He led me into the bar. Dressed in cutoffs and a tank top, I blended in well with the few patrons inside. Emmitt walked up to the bar and ordered himself a beer and two shots for me. My eyebrows rose.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Alcohol?” He looked slightly annoyed with me as he handed me the first one.
I was dealing with the surreal weirdness of my life as best I could and didn’t much care for his attitude. Narrowing my eyes at him, I drank the tiny drink. It burned a trail down to my stomach.
“That was awful,” I said making a face. I definitely preferred wine.
The annoyance left his gaze, and his lips twitched. He nodded in agreement and handed me the second one.
“Isn’t there something better than that?”
“There is, but that will do the trick.”
I swallowed the second one quickly and waved the bartender back over to ask for a glass of water. We sat there as he nursed his beer and the fire spread through my veins.
“I think I’m ready,” I said unsteadily.
“For what, exactly?” he asked, taking a sip while he watched me.
“To get to know you.”
His eyebrows rose comically, and I realized how what I said sounded. A giggle escaped me, and my IQ dropped. The downside of liquid courage.
“Not that,” I assured him. “Like you asked.”
A fleeting sadness filled his eyes, but then he shook his head and stood, offering me a hand. I needed it.
Night had fallen when he led me back outside to his motorcycle. The ride home was dangerous and exciting. He went slow, and I held on tight. Maybe my hands wandered over his chest a bit. I wasn’t quite sure how much, though, because I couldn’t feel my fingers.
When we parked, I asked my first question. “What was in that little cup?” Darn mouth wasn’t saying what I wanted it to. Shot; I knew it was a shot.
“Tequila.”
“It didn’t taste good,” I said as I struggled to get off the bike.
He twisted and lifted me off as he stood. It was so effortless that I blinked at him in awe as he got off the bike and stood before me.
“What now?” he asked.
No lights glowed in the windows of the house. The yard light’s weak illumination just reached the garage. Enough to see, anyway.
“Show me?” I asked. My world tilted a little, and I reached out a hand to steady myself. When the world righted, I absently petted the bicep under my fingers. Lovely muscle.
“What exactly?” Emmitt voice rumbled quietly in front of me.
“You said you’re a werewolf. Show me what that means exactly.” I slowly blinked at him, watching the shadows the yard light cast on his face.
He studied me for a moment then reached up and gently ran his fingers down my cheek. “If I show you, will you answer some questions for me?”
I nodded gamely.
“Turn around for a second.”
I spun on my heel and almost tipped over. Giggling, I pin-wheeled my arms for a few seconds and struggled to regain my balance. When I found it, I spread my arms wide like a tightrope walker. My fingers touched fur, and I gasped and looked at my hand.
Beside me stood a huge dog. The light from the house barely glinted off the beast's dark eyes as it watched me.
“Hi, there!” I petted its head. Then, wondering where the dog had come from, I peered around the garage looking for Emmitt.
“Did you see where he went?”
At the dog's feet, I noticed a neat pile of clothes. Wait, weren’t those Emmitt’s clothes? I imagined a naked Emmitt running around and grinned.
I bent, picked up Emmitt’s neatly folded shirt, and held it to my face. It was still warm. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. He smelled so good. The dog nudged me, and I realized I’d almost drifted off to sleep.
“Good boy,” I said, patting its head again.
It harrumphed and used its teeth to try to pluck the shirt from my grasp.
“Bad!” I scolded, tapping the dog on the nose. Its head came to my chest so it wasn’t a hard reach.
Suddenly, the dog began to change, comically distorting in lurching phases. Fur disappeared, showing smooth skin. A naked expanse of man-chest.
“Oh!” I said, finally understanding. I spun on my heel, still clutching the t-shirt. The ground lurched under my feet then held steady.
The rasp of his zipper had me closing my eyes in humiliation.
“Is it too late to ask for another shot?” I whispered in mortification.
“Yep,” he confirmed from behind me, a second before he scooped me into his arms.
The world spun in a slow motion, and I leaned my head against his chest. Being carried was kind of nice.
“Now, you promised to answer a few questions,” he said in soft amusement.
Chapter 8
Steady pounding woke me. I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. It didn’t block out the noise.
“Mimi,” Liam said, shaking my shoulder. “Someone’s at the door. I think it’s Uncle Jim.”
Uncle Jim? What? I tossed aside the pillow, struggled to lift my head from the mattress, and tried to focus on Liam’s face.
Last night came back in a rush, and I groaned aloud, letting my head fall back down.