Fan Service

Chapter 9

9

In Devin’s defense, he never meant to show up to Alex’s house uninvited.

Last night—technically early this morning—after they’d agreed she would become his werewolf Obi-Wan Kenobi, he went back to his hotel, ordered four cheeseburgers from room service, and passed out on top of his scratchy duvet.

When he woke up the next day at two p.m., he had a bunch of texts from Alex, including a list of possible methods for turning a werewolf back into a human. Jesus, had she slept at all?

Devin: Lotta these involve magic or other supernatural creatures.

Alex: Werewolves don’t usually spontaneously appear in isolation

Devin: you saying I’m special?

Alex: That’s one word for it

Alex: I still think using a version of The Trials in an effort to achieve symbiosis is our best bet

Devin: We’re ruling exorcism out?

Alex: I’m Jewish

Devin:

Devin: Why is wolfsbane crossed out? Isn’t that a real plant?

Alex: It is. A subgenus of plants actually

Alex: It’s also a lethal poison

Devin: Oh.

Devin: Bummer.

Devin: What about true love? You think I should redownload Raya?

Devin: Taking your silence as encouragement.

Devin: Are gym selfies douchey? Be honest.

Alex: Today is my day off.

Damn. That period was loud. Which, okay, fine. Devin understood boundaries. He could occupy himself for twenty-four hours. No problem. He had one of those sudoku puzzle booklets that he’d impulse bought at the airport in his backpack. And the TV in his “executive suite” probably had pay-per-view porn. Unless hotels got rid of that stuff when they stopped paying for cable.

Alex had AirDropped the video footage from the garage onto his phone before he left yesterday, so he watched that a bunch of times. Even though he’d been trying to play it cool in front of her in the break room, in the harsh light of midafternoon he was still pretty fucking alarmed.

The press tore him a new one when they thought he was faking being a werewolf. What would they do if they found out he was actually biologically some kind of supernatural creature? Well, they wouldn’t believe him, obviously. It was ridiculous. Outrageous. Impossible.

Even Alex, who was primed to buy into this shit after spending more than a decade in the fandom, hadn’t believed him until she saw his fangs with her own eyes.

Devin still struggled to accept the truth, and he was fucking living it. All his life, he’d been told to make himself the perfect canvas for a character. To file down his sharp edges and kill the parts of himself that weren’t palatable. His dad once threw out a pair of hot pink sneakers Devin had bought because they weren’t “masculine” enough.

Flopped on his stomach on the bed, Devin swiped through Raya, but the closest matches were in Miami. Damn. This wolf shit certainly wasn’t gonna make dating any easier.

Last Tuesday he’d been a middle-aged out-of-work actor. Now he was a middle-aged out-of-work actor with claws. He was like Lou and all the other racehorses that got abandoned at Alex’s vet—worthless without the next job. His parents and all those on-set handlers raised him to be looked at and hobbled him for everything else.

Devin’s breathing grew painful, ragged, his vision starting to swim.

Shit. He could not afford to break down. Not again.

Being a werewolf was probably like doing mushrooms. If you let yourself lose it, you were definitely gonna have a bad time. Devin needed to focus on the plan, on taking action. He would do the trials and get a handle on himself. He’d book the next job. No matter how long it took, he always booked the next job.

No one would ever find out he was anything less than exactly what they wanted him to be. At the very least, outside of trying to sniff Alex, his wolf didn’t seem particularly violent, thank god. Devin really didn’t wanna hunger for human flesh. Though speaking of hunger…

He ordered room service again. Man, that menu was getting old fast. He might have to get wild and buy a hot plate off Amazon.

After eating, Devin stood and rolled his muscles. He felt less sore today than he had after the previous transformations, which seemed like progress. Maybe he should try going to the gym off the lobby. Actually, hold on a second. Devin didn’t need to wait for Alex to start investigating his—God, the word “powers” sounded outrageous even in his own brain. The full moon was coming in twenty days whether he was ready or not. He might as well take advantage of every minute and try to hone his senses solo. (Also, he’d checked and the porn selection here was beneath him.)

He drove the truck out to Ocala Forest. Tapping into his inner animal in nature seemed like a better idea than trying to coax his wolf out in the back of the hotel’s neighboring strip mall.

