Page 98 of Howlin’ For You

“That makes sense,” I finally reply with a weak smile.

I hide my blush by turning to the living room. It came fully furnished, and everything looks so cozy and soft. There are a million pillows on the big, thick, plush couch and probably just as many blankets in the little basket on the floor. A fall leaves scented candle burns on the mantle, and the colors are a smattering of creams, greens, and blues.

But that’s not the perfect part. The perfect part is how the design is maximalist. There’s a knick-knack on every open space.

It’s as if Talia knew exactly who I am as a person and furnished it for me.

It’s the perfect place to curl up in front of the big, blazing fireplace with a mug of something warm, a steamy book, and dimmed lighting.

“What do you think?” she asks after a few moments.

“It’s beautiful,” I say with a wistful sigh. “I love it.”

Her green eyes dance with amusement, but not in a way that makes me feel made fun of. I just feel welcome. “Well, considering you already signed the lease, that’s a good thing. I’ll get out of your hair. Trash pick-ups are on Monday mornings, keys are on the kitchen island, including your mailbox key. You can CashApp me your rent on the first day of each month and... I think that’s it! But you have my number if anything comes up.”

I nod along, happy to be left alone to decompress and process the fact that I actually did this. I actually uprooted my entire life for a temporary job in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by werewolves.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

She leaves with one final wave, and I’m alone in my new home. My new temporary home, I remind myself. As right as this all feels—which is strange considering I’ve always felt like I’ve blundered through life—I can’t get too attached. While it’s no secret that I don’t have much to go back home to, I do still have some sort of life there. The goal is to have a new experience and maybe discover what the hell I’m supposed to be doing with my life.

I will not fall in love with a small town in the middle of nowhere, Washington.

I try to quell the rising disappointment. It’s irrational and unhelpful.

And yet…isn’t my hope that one of these places I visit turns into a real home? Isn’t that why I do this?

I sigh. None of the jobs, towns, or people have worked out before. Why would this time be any different?

CHAPTER TWO

NICK

I’m restless.

Something changed in the air last night, and I’m not sure what, but I swear my inner wolf is practically pacing inside my chest.

Contrary to popular belief, werewolves don’t have two separate entities in their head. It’s not man vs wolf—it’s man and wolf. But today, it almost seems as if half of me is ripping apart at the seams.

“Nick?”

I’m snapped from my thoughts by Mr. Trembly, the werewolf who taught me chemistry in high school. He called my cell this morning over a leaky faucet, and I rushed over despite that strange feeling in my gut screaming that my entire world had been flipped on its head with no notable reason why.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Trembly.” I shake my head, begging my mind to calm. “You said your faucet has been leaking since last night, and it won’t stop no matter what you try?”

“That’s it, son.” The way he looks at me hasn’t changed since I was seventeen. Annoyance, general grumpiness, and a slight hint of affection he can’t hide. “Want to pull your head out of the clouds long enough to take a look at it?”

With a small smile, I nod and walk into his bathroom. Despite the man’s smugness, I don’t expect this to take me longer than five minutes. Mr. Trembly talks a big game, but the man has absolutely zero handiness skill. If anything, I’d suspect he probably loosened the pipe instead of tightening it.

I started doing odd jobs like this in high school for extra cash, and somehow, it turned into a full-blown handyman business. If anyone needs anything in this town, they call me. I’m thankful that the people of Lunamois trust me, even if I’m a little overwhelmed by the number of calls. But I can handle it.

“He made it worse, didn’t he?” Mrs. Trembly asks, walking in as I tighten the pipe with my tools.

I huff a soft laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her little laugh is full of affection for her mate, and that familiar ache rips through my chest. Despite it being over thirty years, I just can’t give up on the hope that one day I’ll find my own mate.

It doesn’t seem likely.