready to take me home with you, just for chatting, I get that. You’re a guy who works more slowly than most.”

“Not at all. I can do fast. I’m very fast. I mean...” He swiped his fingers over his beard in what Mireio was learning was a nervous gesture. “I want to spend more time with you tonight, Mireio. I just, uh...well...” A heavy sigh surprised her. “You’ll need to know sooner rather than later. Guess now’s as good a time as any.”

“That sounds absolutely mysterious. But I’m in. Let’s go!”

Ten minutes later, they drove up the long driveway to the Northern Pack compound, which was where Lars had to make a stop. It wasn’t like a big military compound, which Mireio had expected, but rather a white plantation-style home with a massive tin-sided building out back that housed all kinds of building materials and lots of junk.

“So none of the pack members live here except Dean and Sunday?”

“Nope. We all live in the area, though. Packs used to share close living conditions, but you know, it’s the twenty-first century. We like our privacy as much as we like the family we get from being in the pack.” He parked before the house and swung around to open the door.

Just when she thought to step down, he lifted her and swung her out, setting her down carefully until she could get a sure footing with her heels on the gravel drive. How many times had a man helped her in and out of a vehicle? Exactly twice. Both of those times had been tonight. She could get used to this kind of chivalry.

“Shall we?” He offered his hand and that pushed her over the edge and into a giddy swoon.

She clasped his hand and beamed as he led her toward the front door, which opened to reveal a waving Sunday. The chick sported long, white-blond hair and was built like Valor—straight—and she seemed accustomed to hanging out in jeans and greasy T-shirts as opposed to frills and lace. She was a cat-shifting familiar, married to Dean Maverick, a werewolf and the pack principal.

“Hey, Lars!” A shout from near the storage building drew their attention to Dean standing near a huge steel beam he held at a diagonal, one end of it digging into the ground. “Come give me a hand!”

“Be right back,” Lars said. “Uh, you know Sunday?”

“We’ve met once,” Sunday confirmed.

Lars winked at Mireio. “This won’t take a minute!”

“Hey, Mireio.” Sunday gestured she come inside and held the screen door open for her. “I didn’t know you and Lars were a thing.”

She entered the house, which was dimly lit. The sun had set, and the soft kitchen lights gleamed on the white marble kitchen counter and copper toaster.

“Lars and I just started seeing one another. First official date tonight. Oh!” She spied a munchkin sitting in a baby seat on the kitchen table and her maternal instincts rushed her to check it out. “Who is this little sweetie? Can I hold him?”

“Sure, I just fed him. We call him Peanut.”

Mireio picked up the warm bundle of blue fleece and baby softness and he nuzzled against her chest. The scent of warm baby was better than baked bread or chocolate any day. She rubbed her palm lightly over the thick crop of black hair swished to a wave on top of his head. “So much hair! And it sticks straight up. Adorable. How old is he?”

“Uh, about four months?” Sunday leaned against the counter, her T-shirt falling from one bare shoulder and her hair a little tangled as if she’d been through a tough day. Or she simply wasn’t a fashion queen and didn’t often bother to comb her hair.

“Did you and Dean adopt?” Mireio knew, from Valor, that Sunday couldn’t have kids. Well, she could, but a cat shifter simply could not make a baby with a werewolf. Just didn’t work that way.

“No. He’s uh...” Sunday straightened and scratched her head. “You don’t know who Peanut is?”

“Should I?”

The front door opened and Lars and Dean wandered in, chuckling about almost dropping the steel beam, but finally getting it loaded into the back of Dean’s truck. Lars took one look at Mireio holding the baby and activated the nervous beard swipe.

“Hey,” she offered. “Isn’t he the cutest little button ever? He’s called Peanut.”

“I know that.” Lars exchanged glances with Sunday.

“I’ll leave you two.” The cat shifter left the kitchen swiftly, grabbing her husband’s hand and heading toward the front door. Dean protested with a “What’s up?” as his wife tugged him outside.

“What was that about?” Mireio bounced as she held the baby. It was a natural motion, instilled from years of babysitting. His plump little body felt so good snuggled against her breast and neck. Someday she would have a million kids. Or at the very least three or four. “She must be babysitting for someone, huh?”

“She is.” Lars smoothed his hand over the baby’s hair. “Peanut is mine, Mireio.”

“What?”

“He’s my son.”


Chapter 5 (#ub6b27147-1cde-5aa6-92e2-d6e59c0443c7)

Mireio blinked a few times, then realized Lars was talking about the baby she cuddled against her shoulder. He held out his arms for the boy, and she handed him over. The big hulking werewolf gently cradled the sleeping infant in his arms as if he were a wise old granny who had been doing so for generations. He stroked the baby’s hair and kissed his forehead.

“He’s a sweetie,” she offered because she was taken aback. But then she realized she was only surprised because she’d never expected such from Lars. “You’re not married, are you?” came out too quickly.

He snickered and began to rock the baby with a gentle bounce. “No.”

“Good. I mean—well, I don’t date married men.”