After hiking for about an hour, Devin managed to find a secluded clearing.

Okay. He pumped his arms back and forth. You can do this. Become one with the beast.

It was foolish to only be able to access his wolf senses unconsciously or when provoked. If Devin honed his awareness, figured out how to tap into these skills on demand, he would be less vulnerable to letting them overwhelm him.

Since he’d mastered his sense of hearing at least once, learning to listen to Alex’s heartbeat, Devin decided to start there. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the forest rush in, rather than using half his concentration to keep them out. It was getting a little easier to tune, as if his brain were building muscle memory for the skill. Devin started close.

A birdcall overhead, high and sharp, insistent.

To his left, a squirrel scurrying up a tree.

Downwind, the roar of a river rushing.

Devin tried to extend his sense, reaching, testing how far he could go.

A child’s squeal of excitement.

The crunch of leaves under a hiker’s boots.

The spray of an aerosol can.

Devin inhaled deeply. Sunscreen.

Now that his nose was in the game, he moved his focus there, raising his head to catch scents mingling on the breeze, employing the kind of deep breaths he’d learned from watching Yoga with Adriene during the pandemic.

My breath is my anchor . He mentally recited Adriene’s mantra from one of the episodes. (Yes, he felt silly. His whole life had recently become silly as shit.) His nostrils flared as he took in a gulp of swampy Florida air.

My anchor is my breath.

Damp soil.

Composting leaves.

Sticky, sweet tree sap.

Dry and peeling bark.

Dew-dusted grass.

Salty human sweat.

The plasticky chemicals of synthetic workout wear.

Feathers.

Fur.

Devin opened his eyes and zeroed in on a white-tailed deer leaping across a fallen log miles in the distance.

The urge to run, to chase, swept through him. Devin followed his feet, cutting through undergrowth, picking up speed.

His heartbeat spiked, but not from exertion.

He was fucking fast . Lengthening his stride, he pushed himself, pumping his arms and legs harder, leaning forward, chin and chest into the run. Trees and shrubs blurred in his periphery, becoming smudges of green and brown and white.

His Apple Watch beeped—asking if he was driving.

Devin grinned into the wind, cataloging new scents.

A sweet-smelling flower.

Car exhaust from the highway.

But then, on a random inhale, he caught a new scent.

DarkBitterDelicate.

There was something almost familiar about the mingled notes, but Devin was too far away. The scent hung elusive in the air, just out of reach.

Devin skidded in the damp soil, kicking up dirt as he switched directions, following the demands of his wolf to TrackSeekFind .

When Devin tried to pull the scent apart, he got memories.

Tipping his head back to stare at the ink-spill sky over the Grand Canyon.

His first sip of hot chocolate on the streets of Mexico City.

Climbing naked into bed after buying himself disgustingly decadent sheets.

He chased the trail to a house, dark red siding with white shutters and a blue door, tucked into the edge of the forest. On the porch sat two wooden rocking chairs.

He slowed to a stroll as he approached. After an extended sprint like that at his age, Devin should be winded, bent over, red-faced, huffing and puffing. But he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Hey, if they did reboot The Arcane Files —no, when —he should totally offer to do his own stunts, like Tom Cruise.

There was no driveway to speak of at the house, but someone had inlaid big, flat stones into a little winding footpath. That same someone, he suspected, who had hand carved the mailbox to look like a mallard. Even at forty-two, Devin heard the siren song of the thing, beckoning vandalism. Evidently others agreed, because the beak was already chipped.

After thirty-odd years of living in LA, Devin couldn’t believe how easily he could walk right up to the front door, no security, no gate. The scent he’d tracked wafted from a window above the garage, tantalizingly out of reach. He was hungry again. Starving, actually. For food and sex and adrenaline. To possess and protect. With the opposing urges to bare his teeth and show his belly.

Devin tilted his head and narrowed his gaze, trying to see through fluttery white curtains.

“Can I help you?” a tense voice asked, low and wary.

He’d been so focused on the trail, he hadn’t noticed the man with slate hair perched on a ladder by the side of the house, his arms full of wet leaves as he cleared out the gutters.

Devin shifted his attention to the sweet smell of decay (the leaves) and Old Spice and exhaustion (the man).

Wait— could Devin smell feelings now? That was pretty sick, but he didn’t have time to dive into it because the old guy was looking at him like he might call a forest ranger at any moment.

