Truth or Wolf: A Small Town Shifter Romantic Comedy (Wolf Brothers Book 1)

Chapter 8

Eight

Where does a werewolf sleep? Anywhere he wants to.

— PATRICIA brIGGS

I’d expected to find an empty yard when I returned to the spot where Aunt Sally’s trailer had stood (or at least, as empty as it could get considering she’d been a bit of a hoarder). I’d told myself that it could be a nice symbol of starting over. A blank slate.

To my surprise, it was not empty.

There was a house where there had once been the remains of the trailer and the tree-catastrophe.

A teeny, absolutely darling, tiny house.

The house was pink with white trim and had a white picket fence. There was a tin roof that would sound amazing when it rained and I was tucked up in bed. It was the cutest, most feminine thing I’d ever seen.

But the pretty scene was marred by the big snarly wolf-man lounging in one of the Adirondack chairs that had been set out on the postage stamp-sized front deck. He was glowering anxiously and wearing his usual lumberjack outfit of a black thermal and faded blue jeans that hugged his thighs and hips.

As I walked up—after pinching myself to verify this was not some kind of weird house-porn dream—I realized the shirt’s color made his eyes almost gray.

He kept right on glowering, his stern gaze never leaving my face, and I promptly got all hot. Ford’s grumpiness bothered me in all sorts of sexy ways, and not because we’d spent yesterday afternoon kissing in his tack room.

“Why are you here? Why is there a HOUSE here?” I walked up the steps and waved a hand around Aunt Sally’s yard.

It was Thursday afternoon and I’d finished my shift at Vanity Fur Salon. Alessandro had asked me to meet him here because he wanted to choose some things to remember Aunt Sally by.

Instead of answering my question. Ford snagged my hand and pulled me down onto his lap. I landed less than gracefully, provoking an annoying smirk from him, but then he leaned into me and gave me a soft, hot kiss that made me stop being annoyed and start wondering exactly how much time we had before Alessandro showed up.

Once I was breathless from his kissing, he leaned back, his big hands holding my hips as if he wasn’t ready to let go of me. I liked that, although his next words had me frowning.

“Welcome home.”

My mouth fell open for obvious reasons—if wishful thinking could have transformed a broken-down trailer into a cute little cottage, the real estate market would have been revolutionized—and stared at him.

“Welcome…home?”

“Yeah.” A smile-smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Your home. You can move in now, or you can put it on the market and buy something you like better.”

“I’m confused.” I needed four eyeballs because half of me wanted to memorize Ford’s beautiful, grumpy face, but the other half wanted to check out the amazing cottage that had sprouted on Aunt Sally’s trailer pad.

It looked like something from Pinterest. I didn’t know anything about tiny homes, but this one was a chocolate box of a house.

“While we negotiate a price for the land, you need a place to stay. This one is yours. We can move it later if you want.”

I blinked more rapidly than a firefly looking for a mate. Ford was speaking English, but I was not following. “Whose house is this? Where did it come from? Did it fall out of the sky like the house that landed on the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz?”

There had been no tornado warnings that I was aware of, but clearly anything was possible.

“I built it. I got a kit.” Ford picked up my hand and curled my fingers around a key. The pink ribbon tied to the key matched the paint on the house.

“You built it?”

“Yeah.”

“In a few days?”

Ford nodded.

My gaze bounced between the key I was holding and the man who was holding me. This was… I was… “You can’t build me a house.”

He shrugged. “Sure I can. I know it’s a common misconception that men won’t follow directions, but I made an exception for you.”

“It’s an entire house! It’s too much. I mean, I’m no expert on dating, but this is not what you bring someone on a first date.”

He regarded me intently. “What do you bring?”

“I…” was not sure what part of not an expert had failed to register with him. “Flowers. Candy. A scented candle or maybe bug spray if you’re going walking in the Tennessee woods.”

I waved my hands around as if I could pluck reasonable, coherent words out of the air. He clearly did not understand dating any more than I did. “This is nuts. You’re too much.”

A slow smile lit up his face, here and then gone like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. I made a mental note that Ford Boone liked getting me all riled up.

“Go inside. Check it out.” He lifted me gently off his lap, then plucked the key from my hand and reached around me to insert it into the lock.

I stood there sandwiched between Ford and the front door, his torso pressed up against my back as he reached an arm over me to push the door gently open. This must be what it felt like to be standing at the pearly gates, watching them swing wide. It was…magical.

“You gonna go in, baby?”

Because I had the curiosity of a cat, I did look inside. My feet crossed the threshold all of a foot, and I looked and then looked some more.

There was a little galley kitchen with maple wood countertops and blue cabinetry. Someone had painted the window frames a matching blue and left them open to catch the night air. White shiplap lined the walls, and the floors were honey-colored hardwood. A fairytale-worthy staircase curved up and up to a sleeping loft. A bathroom, door ajar, sparkled with subway and Moroccan tiles.