“I would never be so cruel to another woman. He’s my boy, Mireio. I wasn’t going to tell you like this. And I thought I’d wait a bit longer. But when you suggested I show you my place I figured now was as good a time as any. If you’re not into kids, that’s cool. At least you found out early on and can walk away.”

“No.” She touched his arm, and tapped the baby’s tiny fingers. “I adore babies. And I’m fine with this. I mean, we’re not lovers or anything. We’ve only seen each other a few times.”

“Sure.” But his wince told her he had high hopes for what might happen between them.

And she did too. Did she still have such high hopes with the introduction of this little number? It shouldn’t change things. This was all a bit sudden and new. But if the guy had a baby, then she could deal.

“Let’s take things as they come, okay?” She waited for Lars to meet her eyes. And when he did, she winked at him. “You should probably get this little guy home and tucked in.”

“Yes, and he needs to be changed too. I uh...” He grimaced again. “I took the car seat out for our date tonight because, well, like I’ve said, I wasn’t sure when or how to spring this on you. Usually I walk through the forest to drop him off and pick him up. Would you mind driving the truck to my cabin? It’s just a winding road from here.”

“That big monster truck?” Mireio gulped.

“I’ll help you move the seat forward so you can reach the pedals.”

“Do you trust me?”

He pressed his head against the baby’s head and kissed his nose. And Mireio suddenly realized that the man probably trusted her more with the vehicle than he did with his child.

“Hand me the keys. I can do this.”

* * *

The path through the woods had been there for decades. Lars knew that the very first pack members had built the compound and the cabin where he lived. He liked having his own place and had lived there alone since he was fourteen. But also, when the pack had been larger, he’d liked being close to friends, whom he also considered family. Now, it was nice for the two-mile distance between the places because babysitting was just a wander through the woods.

Sunday had been the one to suggest he get away from the cabin and go out and have a little fun. Lars had been cooped up with Peanut for months and generally walked around with baby spit on his shoulders, and who knew when he’d last washed his hair?

Yet in the process of “getting out” he’d hooked up with a pretty woman.

“I sure hope she likes us both,” he said as he strode the beaten path over fallen leaves, cracking branches and crops of mushrooms that edged the lane. “What do you think, Peanut?”

The boy was awake and alert, taking in the surroundings, even though it was dark. Lars pressed a kiss to his bushy crop of thick hair. He loved that stuff. It was soft and black and smelled like nothing he’d ever known but everything he wanted to have forever.

Had he done things wrong tonight? Should he have kept Peanut a secret until he felt sure that he and Mireio might have a real thing between them?

No, better to give her opportunity to run now before they did get to know one another. And better for him. He’d hate to fall in love with her and then lose her because he had a baby. Much as she had claimed to enjoy babies, being a parent was different. It required dedication and sacrifice. And love.

Lars had never been in love. Until now. He hugged Peanut and strode swiftly toward the truck lights that approached his cabin.

He arrived at the truck in time to help Mireio down and tell her how to turn the lights off. The truck really was a monster in her hands, but she’d gotten here safely.

“Whew!” she said when she stood on the ground beside him. “That thing is huge and the road is narrow and winding. I think I just passed some kind of endurance test! Hey! Don’t laugh at me, you little giggle butt,” she said to Peanut.

Lars high-fived her and nodded that she should follow him in. “The road is crazy twisty. I’ve considered getting a smaller truck, but I haul a lot of wood and well...” He opened the front door, which he never kept locked and gestured she enter before him. “I do like a big truck.”

“Men and their toys.” Her heels clicked across the clean wood floor. “Wow, this place is cute. It’s all just the one room?”

She turned, taking in the living area with the blue-and-green-plaid couch and low table made from half an oak trunk. The kitchen offered a small fridge, a porcelain sink and an old gas stove. A round kitchen table sat at the end of the foyer, which was right before them. Immediately to their right stood the queen-size bed hemmed in by a clothes rack against a wall. Peanut’s crib was wedged between the clothes and the end of the bed.

“This is it.” Lars grabbed a diaper from a shelf above the clothes rack and laid Peanut on the bed. “I gotta change him. I hope you don’t mind. There’s beer and water in the fridge.”

“Sure. Looks like he’s wide-awake now,” she said as she rummaged around in the fridge.

“Peanut loves walking through the woods. Don’t you?” He toyed with the baby’s bare toes as the infant stretched out his legs. He always did that once diaper-free. Like, oh, yes, Daddy, let me dry out and be a nudist for a while. “Soon you’ll be running through the woods and putting your daddy through the wringer of keeping up with you.”

“What is his name?” Mireio asked as she sat before the kitchen table with a bottle of water.

“Peanut.” He secured the diaper tapes and replaced his son’s onesie snaps. He tossed the diaper into the bin, which he emptied every night, and then got a bottle of milk he’d poured this morning from the fridge. He set it in the pot on the stove half-filled with water and turned on the heat. It took only minutes to get a nice warmth to the milk.

“You named your son Peanut?” He could sense the dismay in her tone. “That’s...unique.”