Shit. What could he say? Hello, sir, sorry you found me loitering on your property but something above your garage smells really good and I’m pretty sure I want to eat and/or fuck it?

This was why other people wrote his lines.

“Uhhh,” Devin said. Great start. Extremely eloquent.

But then the guy saved him by squinting. “Wait a second. Aren’t you that kid from that TV show?”

Kid? Really? This guy had maybe twenty-five years on Devin. But, Devin noticed now, he stood favoring one leg, listing a bit on the ladder. That plus the weariness coming off him in waves…Maybe he was older. His heartbeat was elevated, and there was something almost mechanical about his pulse.

“I’m Devin Ashwood. You might know me from a show called The Arcane Files ?”

Recognition flickered and then settled in the older man’s eyes.

“My daughter used to watch.” While his pulse steadied, he was still frowning. “Is that why you’re on my lawn? Did she win some kind of contest?”

Devin considered lying for a split second. That cover story seemed easier, less embarrassing. But something about the man’s dark, clear-eyed gaze made him hesitate.

“No. I was just out for a run when I came across your house. It’s very—” Small. Old. “—quaint.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks.”

Apparently Devin was dismissed because the guy went back to work, getting down to move his ladder over to the next patch of gutter, wincing a little as he started climbing back up.

Devin wasn’t normally a busybody. But this dude looked a little rough, climbing up and down over and over. And Devin didn’t have anything better to do. He could spare an hour. His gaze fell back on the window over the garage, and once again the trail was in his nose: the best thing he’d ever inhaled. Maybe this old guy sold drugs.

“Do you, uh, need any help?” Devin called.

The man halted halfway up the ladder. “You wanna clean my gutters?”

It was a fair question. Luckily, Devin had studied improv as part of his lifelong commitment to acting, so he was able to turn around a smooth reply.

“Yes. I’m training for a top secret project and I could use the exercise.”

“Uh-huh,” the guy said, clearly unconvinced, but after a long moment of assessment, he sighed, then shrugged. “Some famous actor wants to clean my gutters, I’m not gonna stop ’em.”

The guy’s name was Isaac, Devin learned, as the man set to work clearing an herb garden bed in the front lawn of weeds while Devin took over the gutters. The kind of small talk Devin learned while still in braces revealed that Isaac was some kind of biologist working in wolf conservation. How convenient was that? Devin welcomed any and all resources that could prolong his survival.

“So,” he said, real casual, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, “how does one conserve a wolf?”

Isaac’s laugh carried from the garden bed below. “Well, red wolves are particularly tricky because they’re so close to extinction. We started out introducing a mated pair to the forest in an area designated for their habitat.”

“Not a lone wolf?” Devin scooped up an armful of leaves, determined to ignore the many types of bugs his nose was urging him to categorize. “Doesn’t every pack need an alpha?”

“No,” Isaac said, picking up a pair of shears and starting in on his shrubs. “That concept was introduced based on the behavioral patterns of wolves in captivity. Wolves in the wild are totally different animals.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Devin muttered under his breath. He’d unintentionally sprung from his cage and had never been more vulnerable.

“A mated pair leads the pack together.”

“Mated? You mean like they’re soulmates?” Devin had secretly watched The Notebook seven times.

“Something like that,” Isaac allowed. “After our first pair got acclimated, we were able to slowly bring in pups born in captivity for them to foster. Now, after almost thirty years, we’ve worked our way up to a small population of twenty-five wolves.”

Isaac’s work gave him purpose. Devin knew because he spoke about it with the same determined passion that Devin recognized in himself when he spoke about TAF .

Why did everyone think he was such a loser for wanting to keep Colby alive? Isaac was living proof that it was fine, arguably noble, to build your life around one project, to plant seeds and spend a lifetime tending them. What was so bad about fighting to preserve the place where you belonged?

“The hardest part of my job these days is protecting the pack from humans,” Isaac said grimly.

Devin stilled, his blood running cold. “People shoot ’em?”

The older man nodded. “Or they set traps, leave out poisoned food.”

“That’s fucked up.” Devin dumped his next armful onto the tarp laid below with extra vigor.

