The Witch And The Werewolf. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
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!”
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