Michele Hauf - The Witch And The Werewolf

He took the gift and then glanced to the front door. Back to her. He rubbed a hand along his thigh. “Yes, I suppose I should leave. Thank you for lunch. It was really good.”

“It wasn’t that great. But you’re a guy. Usually guys like any food that’s been made for them that isn’t a TV dinner.”

“So you’ve seen the inside of my freezer?”

He smiled, and she fell into that pretty white gleam of his. He had no idea the impact those pearly whites had on her. And was she blushing? Parts of her suddenly felt very hot.

“Uh. Right. Then I suppose I should go.” He turned, but didn’t walk to the front door.

So Mireio stepped up before him, sensing what he couldn’t say or do. And finding it sweetly endearing. “Did you want to kiss me before you leave?”

He nodded. Eagerly, but with a sheepish shrug. “I wasn’t sure it would be okay.”

The guy had scored one simply by being a sweet, uncomfortable lunk of shy. Mireio crooked her finger, gesturing that he should bow down, and when he got close enough to kiss, she met his lips with hers.

His mouth was not tentative, finding its place against hers with a surety and the promise of more confidence than his speech gave. He didn’t open her mouth, but he lingered, and the pressure of him against her worked a delicious tingle in her core. Mmm, now that was a very not-shy kiss.

When they parted, his eyes darted back and forth between hers. Then his dimples dented his cheeks and his smile caught up. “Saturday can’t come fast enough.” He kissed her quickly, and then turned to leave.

Standing on the threshold and watching his long strides out to his pickup truck, Mireio touched her lips and whispered a blessing for the fact she’d not been a stuck-up witch last night and had decided to talk to the man.

“Good call,” she said to herself. “May the witch and the werewolf get along. At the very least, have some fun.”

* * *

Well past the midnight hour, Mireio startled from her sleep and cried out. She sat up, seeking in the darkness for a creature—with fangs. Heartbeat thundering, she pressed a palm to her chest and, realizing she’d had another nightmare, breathed deeply in and out to calm her fears.

It was always the same. The vampire stood before her holding a bloody heart that dripped onto the toes of her white shoes, forever staining her memories of a younger, more innocent time.

She hadn’t had a nightmare in over a year, but the fact it had returned now disturbed her. She had to perform the immortality spell. But if so focused on preparing for the spell, could she then also concentrate on dating the shy but sexy werewolf?

“Am I doing the right thing?” she whispered into the night.

No one answered. Which was a good thing. That meant she was alone. No creepy vampire anywhere near her. Yet the only way to ensure she was safe from vampires was to rip the heart out of one of them and consume its blood.

She dropped back into the pillows and closed her eyes tightly.

Chapter 4

Saturday evening Lars stopped into the brewery. Mireio was ready to go, waiting for him by the door. She bounced on her high heels and her short multiruffled purple skirt caught his eye. And dangling near that skirt was the black fish purse. The woman was a character. And she was going out with him tonight.

He was the luckiest guy in the world.

Mireio waved goodbye to a woman behind the bar with dark hair and a calm, knowing smile, whom Lars waved to, as well. He hadn’t been introduced, but did know Valor Hearst, who also worked here. She and Sunday, his pack leader’s wife, were friends, so Valor popped up at the compound once in a while. They always chatted bees for a while when she did so.

“Where are we going tonight?” Mireio asked as she joined him and slipped her hand into his.

Momentarily captivated by the warm slender hand in his, Lars took a few seconds to answer. It actually took a squeeze from her hand to lure him back to what she’d asked.

“Uh, where? There’s a new place in Tangle Lake. Supposed to be fancy and the scenery is pretty cool. You like a steak house?”

“Sure. I like all food. Your hand is so big and—” she turned it over to inspect as they strolled toward the parking lot “—rough. You must do a lot of physical labor.”

“I’ve cleared out some fallen oaks from the forest near my place, so I’ve been chopping and stacking wood for winter fires. As well as doing some repair work on the plank path that leads to the outhouse.”

“I need to see that outhouse one of these days. I can’t imagine having to walk outside to get to the bathroom.”

“I’m sure your bathroom with the big tub puts my little outhouse to shame.”

“Oh, I’m sure it 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.