“It is.” Isaac let out a gruff sigh. “People don’t like the idea of predators. They work themselves up out of fear. There was an incident over a decade ago where a couple of the wolves went beyond the borders of their habitat and took down some livestock. Now everyone’s afraid they’ll come after the horses. In case you haven’t noticed, people around here are big into horses.”

“You responsible for defending the pack all by yourself?” Devin wasn’t trying to be a dick, but earlier the man looked about an inch from being bested by his gutters.

“I report in to the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission,” Isaac said with pride. “But yeah, I’m the only designated researcher responsible for this pack.”

A newfound kinship with these wolves he’d never met seized Devin. For all he knew, someone would try hunting him one day. Maybe it was because he didn’t really have a family that the idea of this pack losing an elder or a cub made him have to blink really hard. It just seemed evil, that a wolf fucked up one time, and now no one wanted them around anymore.

Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth, saying, “You take volunteers?”

Isaac paused his pruning. “You offering?”

Devin got that it must seem odd. First he insisted on doing the man’s chores; now he wanted to follow him around at work. “I’m in the area for the next couple of weeks, and I’ve got a lot of free time during the day.”

Isaac peered at him for a long moment. Jade would have said he was trying to get the measure of him. Devin’s belly swooped. He’d rather not be found wanting.

“All right,” Isaac said finally. “I’ll give you my card and you can stop by. I’m sure I can find something for you to do.”

Devin waited until he was facing the gutters again to grin.

Wait until he told Alex that he’d found such an awesome resource of wolf knowledge all on his own. She’d probably be proud of him.

To Devin’s surprise, he enjoyed a bit of manual labor. Being outside, getting dirty. It was soothing to have a task that occupied his hands while asking nothing of his mind.

By the time they finished bagging and tagging everything, the sun had set, and Isaac insisted Devin come in for a beer.

Devin wasn’t positive, but he had a feeling he might have made his first friend outside of the industry. At the very least, he and Isaac had potential.

Inside, the house was even smaller than it appeared from the yard. The Good Scent Devin had been tracking grew stronger as Isaac led him through a tidy living room with a decent TV and two big, slightly sagging plaid couches faded from sunlight.

Devin forced himself to breathe normally, not to pick up any of the throw pillows or that handmade quilt and bury his face in them. Everything here, from the wooden table spotted with water rings to the slightly fraying flat-weave rug, gave off the same wildly attractive scent along with the impression of being both loved and lived in.

Someone had painted the walls of the living room a cheerful yellow that reminded Devin of butter slathered on toast. Or maybe he was just hungry. All the walls he’d grown up with were taupe or gray, the kind found in motel rooms and crumbling short-term-rental condominiums. Now he lived in a mansion. A big white square that someone else had decorated.

Devin didn’t know when he’d turned into such a sad sack. Maybe it was the whole creature-of-the-night thing. You didn’t see a lot of happy werewolves.

Isaac put on the Dolphins game and handed Devin a Bud Light. “I gotta get dinner started, but make yourself at home.”

Devin decided it wouldn’t hurt to kick back and watch for a little while, listening to Isaac puttering around in the kitchen, telling Alexa to play the B-52s. Sinking into the couch kicked up a new wave of the Good Scent. Devin hugged a pillow to his chest and took a long swallow of beer.

The Dolphins were down by twelve and Devin had become one with the sofa when, out of nowhere, Alex Lawson walked through the front door wearing an oversized flannel and cupcake-patterned pajama pants.

“Devin?” Her eyes turned to saucers. “Oh my god.” Her hands flew to her damp hair. “Why are you in my house?”

“This is your house?” Devin flopped around like a beached salmon, trying to escape the couch’s clutches and get to his feet.

“My dad’s,” she said, a little sheepishly. “I live above the garage. Hello.” She gestured aggressively at a wall behind him where—Devin turned—school photos of her from what looked like kindergarten to high school followed the ascension of the stairs, a study in disaffected youth.

Oh. No wonder Isaac smelled vaguely familiar.

“Wait.” The puzzle pieces slotted together. “Isaac is your dad?”

“You talked to him?!” Alex sounded less shocked and more pissed by the minute. “Listen.” She crossed her arms. “I agreed to help you out, but we need to have a hard conversation about boundaries right now.”

