Page 7 of Leaping Into Love

If only I could tell her that she is my life now. “My calendar is clear and I will be available whenever you request.”

We turn at the end of the row and continue down the next. Though she averts her attention to the canned and dry goods, it’s clear by the way her lips wiggle from side to side that something is on her mind.

“If there are products you’re used to buying that aren’t stocked here, I’m sure the grocer would order them in for you.”

“Is everyone in town as accommodating as you and the grocer?”

“I think you’ll find most of our townsfolk friendly and eager to make you feel at home.”

“Most,” she says, repeating the one word I’d have preferred she not pick out of my statement. “Who isn’t on the ‘most’ list? I bet the butcher is on it.”

“Hans?” When she said she didn’t want to go into the butcher shop, I assumed it was a lack of interest in meat. Now I’m not so sure. “Why would you think that?”

Her pretty lips wiggle again, her eyes scanning my face before her shoulders—and chest, though I try not to let my gaze go there—rise with a deep breath. “When I drove through town yesterday, he came out of the butcher shop to stare at me as I went past. He had blood on his apron and a knife in his hand, and…”

I wait several beats for her to finish whatever caused her to trail off, but she doesn’t continue. “I’m sure that was unsettling, but I’m confident in saying that while Hans is a little gruff, he’s in no way a threat to you, and would wish you well, given the opportunity. Would you like to stop there before we go home, and I can introduce you?”

A shudder ripples through her. “I’m sure you’re right, and my mind was playing tricks on me, but I think I’ll buy my meat here, or go without, and just steer clear of the butcher.”

Perhaps it would be wise not to inquire about the cryptic comment. By the time we reach the end of the row and turn down the next one, however, I can’t hold my curiosity at bay. “What did you mean when you said your mind was playing tricks on you?”

Pausing while reaching for a package on an upper shelf, she glances up and down the unpopulated aisle before whispering, “For a split second, I could’ve sworn he looked like a—” Instead of finishing, she shakes her head. “Never mind. Now that I’m going to say it out loud, it’s ridiculous.”

A twisting in my gut suggests otherwise. But is it possible? “Whatever you saw, I’m sure it’s not ridiculous and there’s an explanation.”

Her gaze bounces from the shelves of perfectly aligned boxes and bottles to the contents in the cart, and finally, back to me. “You might decide I’m not in touch with reality and send me packing, and I really don’t want that to happen.”

“I assure you, Tiana, there is nothing you could say that will yield that result. You’re safe here. In Rita’s Hollow and with me.” I take the bottle of juice from her hand and place it in the cart. The simple grazing of fingers sends sparks skittering through me, and a resulting croak escapes my lips yet again. “My apologies.”

“Please don’t. We all have quirks and habits, Henry. I happen to think your croaking is charming.”

“That is a relief, as it’s not something I can control,” I say as we continue making our way down the row.

“Yeah, I figured that out last night.”

The statement stops me in my tracks. Did she see me in the pond? I believed myself adequately hidden, but I was thinking about my true form blending with the reeds. It didn’t cross my mind that if she looked out toward the swamp, which she did, she would see a pale human there.

“Don’t sweat it,” she says, gently nudging my arm, an innocent gesture that ignites fire low in my core. “I had my windows open, and I heard it, heard you, while I unpacked. I figured you were on the patio or something before turning in for the night, because all the lights in your house went off afterward and I didn’t hear you again afterward. Not that I was spying on you or anything.”

Another strangled croak rises in my throat. If she were to learn the extent of my spying last night, I doubt that fate or magic would be enough to keep her here with me. “We’ve gotten off track,” I say, to steer the conversation away from last evening’s events.

“I was hoping you’d forget.” Again, her lips wiggle and shift, her eyebrows pinching together at the bridge of her nose. Two patrons are in the next row when we turn. Tiana gives them a polite smile, remaining tight-lipped until we’re alone again in the next aisle. She stops in front of a table laden with fresh fruit and blows out a long breath. “The butcher, he…he looked like a wolfman. Just for a few seconds until I blinked, I would’ve sworn he wasn’t entirely human.”

Gods, how is it possible she saw Hans’ true form when the entire town is bespelled with protective glamour? Clearing my throat, I attempt to school my features into a calm mask of nonchalance with a hint of amusement. What I wouldn’t give for a mirror to check myself. Hiding the truth is more difficult than I thought it would be.

“Go ahead, have a laugh. I told you it was ridiculous.” Before I have the chance to reply, she huffs another breath. “I don’t really think he’s a monster. I know it was just because I was tired from driving, nervous about the big changes to my life, and my stomach was flip-flopping around the greasy drive-through food I ate on the way. But you have to admit, that man has a lot of scruffy facial hair.”

“Indeed, he does.” Though I see my neighbors for the species they are, not as the human facades Tiana sees, I know the glamour incorporates our true features to a degree. It makes sense that Hans’ glamoured visage would be that of a man with heavy facial hair. He is a Lycan, after all.

“I feel less weirded out now that I’ve said it aloud. Not enough to meet him face-to-face today, but maybe the next time I’m shopping.”

“Only if you feel comfortable doing so. Don’t put pressure on yourself. There will be plenty of time for you to get acquainted with everyone in town.” Feigning casualness, the opposite of the knot tightening inside me, I select a musk melon from the tidy pyramid pile and look it over. A moment ago, I encouraged her to meet Hans. But something caused the glamour to falter yesterday, and if it were to happen again, and she saw him for what he truly is, would she run screaming to her car and speed out of town—and my life—forever?

“Aside from my grandparents, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.” She graces me with a lovely smile. “I’m glad fate twirled its fingers in my coffee mug the day I was pissed off enough with my old job to be angry-scrolling the help wanted ads.”

“As am I.” I offer the melon, which she accepts and places in the cart. Following her lead, I move to another table of produce, watching her intently while she carefully chooses a head of cauliflower. “Have you always believed in fate intervening?”

“What? Oh, definitely not,” she says with a light laugh. “I wasn’t serious when I said that. It’s just a phrase. I know there’s no such thing as fate.”