Lars sat next to her before the table. “I don’t know his real name. His mother didn’t tell me it before she ran off. And the name on the birth certificate simply says �baby boy.’ I thought he sort of melded against me like a little peanut when I held him against my chest, so...it works for now.”

“Peanut. Sure. But you are going to give him a name?”

Lars shrugged. “When the right one comes to me. I have up to a year to fill it in on the birth certificate.”

“Sounds fair enough. Oh, don’t get up. I’ll check the milk.” She tested the milk against her wrist, then sat down and handed it to him. “Cool, but just about right. So...do I get to ask you about Peanut’s mom and where she is and why you’re doing the single-daddy thing? Oh. Did she die?”

“No, she’s not dead, and yes, ask me anything you like.”

Because that meant she was open to the conversation, and maybe he might still have a chance with her.

“I want to know whatever you’re comfortable telling me.” She pointed to the baby sucking voraciously at the bottle. “Explain that little bundle of sweetness and wild rock-star hair.”

She hadn’t made an excuse to leave yet. And she wasn’t standing by the door, eyeing the escape. So Lars marked himself as lucky. So far, so good.

“All right, here goes. I spent a few nights with Peanut’s mom last year. It was a two-night stand kind of thing. We met in a nightclub in downtown Minneapolis. We weren’t drunk, but you know how sometimes you just want to get close with another person?”

She nodded knowingly. “Oh, yeah.”

“And the feeling was mutual,” he continued. “So, you know, it happened. She stayed the day and a second night, then told me it had been fun, and she was moving on. She traveled a lot for her job as a photojournalist. Was hoping to get an assignment in Africa that would last for years. I marked it off as a fun couple of nights and life went on. Human women, you know...”

He shifted to tilt up Peanut a bit so the baby wouldn’t get gassy from sucking in air from the bottle.

“What about human women?” Mireio asked.

“It’s hard for we werewolves to have a relationship with someone who is going to freak out the minute she sees you shift. We can’t trust that secret with just anyone.”

“You can trust a witch.”

“I know that.” He winked at her and she smiled and wiggled on her chair. “Ten months after that hookup I get a knock on the door and the surprise of my life. She didn’t want a baby. Didn’t need one messing up her life. And she got the African assignment. So she said it was my choice. She could put the baby up for adoption, or I could take him.”

Mireio’s jaw dropped open. Then she closed it. “Wow. Tough choice for a young, single man.”

“Not really. I took one look at this little peanut and knew I had to have him in my life.”

“Really? Have you always liked kids? Babies? Usually men aren’t so paternal.”

“I have never been around kids much. Never even held a baby before this guy.”

“How did you even trust that he was yours?”

“She does ask the questions, doesn’t she?” Lars said to Peanut. “I just knew. But also, his mom said I should get a DNA test, and she even had the forms and details on how to do it, along with all the info she’d written down for Peanut’s feeding schedule. She was an orderly woman. And she said she knew he was mine because she hadn’t had sex with a guy after me for months.”

“Did you do the test?”

“I did. Peanut is one hundred percent mine. But I knew that before I got the test results.”

“How did you know?”

He beamed at her. “My heart told me he was mine. But also, could you imagine putting this little sweetie up for adoption?”

“He is a sweetie. But he might have made some other family happy too. Adoption isn’t horrible.”

“I know that.”

“Oh, but wait. Is he werewolf?”

Lars shrugged. “Not sure. His mom is human, but human women can give birth to our babies, and they can be werewolf. But I won’t know until Peanut hits puberty. Another good reason not to put him up for adoption. Could you imagine human parents discovering their adopted son, once he hits puberty, suddenly shifts to a wolf?”

“So his mom didn’t know you were werewolf?”

“No need for me to tell her. You know it’s not wise to share stuff like that with humans. How many people do you tell you’re a witch?”

“Zero. Unless I get a feeling about them. Like you. Aw, look, he’s sleeping. Sweet little Peanut. You really should give him a name, though.”

“I’m working on it. I have to go to the county office and do a name change. I’m already on the birth certificate as the father. Peanut’s mom had the foresight to do that, so he’s got my last name.”

“That was smart. Oh. Can I hold him?”

“Uh...” Lars set the bottle on the table and studied her pleading yet smiling look. When he’d walked in at Dean’s place to find her holding Peanut, he’d initially felt angry. What right had she to barge in and take hold of his child? But then he’d realized she hadn’t even known who the baby was then.

Now? He was being foolish. Possessive. And with every right to be so.

“Oh, sorry.” She sat back. “You’re his daddy. I’m sure he needs you to tuck him in.”

“He sleeps through most of the night after his final bottle. I’ll put him down.”

Once he’d tucked Peanut in, and left him uncovered because it was warm tonight, Lars then rinsed the bottle and dried it while Mireio got up to admire the lamp base on the table beside the couch.

“This is beautiful,” she said of the carved pine column. “It’s so intricate. I can see deer and squirrels and that looks like a swan. Did you do this?”

Lars shrugged and nodded. “There’s a lot of wood out here. Sometimes I see something in the wood that needs to come out.”