“Okay, wait a second.” Devin held up his hands. “I did not come here to stalk you. I was in the forest, trying to become one with my wolf—”

“Shhhh.” Alex nodded meaningfully toward the kitchen, where Isaac was singing off-key. “We can’t talk about this here.” She grabbed Devin’s wrist and dragged him into a neighboring coat closet.

It wasn’t until she had him trapped in a three-by-three room with the door shut and one dim light bulb overhead that he realized—

“Oh fuck. You don’t smell bad at all.” Mindlessly, he stepped forward, leaving barely an inch between their bodies as he inhaled the Good Scent straight from the source. Holy shit. It was Alex.

It wasn’t conscious, the decision to step toward her until her back hit the wall, making a series of rain slickers quiver. He didn’t mean to lean down, bracing one hand on the shelf just above her so he could brush his nose against the crown of her head and inhale her shower-damp hair.

Devin couldn’t help the way her gasp at his sudden proximity (or what he belatedly realized was kind of an insult) made him shudder and grit his teeth. He’d done a lot of drugs in his life, and nothing held a candle to huffing Alex Lawson straight from the source.

Devin almost whimpered with the primal urge to shove his face into her neck and sniff her like a glue stick. Whatever chemicals she used at work must have covered up her natural scent the previous times they’d been around each other.

“You should quit your job,” he said, closing his eyes and ignoring other, more feral instincts. “Become, like, an air freshener model.”

“That’s not a thing,” Alex said, but her breath against his chest was uneven. Her heartbeat hectic in his ears.

When Devin opened his eyes, she was looking up at him. No— she was looking at his mouth .

Like a bolt of lightning down his spine, it occurred to Devin that he could probably kiss her. That she might let him. And fuck, he wanted so badly to know if she tasted as good as she smelled.

Normally fans having a crush on him was flattering but awkward. In a lot of ways, “object of desire” felt like just another part he’d been cast in, only no one told him his lines. Devin had to improvise the role of daydream made flesh and hope that he didn’t miss his mark.

Alex’s cheeks flushed from anger or embarrassment or something else. Devin tried to identify the difference in her scent, but he couldn’t. The air in the closet was drenched in hunger. His definitely, but hers too. Except the notes of Alex’s desire were a lot more complicated than his, as if she didn’t want to want him.

Which, okay, yeah. He got it. People wanted Fun and Flirty Devin Ashwood. Not Devin Ashwood Faces Public Humiliation or Devin Ashwood with a Terrible Secret. Scared Shitless Devin Ashwood. Devin Ashwood Turning into a Glorified Dog.

“Sorry.” He pulled back, even though he was pretty sure if he looked down he’d be able to see her nipples through her shirt. “Lost my head there for a second.”

Kissing her was a bad idea, even if she’d changed her mind about making out with him for science. Devin shit where he ate once, metaphorically speaking, with his ex-wife, Erica. At first it was great. Convenient. Spending all your time with your favorite person. But then when the TW didn’t pick up her contract for the next season, she started resenting every time Devin went to work. Mixing business and pleasure wasn’t a mistake he was eager to repeat.

Devin couldn’t afford to alienate Alex. Even if he could find someone else to train him for the upcoming full moon, what were the chances they’d be this smart or this stubborn? Devin was relying on Alex’s abundance of both of those traits to keep his ass out of animal protective services. Or jail. Whichever came first.

He needed to get out of this closet. Swallowing her scent on every inhale wasn’t fucking enough.

“What kind of conditioner do you use?” If it was nontoxic, he could buy some and use it as lube.

The non sequitur made her frown.

“It’s homemade.” She gathered her hair over one shoulder. “Unscented. I have sensitive skin.”

Yeah, he bet. She was pale as moonlight and pinked up in seconds. Devin bet that pretty blush went all the way down her chest. Bet it matched her— Okay, no. Rein it in.

“There’s a chance I may have accidentally tracked you,” he confessed. Talk about a professional conflict of interest.

Alex shook her head. “What?”

“I feel like there’s no normal way to explain this.” Devin backed up as much as the coat closet would allow, almost disappearing behind a weather-resistant parka, and dragged his hand through his hair. He shouldn’t tell her that her pheromones or whatever made him horny, right? Women didn’t like that.

“Nothing about you is normal,” Alex said, still looking dazed.

