Michele Hauf - Her Werewolf Hero

She glanced around. They were the only couple in the diner, sitting at the end of a line of booths that paralleled the front windows. At the counter sat an old man gobbling up his eggs with Tabasco sauce, earphones stuffed into his ears. If he could hear them she’d be surprised.

“Right. Wouldn’t want to tell this big empty place about vampires.”

The coffee arrived, along with their breakfast. Kizzy made quick work of the over easy eggs and followed with bacon, sausage and ham—she gave her steak to Bron—while he seemed to inhale his plate of meat but in a way that seemed elegant and mannered. He was interesting to watch, and she did it casually, over her juice or while glancing out the window. His eyes were so blue she felt certain they were not real. Like something enhanced by Photoshop for a romance-novel cover. And his tousled hair seemed styled that way, purposely bed rumpled. It gave her ideas. And, man, those ideas were sexy.

She’d slept next to this gorgeous man last night. And she wasn’t going to tell anyone it had been in separate beds. Sometimes all the details weren’t necessary. And then this morning he had hugged her as if she had been the last woman on earth. And she’d wanted to kiss him because she’d been in a weird mental place, struggling with the facts about her heart and wanting it to not be real. And because, well, she’d never kissed a man with a beard before. Curiosity strikes! And when a handsome man pulled her close, well—bam. Need had kicked in. She wasn’t beyond sex for the sake of placating her emotions or because she just needed to connect with another person for a few blissful moments.

“You have a girlfriend, Bron?” Sitting back, she poured another cup of coffee, then tinted the dark brew with three creamers.

“The job I have doesn’t allow time for relationships.”

“Really? Lots of people travel and are able to maintain relationships.”

He delivered her a castigating flash of blue eye from behind a fork load of eggs.

All right, so the man had also mastered the dirty look. She’d try a different tack. “You must travel a lot.”

“Always. I’m never in one place for long. Women tend to want to see a man more than once every six months or so, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, I suppose. But you must have a home base?”

He shrugged. “Paris is one of my bases. I own a loft in the sixth. I’ve been there twice this year for less than a week total. This is the first time I’ve been in the States in over a dec—uh, a long time. I also own a tiny apartment in New York but don’t anticipate stopping there unless my return flight has a layover. My missions usually run back-to-back.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

He raised a brow as he buttered the last piece of rye toast on his plate.

“I travel, too,” she offered. “Or I’m just getting into the traveler’s mode. Have been traveling for a couple months and hope to make it a permanent career. My blog has become so popular I need to expand my horizons and take in new places for my photo shoots. It feels right to me. I can’t imagine settling to live in one place for too long now. I’ve been in Thief River Falls a few days, and it already seems like forever. It’s my hometown, but I’ve found I prefer Europe.”

“You have family here?”

“Not anymore. My parents moved to Brussels eight years ago, and I had always meant to follow them and then explore the world. But, well...” She sighed and sipped the coffee. “Sometimes relationships get in the way, as well as the lack of money. But no more! Everything changed eight months ago. I’ve prioritized what means the most to me. And that is seeing the world. Now I’m a free soul blowing about on the breeze.”

“Breezes sometimes turn into hurricanes,” he remarked drily.

“Really? Because I’ve always thought they were pretty gentle. I wouldn’t mind a stronger wind. I like going to new places. When I’m finished here in Minnesota, I’m on to Romania. I’ve already put in for an apartment. I’ll be shooting pictures for their department of tourism.”

“Romania is beautiful country. But for a woman alone? You don’t go wandering about in the woods all by yourself, do you? You do take along a friend or guide?”

She shrugged. “Haven’t had the need or the desire.” Though it was something to consider. She wasn’t worldly-wise yet. And if vampires were real, she should definitely bring along a guide or a protector. Or a vampire slayer. Did they hire out? “I’m careful. Besides, now I know how to fight off a vampire. That should count for something.”

He smirked, and she wanted to reach across the table and trace her finger over the crinkled lines at the corner of his eye. And stroke his beard. It was thick along the jaw, dark and—now the idea of testing out a kiss from a bearded man popped into her brain. And then she wanted to stand in his arms again and release her worries into his strong hold and fall into him. That hug had been awesome. And much needed.

“That hit the spot,” he said and pushed his plate to the table’s edge.

Kizzy startled out of her daydream. Her father had always said her biggest problem was that she was a daydreamer. She had never considered daydreaming a detriment. It had gotten her this far. She hoped to follow the reverie all the way to the end.

So long as that end didn’t come about because of a missing heart. Plucked out by a werewolf.

The waitress appeared to retrieve their plates and leave them a fresh pot of coffee.

“Thanks,” Bron said. “Have you pie?”

“Cherry, apple and boysenberry,” the waitress supplied cheerfully.

“How about a thin slice of each?”

The waitress bristled gleefully and headed off to the kitchen.

“You must really like pie,” Kizzy said.

“I do intend to share.”

“Thanks. That must not come easily to you.”

“What? Sharing?”

She nodded.

“Just because I’m a lone man making my way through the world doesn’t mean I’ve not the capacity to empathize with others. Besides, I have a theory. Pie is a universal means to friendship. And, I’m hoping, an olive branch necessary to make up for the past twelve hours. I didn’t mean to bring all this into your life.”

“I think that tracking thing was the culprit.”

“Yes.” He patted his jeans pocket and then pulled the device from his pocket. With a crisp snap, it broke in two in his hand. “Should have done that as soon as I figured out you were the target. Still might have some residual magic attached to it. I’ll ditch it in the garbage bin out back when we leave. Another cup of coffee and then I’ll be fueled up.”

“Where to next?”

“Perhaps keep driving. With the tracker destroyed, it shouldn’t take long to notice if it’s effective. If we don’t run into anything wanting to rip out your heart today, I’d say you could be safe to return to Thief River Falls.”

A day didn’t seem like a good bet, but Kizzy wouldn’t argue. Besides, spending the day with this guy would give her time to learn about him. And he about her. Which reminded her...

“I need to tell you something, Bron. It could be important to your mission. It’s about my heart.”

The waitress delivered three pie plates and two forks and offered extra ice cream. All they had to do was call for Alice. Bron said they’d be fine and thanked her.

Kizzy pulled the apple pie toward her, and, sitting up on one folded leg, she leaned over the table and teased at the warm apple slices swimming in cinnamon beneath a crispy crust. “I think I can verify my heart is what you’re seeking. At least, my dreams do.”

“Dreams?”

She sighed and set down the fork. “I’ve been having a recurring dream since the surgery. I wake up feeling a pressure in my chest and remember the feel of a hand clutching my heart.”