“Like Michelangelo and his marble sculptures. You’re an artist.”

“No, I’m just a regular guy who amuses himself with a hammer and chisel once in a while.” He set the bottle on the rack above the sink and then approached her. He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “So, I know this is a lot of baggage I’ve unpacked here. And I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. I wasn’t even in the market for dating, but then Sunday said I needed to get out, have some fun. And after that morning at your place, there were the lilacs. It was almost like I had to find you. Then I did. I think it’s better you know right away.”

“Lars, don’t worry. There are a lot of single parents nowadays. And we’re not serious. Just having fun, right?”

“Right.”

“Oh, and if Sunday can’t babysit, call me. I adore babies. Would love to have a couple, or twelve, of my own someday.”

“I’ll remember that.” He sat on the couch and she sat next to him, which he took as a good sign that she didn’t want to leave right away.

“That is, if you can trust me with Peanut. I have babysat a lot.”

“Oh, I trust you.”

“Yeah? But you didn’t want me to hold him just now at the table.”

“Sorry. He’s my boy and...well, you’re new.”

“I get it.” She clasped his hand. “You’re a protective alpha wolf. Do not apologize for that. Ever. Now. I want to see this strange but interesting bathroom. Can we slip out with Peanut sleeping?”

“Yep. I’ve got a baby monitor in the bathroom so I can hear him if I’m taking a shower. But I promise you, it’s nothing to get excited about.”

“Any outhouse that isn’t two holes in a slab of wood is exciting.”

* * *

Through the crisp darkness, surrounded by cricket chatter, they followed a plank path back to the outhouse. The bathroom was indeed a small room with a toilet, shower and tub, and vanity. Plain but serviceable. But Mireio decided it would be a bitch in the winter if a person woke in the middle of the night needing to answer the call of nature.

“No holes dug in the ground,” Lars offered as they stepped out into the night air.

He pointed out the wildflower field that backed onto his property behind the outhouse and the beehives he kept. He had eight stacks right now and would divide them in the fall and probably gain three more in the process. He’d promised to take some of Valor’s bees when she divided the hives that she tended from the rooftop of her apartment building in Tangle Lake.

“So you’re a keeper,” Mireio commented, loving herself for the pun.

“I am? Oh. Uh, yes. A beekeeper.”

She felt sure he blushed in the darkness. The man certainly was a keeper.

After the grand tour, Mireio suggested they call it a night. She’d felt bad he’d had to take Peanut out of his crib, but the infant had slept through being buckled into his car seat and the twenty-minute drive back to Anoka, and even her accidental slamming of the truck door when she got out at the sidewalk before her house.

“Can I call you?” Lars asked as he stepped down from the sidewalk to stand on the tarmac, which put their heights a little closer.

“I certainly hope so. Hey, how about an afternoon with Peanut tomorrow? I have to go in to work for a few hours in the morning. Valor and I are kegging the stout. But I’m free after one. We could go to a park and have a picnic?”

“I’d like that. You sure you’re okay with this, Mireio?”

She shrugged. “I am right now. If I think about it awhile? Who knows? But I don’t think I’ll change my mind. I’m enjoying getting to know you. You are certainly an interesting man.”

“Maybe a little too interesting, eh?”

“Better that than dull, right?” She laughed, but stopped abruptly. “So tomorrow it’s a date.”

“Should I pick you up at the brewery?”

“Yes.” She tilted up on her tiptoes to meet the kiss that he did not pause to give her this time. His breath tasted like the wine they’d shared over supper, and his beard brushed her cheek softly. And when she started to pull away he dipped in for a firm press that won her completely. She sighed into the kiss and drew her fingers down the ends of his long hair. Mmm, he was some kind of all right. “I do enjoy these not-so-shy kisses.”

“Me too. I would kiss you longer but...” He glanced over to the running truck.

“I’m glad you told me about Peanut. You two are adorable together. We’re going to have fun, the three of us.”

Lars turned and waved as he got in the truck. And Mireio hugged herself and recalled that the man had given her a choice to walk away now if she wanted to.

Did she want to walk away? Could she handle dating a man with a baby? Neither option felt easy. And she needed easy right now. Because that would counter the nightmares and her wariness over performing the immortality spell.


Chapter 6 (#ub6b27147-1cde-5aa6-92e2-d6e59c0443c7)

Areas of the park were overgrown with wildflowers stretching as high as Lar’s waist in some spots. They’d picnicked with egg salad sandwiches, fresh veggies and blueberry lemonade in mason jars. While Mireio packed up the basket, Lars wandered into the flowers with Peanut, pointing out the yellow sunflowers. He held out his hand and a bee buzzed closer, probably attracted to his movement. He never flinched. Bees would not sting a person unless they were given reason to do so. And he intended to teach Peanut to not fear the insect, and to also respect it.

“That’s a dragonfly.” He stood still as the insect hovered but four feet from him. Strapped to his chest in a baby sling, Peanut stretched out his arms and cooed. “Yes, you like bugs? Of course you do. But you mustn’t squish them. Insects are good. Especially the bees. Like that one. See the fat sacks of pollen on her legs? She’s going to make honey with that. And then we can eat it.”