“Devin?” Isaac called from the kitchen. “You’re not gluten-free or anything, are you?”

When Devin didn’t answer right away, he heard footsteps.

“Oh god, my dad cannot find us alone in here,” Alex whispered furiously. She pushed Devin toward the door with two hands and then proceeded to box him out in her own rush to get to the hall.

They both managed to exit before Isaac rounded the corner wearing a green canvas apron.

“I was just showing Devin here where to leave his shoes,” Alex blurted out, even though no one had asked and Devin was in fact still wearing his shoes.

It didn’t seem to matter. Isaac brightened at the sight of his daughter like the sun breaking above the horizon.

“Oh hey, Al. I was wondering when you’d be over.” He waved dramatically at Devin as if Alex could have missed him standing right beside her. “Did you know your favorite actor was in town?”

Alex smiled bright and brittle. “He’s not my favorite actor.”

“Are you kidding?” Isaac looked between them. “You had such a huge crush on him when you were—”

“You’re thinking of someone else.” Alex tried to shake her head without actually moving her neck.

“What? No, I’m not. I was gonna ask him to take a picture to send to Cam and Eliza. Don’t you think they’d go wild—Oh.” Isaac seemed to finally clue in to his daughter’s discomfort and held up his hands in defeat. “All right. Whatever. Chili’s almost ready.” He pivoted. “Devin, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like. I’m gonna level with you. Food doesn’t taste as good without meat or real cheese, but we do okay.”

Regardless of the wolf’s carnivorous preferences, the offer of a home-cooked meal made Devin’s mouth water.

“I’d love to stay. Thanks,” he said, trying to play it cool. He should care less. In Los Angeles he had a private chef, so technically he ate home-cooked meals all the time. But there was something about Isaac offering him food he’d prepared for himself, for his family, that made Devin’s ears burn. “That sounds great.”

“No.” Alex stepped in front of him, tripping a little over the overlong hem of her PJs in her haste. “Devin can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Isaac, his one friend in this room, sounded genuinely put out.

“Well…” Sweat broke out on Alex’s brow, which was momentarily distracting because it dialed up the salt in her scent and made Devin think of tequila and beaches and body heat.

“I am sure that as a famous actor”—Alex’s tone was not complimentary—“Devin has more important things to do than eat dinner with us.”

“How sweet of you to worry.” Devin very gently chucked Alex under the chin. “But I can’t imagine anything more important than a home-cooked meal with my biggest fan.”

“You better go find them, then,” she ground out between her teeth.

“Al,” her dad said, clearly taken aback at the venom in her tone. “What’s gotten into you? The man spent the last two hours cleaning out our gutters to save your old man’s bad knees.”

“He—What?” She stared at Devin like he’d suddenly sprouted wings.

“Yeah,” Isaac said meaningfully. “So do me a favor and don’t bite his entire head off, huh?”

“Don’t worry. I’m used to fans getting nervous around me.” He winked at Alex.

She made him feel like a kid, ready to pull her pigtails and push her down in the sandbox. Devin blamed the wolf for the instinct to play fight. To tussle.

Alex glared at him like she hoped it flayed the flesh from his bones.

Unfortunately for both of them, all that heat went straight to his dick.

“There’s a really weird energy here.” Isaac pointed between them as he started backing up to the kitchen. “Anyway, dinner’s in five,” he said without fully turning around.

Alex swiveled as soon as they were alone. “Did you really help my dad with yard work?”

“Well, yeah.” Devin bent down to unlace his running shoes, since he was staying. “That would be a weird thing for him to lie about.”

“Why would you do that?” Maybe it was the fuzzy pajama pants, but something gave Devin the impression that she was suddenly small, young.

“He looked a little unsteady,” Devin admitted, collecting his discarded shoes and placing them on the rack by the door.

“I told him not to get up on that ladder.” The new sharp note in Alex’s scent—fear, his brain translated—made Devin’s stomach twist.

Must be sympathy pains.

“He had barely started when I showed up. And I made him come right down.” He explained because he didn’t want Alex yakking on his socks. “He gave me orders from the ground. Seemed like he had a pretty good time, to be honest.”

For the second time in their short acquaintance, Devin watched Alex Lawson pull herself back together in two deep breaths. As an actor, he was impressed.

