Claws & Crochet

Part 10

WARNER

"This is Minnie's old place, isn't it?" I ask once we pull up to the cabin and I cut off the engine on my bike.

"You knew her?"

"Only in passing. She didn't come into town much." Minnie Gunner was a woman more prone to glares than smiles. The few times our paths crossed, she had a much different reaction to my jokes than her granddaughter.

"Yeah. She wasn't a fan of people. At least, that's what I've been told."

"You weren't close?" That would explain why I've never met Zoey despite having spent my entire life in Pine Falls.

"Nope. I basically just know that she was my grandmother."

The cabin has a spooky air, with its dark windows and the shadowy forest looming behind it.

"Are you staying here by yourself?"

"No." Zoey dismounts from the bike, taking her teasing warmth with her. "I've got Bruce with me."

"Oh." I manage to keep the word from sounding tense. Still, my hands clench into fists on my thighs.

Of course a woman as quirky and beautiful and delicious smelling as Zoey would have a man following after her. Who wouldn't fight for a chance to win her affections?

I'm debating asking how serious things are with this Bruce guy when a loud, intimidating barking fills the quiet night air.

"That's him. Are you scared of dogs?" Zoey throws the question over her shoulder as she mounts the front porch.

Could she mean . . .?

There's another commanding bark as she opens the screen door.

"Speak now or else you're about to come face to face with Bruce Banner. Or maybe the Hulk. Depends what mood he's in." The shadowy night obscures Zoey's features, but I'm pretty sure she's grinning at me as she slides her key into the lock.

"I love dogs," I call out just before the wooden front door is pulled wide and a massive form barrels toward me. The lumbering creature is easily two hundred pounds. I hurry to stand up off my bike, worried the dog might topple me and the machine over with one swipe of his huge paws.

When he's only a handful of feet away from me, Bruce slows to a stop, sniffing the air.

I can guess what's throwing him off. I may look like a man, but that doesn't mean I smell like one. In this way, dogs are more perceptive than humans.

Something I'd have to spell out for Zoey, Bruce has discovered with a few deep breaths.

I'm a werewolf.

To put him at ease, I crouch down so our heads are level. We meet eyes, and I enjoy the curious confusion in his liquid brown gaze. As I extend my hand, I hum a nonsensical noise in the back of my throat, knowing that the dog will find it soothing. After a moment, there's a wet nose snuffling my palm.

"Push over. My brothers wouldn't be happy to know that this is how you act as guard dog."

I grin up at Zoey as I scratch the mastiff's ears. "Sorry. Dogs love me."

She snorts, her attention drifting away, and I realize she's staring over at an ancient truck.

The reason she was walking alone. At night. Into a biker bar.

"You said it wouldn't start?"

Zoey's eyes snap back to me when she realizes I noted the direction of her gaze. She nods with a sigh.

"I'll deal with it tomorrow. Probably have to get a tow truck out here. Hopefully it isn't forever dead. Still, it was my mom's truck, so I guess it would be poetic for it to meet its end at her childhood home."

"You mind if I take a look?" I'm already moving toward the vehicle, wanting to discover what might be wrong with it. Zoey steps down from the front porch to follow me.

"Do you know your way around cars? I've always meant to learn."

The idea of Zoey bent over an engine is sexy as fuck.

"I help out the local mechanic, so I know enough. What happens when you try to start it?"

"Nothing. Literally. No lights turn on, it doesn't try to sputter to life. It's just, dead."

Interesting. I pop the hood, but even with my advanced eyesight, I can't see much.

"Got a light?"

"Sure. About the only thing my phone is good for out here." Zoey turns on the flashlight capability, apparently preferring to use that then dig around for the actual flashlight in her bag.

"No service?" I ask while examining the wiring.

"Nope. Not unless I want to climb up in the old tree house out back. Up there I get one, maybe two bars if I'm lucky." She steps closer, watching my movements over my shoulder. A light breeze has her maple fragrance swirling around me. I have a theory about her scent's effect on me, but I'm not jumping to any conclusions until I talk to my brother. Still, I want her to press up against me, let me bury my nose in the juncture of her collar and neck so I can get lost in that delicious smell.

Instead, I concentrate on the engine. That's when I spot the obvious problem.

Author note: love a good werewolf & dog bonding fest!