Though he’d read not to give an infant honey in his first year. Or had the pediatrician told him that? He needed to get a guide or book on all the things a parent should do and watch out for. This whole baby thing was new to him. He was walking a tightrope with Peanut, and didn’t want to wobble off the line.

“We’ll find a book or something,” he said to Peanut.

“A book on what?” Having taken off her shoes, Mireio joined him. A camera dangled from around her neck. She took some shots of a bright purple coneflower. Bending, she plucked a few tiny white daisies.

“A baby book,” he said. “I need something that’ll tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. I was telling Peanut about honey. I know that’s a no-no for the first year.”

“Right. There are great books out there for parents. Dr. Sears or the What to Expect books. They cover a baby’s first year, telling you what changes they go through monthly and about their growth.”

“Sounds like exactly what I need. Can we stop by a bookstore on the way back into town?”

“For sure! But only if you don’t mind me checking out the books on beer. I’m looking for a new and interesting recipe.”

“Deal.” He turned and fist-bumped her. “You a photographer too?”

“Me? No. But I like to take pictures of flowers and bugs. I have a macro lenses that I usually use. Takes amazingly detailed shots, but I forgot it today. I do have one of my pictures hanging up behind my bed.”

“I’ll have to check it out sometime.” Lars wandered forward then, with a wince, realized what he’d said. Check out the picture or her bed?

Well, he’d like to do both. In good time.

Spying a thick crop of wild grass, he sat on it and laid back with Peanut snuggling up to his chest. “Ah, this is the life. The sun is high and warm and I don’t have a care.”

Mireio leaned over him and snapped a few pictures. “Do you mind? You two look adorable lying there. He really is a little peanut all curled up on his daddy’s chest.”

“Go for it.”

“Oh, wait. I forgot the daisies.” She pushed a couple daisies into his beard. “I did tell you I’d have you in daisies, didn’t I?”

“That you did.” He even managed to smile, eyes closed against the sun, as she snapped the camera above him and Peanut.

After a few shots, she sat in the grass next to them and set down the camera. Tilting her head back to allow the sun to beam across her face, her hair tickled Lars’s cheek. It was the color of overripe tomatoes, with a hint of golden sunshine within the strands. If her hair had a flavor, he decided it would be tangy cherry with a burst of lemon.

How had he gotten so lucky as to find a pretty girl who liked to spend time with him and his baby boy? While Dean Maverick had teasingly suggested that babies were chick bait, Lars had known that it wouldn’t be so simple as strolling in to catch a woman’s eye for more than a few oohs and aahs. But for some reason Mireio had stuck around after the initial reveal. So far.

He wouldn’t count his blessings too soon. This thing they were doing was new and, as she’d pointed out, they were just having fun. So he had best stop worrying and get to the enjoying part.

“How about ice cream?” he suddenly said. “I don’t think I’ve had any since I was a kid.”

“Seriously?” Her blue eyes beamed above him. “There’s a shop not far from here. And I’m pretty sure a bookstore sits a couple stores down from that. What do you think, Peanut?” She stroked his fuzzy crop of dark hair. “Aw, he’s sleeping. All tuckered out from the sunshine. We’d better get him inside so he doesn’t overheat.”

“Overheat? Do babies do that?”

“Well, he’s not going to blow his top, but yes, his tender newborn skin will burn much easier than ours does.”

“Darn it, and here I thought the sunshine was good for him.” Lars sat up and tugged the blanket over Peanut’s head.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s not going to fry. Lars, you’re a great dad. You’ve some amazing instincts about taking care of a baby. Don’t question yourself so much.”

“It’s hard not to do so. I’ve never done this before. Sometimes I feel like I’m a little bug standing in the middle of this big field, trying to keep my baby bug alive.”

“You’re doing great.” She kissed him then. A soft, slow kiss that tasted his mouth and dipped her tongue across his bottom lip. It was a sweet connection that promised more. When she pulled away, she plucked the flowers from his beard and tucked them into her hair over one ear. “Let’s get ice cream.”

* * *

When they stopped by the bookstore, Peanut was fussing, so Lars stayed in the truck to change him while Mireio dashed in for the baby book and then skipped a few stores down to grab ice cream to go. They headed to her house, and by the time they arrived, Peanut was giggling and blowing bubbles every time she shook her bright hair before him.

“You must have grown up with brothers and sisters,” Lars commented as they strolled into her house.

“Nope. I was an only child. I started babysitting when I was ten. Every penny I made went toward spell stuff and crystals. And a really cool mermaid tail that I still have tucked away somewhere.”

“A mermaid tail?” He dropped Peanut’s bag of accoutrements on the floor near the sofa.

“Yes, it was rubber or something. I could pull it up like pants and there was room in the fin for my feet. It sparkled,” she said, adding jazz hands because that was what one did when one talked about all things glittery. “I’d swim out in the backyard pool for hours wearing it. But it only fit me for about a year. I was so bummed. I think I expected it to grow with me. So you are going to stay for supper, yes? I make a mean zucchini parmesan.”