“Okay,” she said softly after a moment, looking up at him with something that wasn’t anger or distrust. “Well. Thanks. Thank you.”

Almost more than her scent, Devin was fascinated in that moment by the depth with which Alex cared about someone other than herself.

I live above the garage , she’d said. At thirty-four.

He had a feeling Alex had given up a lot more than meat to take care of her dad over the years. And sure, Devin had sacrificed plenty for his parents. Birthday parties, graduation ceremonies, several million dollars. But not by choice.

“I would have thought cleaning out gutters was beneath you, but I guess…I don’t actually know you, and maybe I should give you a little more credit.” Her dark brown eyes didn’t look as strange in this low light. They were almost pretty. Like dark pools, he thought, deep enough for someone to get lost in.

“Maybe,” she stressed when Devin gave her his toothiest grin.

His wolf instincts suggested he try scenting her again.

Dude. No. Read the room.

Man, he needed to learn some control. Stat.

At least he couldn’t try to mount her in front of her dad. Well, probably.

To Devin’s pleasant surprise, he enjoyed Isaac’s vegan chili, and the jalapeno corn bread he served on the side was even better. He happily accepted offers of seconds and thirds.

Alex and Isaac’s dinner table chat was like watching cats wrestle: hard to follow but entertaining. They lapsed in and out of stories, mentioning people he didn’t know and would never meet, but the cadence and teasing tone delivered an easy kind of comfort, a borrowed familiarity that reminded Devin of the sitcom reruns he put on at home when his glass house rang hollow.

Isaac topped up his water from a fat-bellied pitcher. “Got your notes ready for Wednesday, Al?”

“Mostly.” Alex crumbled the remainder of her corn bread into tiny pieces that didn’t make it to her mouth.

“What’s on Wednesday?” Devin wanted whatever gossip made her wilt like a wildflower.

“Town council meeting,” her dad explained. “Al here goes every month to try and get donations for the old community center on Braintree despite the fact that the only kind of recreation people care about in Tompkins comes on hooves.”

Getting to her feet abruptly, Alex gathered empty bowls. “I’m gonna get started on the dishes.”

“I’ll help,” Devin offered. He saw a dinner guest do that once on Mad Men .

“Why are you embarrassed about advocating for a community center?” he asked in the kitchen as he grabbed the chili pot from the stove and brought it over to the sink. “Seems like an honorable cause.”

Alex loaded the dishwasher, clanging ceramics together in her haste. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Devin closed one eye and practiced tuning in to her heartbeat the way he had over coffee. Sure enough, it was erratic.

“It’s weird that you lie so much when you’re this bad at it.”

She startled and then scowled. “I never should have taught you how to do that. It’s rude.”

Devin smiled and turned on the faucet, filling the empty pot with water.

He’d started to think her gruffness was a thin shell. This whole “I hate everything and everyone” shtick might work on those content to never look beyond her tattoos and piercings, but Devin was an actor—he couldn’t help but be compelled by a character study in contradictions. As far as he could tell, Alex did care. A lot.

“What is it about this community center that makes you fight for them?”

Alex pulled detergent from a cabinet.

“I grew up going there with my mom,” she said, uncapping and pouring it, not looking at him. “She used to say it was the only place in this town where she felt welcome.”

Devin turned off the water. There were no signs of a third occupant in this house. No scent, no photographs.

“She left me and my dad when I was in high school, and I stopped going because it hurt too much.” Alex closed the dishwasher with her hip and sighed. “I thought I was done with this town and everyone in it. But then my dad got sick my second year of college, and suddenly I found myself back in Tompkins without a job or a social life. No one would have me except the TCC. I started volunteering at the front desk, and then after a while they let me pilot a queer youth mentorship program.”

She did look at Devin then, leaning back against the counter with the faintest trace of a smile.

“And the kids are just the best. They’re funny and weird and smart and…the TCC reminds them they belong, even when other voices say they don’t.”

“That sounds really nice.” Devin did not consider himself particularly woke, but he followed the news enough to know there was no bigot shortage in Florida. “I bet you’re real good at fundraising on their behalf.”

Alex laughed hollowly and shook her head. “I’m a disaster. I never get any donations. The whole thing’s an exercise in futility.”

