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“Mm-hm?” came his diligent reply, a patient step behind.
I twisted around. “Is that what really you do?”
He made a show of rolling his eyes. “You’re a person, Marcy. Not a werewolf, not a wounded doe. If I need to, I’ll work shoulder to shoulder with you as my teammate.”
“So I’m not a werewolf?”
“No.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
He looked quizzical. “How do you mean?”
“Nothing,” I continued, lifting a shoulder. “Thought I might be.”
In the warm spring air the sheriff set aside my bags and leaned against the porch rail. Beyond the flattened weeds on the side of my yard, young leaves produced a hazy green atmosphere surrounding the Vilkas orchard.
“How many questions you got?”
I settled into position beside him. “More than there are hairs on a werewolf’s ass.”
He squinted into the bright sky to follow a hawk’s meticulous circles. “Well, Miss Davins, I confess I’ve left your gun in my office. Your cats pitched such a hissy fit going in their crates I plum forgot to take it. Now, the contractor’s on his way and I’m sure you’ve sheep to be counting under your housemate’s watch, but if you’re free for supper tomorrow, I’ve got the names of a few decent restaurants ‘round these parts. We could head out to a firing range after. I’d like to see you hit a few targets.”
“Can’t,” I said, even though I needed to improve my aim.
“That so?”
I bumped my shoulder against his. His attention fell away from the hawk. “Are you asking me out because you want to, sheriff, or are you trying to keep me from Calico?”
Expression never wavering from neutral, he tapped his holster. “I’m in the business of keeping you safe, Miss Davins.”
“How positively noncommittal.”
“Any interest I have in you ends where company policy dictates.”
“What I’m hearing is there’s some interest.”
“What you’re forgetting is I’m hunting a murderer. Since he or she has their sights set on you, so do I.” He turned, rested his elbows on the rail and gazed into the organized disaster of an entry. “Mrs. Finn will tell you a lone wolf can’t protect you like a pack. She’s right, but you’d do well to understand pack protects pack first and foremost. Cal isn’t above finding a suitable meat-shield to scheme behind.”
???
When I reached the apartment, Lisa ripped me a new one, but I had too much going on to offer better than a distracted apology. Samson ran his head and shoulders back and forth against my chest as if offended at the lack of fur on my shirt. Igor, less enthused but chirping, kneaded my lap with tender toes, as if the hidden stitches bothered her.
My cats and my best friend. What more could a girl ask for after a near-death experience?
For the next twenty-four hours I was happy; requested sick leave, rejected Calico’s invitation and texted the sheriff no dinner, but drinks were on the table. Later, with the sun low on the horizon and fear an old crow coming home to roost, I was working myself up to cancel on him.
Wyatt arrived with takeout.
“Stay as long as you need,” he said as we feasted on fried rice and orange chicken. “Sucks having one bedroom. Amelia has a spare, if you don't mind Coop.”
“No offense to Amelia, but the couch works fine. I’m not sure how the cats would react to a baby. Besides, it’s a week and a half according to the contractor. He wants me to do a walkthrough with him tomorrow.”
“Insurance cover it?”
“Surprisingly, yeah.” Did supernatural entities have their own insurance? How complex was their world, and how could it be so well hidden? I added the questions into my phone to save for later under the guise of texting my boss.
Lisa linked arms with Wyatt. “Marcy, it's cool if you want to stay longer. I’m not going home until the psycho who vandalized our porch is caught. You shouldn’t have to live in fear, either.”