“I’m not even sure what that is, but I’m in.”

“Great! Let me get it put together. It’ll take about twenty minutes, and then I’ll pop it in the oven.”

“Me and Peanut will take a look through the book you got for us.”

He headed into the living room. Mireio called out that he could take the yarn afghan off the back of the couch and lay it on the floor for Peanut to crawl around on. “Will do!”

Utterly pleased after an afternoon well spent, she floated about the kitchen, gathering and slicing zucchini and onions, grating parmesan, while on the stove top she stirred a tomato sauce with basil and shallots.

Around the corner in the living room she heard Lars reading the What to Expect the First Year book out loud. In a very dramatic tone. She peeked around the corner and spied the big werewolf lying on the violet-and-blue afghan on his back—he held the book overhead while he pointed out the pictures to Peanut. The baby, lying on his back beside his daddy, followed his gestures with burbling fascination.

“Did you know a four-month-old is supposed to get his first tooth?” Lars called as she slipped back into the kitchen. “Peanut has had a tooth for two months. Heh. You’re ahead of your time, my boy. Also, he might start to roll over. Is that so? You want to give it a go, Peanut?”

Whispering thanks to Demeter, the goddess of harvest, and snapping her fingers over the sauce, Mireio imbued it with a touch of love and confidence. It was difficult not to create something to eat without adding a spell. She’d been doing it forever. Nothing intrusive. But Lars could probably use the boost to his confidence. Goddess knows he must have been going through heck these past few months. But to judge from the infant giggles in the next room he was managing remarkably well.

Peanut, eh? That was a horrible name for a child to grow up with. She’d have to work on Lars, help him come up with something before the kid got too attached to the name.

Assembling the dish with layers of zucchini, cheese and sauce, she then put the glass baking dish in the stove and set the timer. Pouring two goblets of honey IPA from the growler she always kept stocked in the fridge, she then strolled into the living room.

Lars lay on his side facing Peanut; the baby was sleeping. “Sometimes I can’t get over how much I like staring at him.” Wonder touched his tone as Lars said, “I made this little guy.”

“That you did. Or at least, you helped. I’m pretty sure the woman had a lot to do with it too. Brewing the little tyke for nine months and all.” She handed him a beer as he sat up and leaned against the couch. The open book lay near his leg. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“I already told you how me and Peanut’s mom got together.”

“Right, but do you think she might come back for her boy? I mean, after a few years? What if she has a change of heart? Or if her biological clock starts ticking? Wouldn’t that crush you?”

Lars ran his fingers back through his hair, pulling it into a ponytail behind him, then releasing it with a growl. “It would annihilate me.”

The alpha wolf lived inside him. And she had felt his protective instincts in that growl.

“I’m already so attached to him I couldn’t imagine not having him around,” he said. “But Peanut’s mom won’t come back. She had stars in her eyes. No desire to spend her days in a tiny cabin in the woods. She was pretty adamant about starting a new life in Africa.”

“Did you offer to marry her?”

“Didn’t have a chance. To be honest? I’m not sure I would have. We only knew each other two days. And we didn’t share a lot of conversation in that time, if you know what I mean. But had she decided to give motherhood a go, I would have never backed down on my obligation to raise my son. I’m relieved, actually, that she thought to give me a chance to raise him instead of going the adoption route.”

Mireio stroked the hair that spilled down his shoulders, then realized what she was doing and tugged her hand to her lap. He turned to look over his shoulder at her. “Whatever you’re making, it smells great.”

“Half an hour and you can test it. I hope you like oregano and garlic. How’s the IPA?”

“Awesome. I can taste the honey.”

“Got it from Valor’s hives. So you’ve worked with her and her bees?”

He waggled his hand before him in an indecisive gesture. “I sold her some queens and suggested some good places to order equipment. Her honey is distinctively different from field honey. She lives in a city and has hives on the top of her building. That forces the bees to forage for flowers far and wide and they visit a greater variety of flowers, which makes for a robust honey.”

“Do your bees produce a lot of honey?”

“Oh, yeah. I have to give most of it away because I’d never be able to go through it all. You want some?”

“I can always use honey, especially for baking. How do you do all that processing of honey in your little place? I didn’t see any equipment.”

“I keep it in storage at the pack compound over the winter. I’m hoping to build a room for storing my apiary and honey equipment with the addition. And an extra room for Peanut’s bedroom.”

“Do you know how lucky Peanut is to have a dad like you?”

He toggled the toe end of Peanut’s sleeper. “You didn’t see me that first month I had him. I was pretty crazed. And a walking zombie from lack of sleep. Wasn’t sure which end was up on the poor kid and was pretty damn surprised how much stuff tends to come out of both ends. For the first time I truly believed a dirty diaper could kill a man.”

She laughed and tucked her legs up onto the couch. Lars turned and she patted the cushion beside her so he moved up to sit beside her, making sure not to step on the sleeping baby.