“But…it’s a community center. We’re talking like indoor basketball? Pottery classes?” Didn’t people in the suburbs go wild for that shit? Hell, if Devin wasn’t careful, a couple more days of boredom in this town and he’d be signing up to get Swayzed there himself. “How hard of a sell can it be?”

Alex looked at him for a long moment, like she was trying to decide if he was making fun of her. Which, come on. His comedic timing wasn’t that bad. She’d know.

“Local politics are a popularity contest.” She came to stand next to him, pouring soap on a sponge and reaching for the pot. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly well-liked around here.”

“Yeah, I meant to ask you, what’s the deal with those guys from the bar hassling you? Did you accidentally euthanize their dogs or…”

Devin’s wolf still wanted vengeance for the way they’d made her heart race. It had taken everything in him to resist shifting in the parking lot knowing he had zero control, telling himself Alex didn’t need him committing cold-blooded murder where she could be called to stand as a witness.

She finished with the pot and handed it to him, nodding toward a towel looped through the handle on the oven. “I guess you could say I ‘raged against the machine’ a little in my misbegotten youth, and people in this town have a long memory.”

Devin dried. “So what if you make a bad first impression?” In that case it was simple. “You just need to get people to take a second look.”

Alex scoffed. “Trust me. I have lived here almost my entire life. They’ve looked plenty. Half the guys I went to high school with still call me ‘Casper, the Unfuckable Ghost.’?”

Devin pressed his lips together. It wasn’t funny.

“It’s fine.” She took the pot from him and hung it on a rack above the stove. “I have always cared too much about things people in this town think don’t matter and not enough about the things they think do.”

Devin should let it go. It wasn’t his problem. Only…

“I can help you.” And what was more surprising, he wanted to.

He’d been so lost, so useless, not just this last week but practically since The Arcane Files went off the air. But earning public approval? That was, like, his thing.

And if Devin was a little addicted to the way Alex had looked at him after she found out he’d helped her dad—like maybe, just maybe, he had the potential to be some sliver of Colby—well, no one else had to know.

She came to stand in front of him, a small chili stain on the collar of her flannel. “What do you mean?”

Devin stood up a little straighter. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, of all people, but I happen to be very likable.”

It was one of his skills, along with crying on demand and eating it from the back.

“All we need to do is put forth your greatest asset.”

Alex frowned. “I’m not gonna take off my top.”

“No.” But more on that later. “I meant me. Obviously.”

He might be terrible at making deep, abiding friendships, but he knew how to make people pant at a surface level.

“I can totally help you out.”

Alex wrinkled her nose. “Help me out how, exactly?”

Maybe help you take out that nose ring for starters. Devin didn’t say that.

“I can make you look good. Like, let’s say everyone around here starts seeing us hanging out, right? They’d be like, ‘Okay. Damn. This chick’s spending time with Devin Ashwood? Must not be such a bitch after all.’ To be clear, that was someone else talking, not me.”

He’d barely known her a handful of days, but it was obvious just from being in their home, observing them together, that Alex was never gonna leave her dad. And based on the passion with which he spoke about wolves, her dad was never gonna leave his work here in Ocala. Devin might as well use his limited stint in town to make their lives a little more bearable.

“Are you…” Deep creases appeared on Alex’s forehead. “Suggesting we ‘fake date’?”

“Whoa. No. Jesus.” Devin took an involuntary step back. “Who said anything about dating? I was offering to be your fake friend .” He didn’t wanna be mean, but the two of them? As a couple? No one would buy it.

But friends? Sure, maybe. He was a seasoned actor after all. And this was kinda like a good deed. Almost as nice as one of those Make-A-Wish things. He’d always thought it was really cool how many times John Cena took kids to Disney World.

Alex still looked confused. “So you would, what, come with me to the town council meeting?”

“Yeah. Why not?” As he’d told her father earlier, Devin didn’t exactly have plans outside of werewolf training. “Besides, it’s probably a good idea to socialize my wolf around crowds. You’re supposed to do that with dogs, right? To make them less likely to bite people.”

“That is true.” Alex sounded resigned.

“Great,” Devin said. “It’s settled. I’ll escort you around town for the next week and make everyone think you’re cool.”

Alex’s mouth twisted like she was sucking on a lemon.

“You know, if you want people to like you, you should really work on your resting face,” Devin told her. “Do you know about ‘smizing’?”