The Witch And The Werewolf. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
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?