“But by the end of the second month I’d gotten into a routine. I actually have one of those planner apps on my phone. I don’t know how all the moms do it without a calendar and a personal secretary. Just call me Mr. Mom now.”

“Mr. Dad more like it. You rock the single dad role. It’s good for a kid to have a dad or mom.”

“Or? You don’t believe they need both?”

Mireio shrugged. “Not necessarily. I never knew my dad. And my mom...” She sighed, memories unexpectedly rushing to the fore. Though she’d long ago shed all the tears. A glance to the mantel over the hearth landed on the photo of her and her mom. Jessica Malory had auburn hair that hung to her waist and a smile that could have stopped wars. “She died when I was eight. I was raised by my grandma.”

“Really? That’s tough. Or was it?”

“Sometimes. I mean, it’s been twenty years. But at the time, I was old enough to miss my mom, and her death was very traumatic.” And she’d avoid telling him about that for fear of being reduced to blubbering tears. “But grandma was awesome. And you know with witches, if we’ve performed an immortality spell, we can look young for a very long time. Grandma looks like a fashion model from the sixties with her long brown hair and she seriously still wears bell-bottoms.”

“You mentioned something about focusing on a spell. Does that mean you’ve performed the immortality spell I’ve heard about? Or are planning to?”

“That means I’m at this very moment prepared to do it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past few years, and I’m ready.”

“I think I know that spell requires a vampire, right?”

“You got it. It’s never pretty for the vampire. We witches call them a source.”

Lars lifted a brow. “Yes, but the vamps call those vampires ash.”

“There is that result. And before you think I intend to destroy another soul to extend my own life, I’ll have you know that I’ve hired a witch to track down one of the meanest and vilest vampires. One who has killed and is a danger to society.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. I mean, if you take out a bad one. Vamps who kill to get blood when they only need a little to survive? That’s unconscionable. I had no idea there was an actual person, though, that tracks down vamps specifically for you witches and your spells.”

“It’s Raven Crosse. She used to be a vampire hunter until she married a vampire. Now she does the search on the side for a very select clientele. And she costs a fortune.”

“How much?”

Mireio pressed the glass rim to her lips, then shook her head. “I’d rather not say. Suffice it to say, it’s something I want. Desperately. So it was worth the price.”

“The idea of one lifetime doesn’t sit well with you?”

“Nope.” And could they change the subject please? If she had to tell him how traumatized she’d actually been by her mother’s death she’d burst out in tears, and that was so not sexy or romantic. “I should check on supper. Be right back.”

* * *

Lars followed Mireio into the kitchen, where the scents of oregano and roasted tomatoes made him hunger for a home-cooked meal. She’d sprung up from the couch to retreat so abruptly, he suspected he’d said something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her as she bent before the open oven and tested the dish with a fork. “I think I went too far in there.”

“No, you didn’t.” She popped up and set the fork aside. “I don’t want to get into all the details about my mom. It’ll make me cry. Okay?”

“Deal.” At least she was honest. He could respect that. “How much longer? I could eat that whole pan if you let me.”

“Let me have a little corner and you can go right ahead and attack the rest. Ten minutes. You want more beer?”

“No, I’m good. Gotta drive Peanut home later.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a lightweight?”

“With beer? No. Takes a lot to get us wolves drunk. But I’m trying to do the responsible thing now. You know?”

“I get that. But if you ever want to not be responsible for a little while?” She pointed at her chest where her low-cut blousy shirt revealed ample cleavage. “You know where to find me.”

“We do have a few minutes. Why don’t you come on over and show me a little irresponsibility?”

She spun around the end of the kitchen counter and leaned toward him where he sat on a barstool. With him sitting, they came face-to-face, and he was thankful for that when he saw the kiss coming. Pushing his fingers up through her soft, bright hair, Lars accepted her sweet offering and smiled against her mouth. “You taste like tomato sauce.”

“That’s a preview for supper. You like?”

“I do.” He kissed her again and this time delved in deeper with his tongue, tasting her tomato sweetness and dashing the tip of his tongue along her teeth.

Mmm, she was hot and soft and when she put her hands on his knees to balance, he wished she’d landed that touch a little higher up. There, where his erection was teasing rigidity. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman. And truly, after the past few months of endless diapers and spit-up, he had forgotten how good it could be to kiss one. And touch her. And mmm, just to inhale her.

He coaxed her forward by sliding his hand over her hip, and she followed directions and leaned into him without breaking their connection. Yep, everything was hard now. Not going to be easy getting through this night.

Her fingers clutched his shirt and the connection zinged his every nerve ending, sending scintillating tingles all over his skin. It was as if together they created a sort of sensual electricity. And he couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her tongue, her sighs.

Pressing a hand against her back, he coaxed her forward again and bowed to keep the kiss. Her moan said everything he was feeling: yes, yes and all the yeses in the world. This tiny witch felt so right in his arms; he had to thank the gods for putting him in her backyard even if it had been a strange night that had scared the hell out of him.

A buzzer dinged, startling them to part their lips, and Mireio laughed. “Supper’s done!” She kissed him quick, then wiped her finger alongside his mouth. “Got a little lipstick on you there.” She tilted her head at him. “Can I have a few more of those awesome kisses for dessert?”

“You can have as many as you like.”

Another ding drew her away from him, and Lars adjusted his position and winced as he tried to adjust his hard-on in his tightened jeans.

* * *

“A water witch, eh?”

Mireio dished up another square of zucchini parmesan onto Lars’s plate and then refilled his water goblet. She’d been telling him how she hadn’t chosen the art of water magic but that it had chosen her.

“My grandmother could never get me out of the tub or the swimming pool. I used to tease her that I could make the water do things, so when she challenged me, I gave it a try. I cast my first water globe when I was ten.” She held her hands apart but curved toward one another as if to hold a ball. “Then I threw it at my granny, soaking her. I had to clean the bathroom for a month after that.”

Lars’s laughter filled the quiet kitchen. Beside him on the counter, Peanut, asleep in his baby carrier, stirred but didn’t wake.

She put a finger to her lips to shush them both. “So anyway, I mastered water magic by the time I was twenty. And that led to brewing beer. I like to change and control water. Add a few grains and some hops? Voilà!”

“So it’s an innate thing with you witches? You’re born able to do magic?”

“Some of it. As a baby I could swim underwater just like a seal. And I had a habit of curdling the milk before my mother could get it in the bottle. Or so I was told. But some magics we have to study and learn, and maybe never master. I’m trying to learn the healing arts. It should be easy for me. The body is made up of so much water, but I have real trouble invoking a healing spell.”

“You’ll master it. I know you will. You’re so talented. And beautiful.”

“You compliment me too much.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I’ve got the Scandinavian gene, you see. We don’t know how to take compliments.”

“Uff da, you don’t say?” he said with his best Minnesotan accent.

Mireio laughed. “Ya sure, you betcha. You’ve got the accent too!”

“Born and raised in Minnesota and damn proud to eat the lutefisk and lefse.” He finished the food and pushed his plate forward. “I am stuffed. And relaxed.”

She nodded toward his crotch. “I noticed earlier when we were kissing you were anything but relaxed.”

He blushed.

“Oh, you’re too cute. I’m going to keep you for a while. The baby too.”

“Thanks?”

She stood up on the stool’s bars and leaned over to kiss him quickly.

Peanut stirred in his carrier. “I should probably head out,” Lars said. “I don’t have any milk with me. Unless you can use your magic to turn water into milk?”

“Not quite that talented. And I’d hate to give the baby a tummy ache if something went wrong.”

Lars packed up the baby’s things and retrieved the book from the living room. Mireio walked with the two of them out to the truck parked in her driveway. After Peanut was fastened in and secured, Lars jumped back out and stood before her.

She waved at the baby and blew him a kiss. “See you later, Charlie!”

“Charlie?” He leaned against the truck door and gave her the eye.

“Yeah, thought I’d try out the name on him. You don’t like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll have to give it some thought.”

“I’ve got a few more ideas rolling around in my brain. But I’ll save them for another time. Give you a little time to try that one on a bit. So do I get to see you tomorrow? Uh, I have an appointment in the evening, but then...”

“What kind of appointment?”

“The one with the witch who hunts up vampires.”

“Ah. Do you want me to go along with you?”

“Would you? She lives in Minneapolis. I know her but not well. I feel sort of weird about the whole thing...”

“I’ll go along. For uh...” His gaze wandered over her head and took in the front of her house. The pause grew beyond a few seconds.

Mireio blinked, waiting for him to finish his thought. Did he do that often? Forget what he was talking about? He’d done it once before when she’d first met him.

“Wait,” he said, focusing back on her. “What were we talking about?”

Strange. But she didn’t want to draw attention to it. “Tomorrow night. Raven Crosse’s place?”

“Oh, right! I can get Sunday to babysit tomorrow night. We’ll stop by the witch’s place, then do something after?”

“There’s a new action movie I’d really like to see.”

“I haven’t been inside a movie theater in years. And action? Sounds like a plan.”

He bent to kiss her and she wrapped her arms about his neck and bounced as she tried to get closer to him. So Lars lifted her by the hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist. That fit them together perfectly and made for a nice hold.

After a couple kisses he said, “You’re so tiny.”

“And you’re like a basketball player. But I like a big strong alpha man.”

Inside the cab Peanut giggled. Both looked to the baby, then back to each other and laughed.

“I think that’s a hint,” he said. “Time to stop kissing the girl and get the tyke home for his bedtime bottle. What time do you want me to stop by tomorrow?”

“Six!”

He kissed her again, quickly, then set her down and climbed into the truck. With a wave and a wink, he backed out and drove away.

And Mireio sighed one of those satisfied sighs that a girl reserved only for those moments she wanted to cherish. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall in love. And she’d never been the queen of careful. Spontaneous, wild and free were her best attributes.

But what was wrong with the guy forgetting things midsentence? Hmm... Probably she had better not worry about it. She had a tendency to worry beyond the problem. There was no problem. Nope, none at all.




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