And, miracle of miracles, a minuscule mudroom with built-in cat beds and litter boxes had been prepared for Emperor Meowpatine and his entourage. There was even a teeny desk with a notepad and pen already set out for writing lists.

“I can’t,” I said, more reluctantly than I cared to admit. No one expected a house as a present, not unless they were related to the Queen of England. I could not accept this.

Ford gave me a soft kiss. “Sure you can. Don’t you want a house?”

“Of course I do. But that’s not the point.” I forced myself to look away from the house and faced him. I had to curl my fingers around the doorframe (pink!) because my house lust was sucking me inside. “This doesn’t make sense. I should go look at rental lists or get an Airbnb until I’ve got Aunt Sally’s stuff sorted out.”

“No.” His eyes sheeted amber. I’d noticed that happened when he was frustrated. “This is a perfectly good house. It’s small, yes. But it meets all the zoning and permitting laws. I’ve had a licensed electrician and plumber out to hook things up, and I’ve done all the rest myself.

“It has four good walls, a ceiling, locks on the doors. I wouldn’t ask you to stay anywhere unsafe. You’ll be comfortable here, and you won’t be wasting money on a rental.”

I shook my head and threaded my fingers through his. He’d misunderstood me. “This is a gorgeous house.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that it’s a house. It is far too valuable for you to go around lending. Do you think you’re Oprah?”

“It’s not a loan,” he said obstinately. “It’s a gift.”

My mouth fell open. “Ford.”

“You deserve a nice house.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He frowned at me.

“Why would you give me a house?”

“Because you need one and I could do it. You don’t have a place of your own to stay. You’d let me give you a hoodie or a casserole, right?”

“This is a house,” I gritted out. “It’s not the same thing at all. You’re comparing a drop of water with an entire ocean! You could rent this out for a fortune!”

He shrugged. “I can’t rent it because I gave it to you.”

“You can’t give me a HOUSE!” I hollered.

“I CAN!” he shouted back, making the windows rattle.

I’d known Ford was stubborn, having experienced it firsthand on more than one occasion. Right now, however, he was reminding me his stubbornness could be both a blessing and a curse.

He’d nominated himself to take care of me, having decided that someone should do it, and I was discovering that kisses were not the only seductive thing in this world. His desire to take care of me was also appealing. He didn’t ask; he just went ahead and did it.

He gave me the faintest shadow of a grin, the hard line of his jaw underlining his determination. He’d made up his mind, and that was that.

Ford had to be the most irritating, stubborn man I’d ever met…and he was also the most thoughtful. He wanted to fix things for me, take care of me. That simultaneously made him the nicest and most presumptuous thing ever.

“You want to know something?” He banded his arms around my middle, his mouth brushing my ear. I shivered. The man had an unfair advantage—he could wrap me up in all his sexy. How was I supposed to resist?

“I bet you’ll tell me,” I grumped.

He snorted. “I’m gonna win this argument for one reason.”

I shook my head. “It’s not going to be because you’re right.”

He nipped my ear. “I’m gonna win because there’s no way you can move this house on your own.”

He made a good point.

Also, he was going to win because I was weak and I coveted his house. And him. And him in what was apparently now my new house.

“All right,” I conceded. “Yes. Temporarily. For now. Thank you.”

The grin on his face grew like the sun coming up over the horizon or something suitably poetic. Looking out for me made Ford happy. This was very much a win-win situation from my point of view.

Plus, I liked making him laugh and feel good. And it was starting to seem like all I had to do was show up and be myself. It was intoxicating. He didn’t want me to be someone different, and he definitely wanted to spoil me. I could live with that.

I let him nudge me all the way inside and then I gave up resisting and bounced around like a bargain shopper on Black Friday, checking everything out. How could any girl resist? He’d built me a HOUSE. Even better, I realized as I checked it out, he’d salvaged what he could from Aunt Sally’s things.

“I can’t believe you built me a little love shack,” I told him.

He snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“You think I should name it? Temporarily?” It would be like naming the kitten that followed you home: I would fall in love and never, ever give it back.

“You bet.” Ford leaned against the wall, doing that sexy, smoldering slouch that men seemed to know how to perform instinctively. He was the best wall art ever.

“The Little Love Den, it is.” I grinned at him. I had no idea how to thank him. Words did not seem sufficient.

Still trying to work it out, I climbed up into the sleeping loft and laid down on the bed. The skylight above my head would offer a view of the stars come nightfall, and Aunt Sally’s favorite blue-and-white quilt on the bed. I didn’t know how he’d managed to save the bed covering from the wreckage, but there it was, clean and only a little the worse for wear.

I rolled over onto my stomach, resting my chin on my hands. With Ford on the stairs, this made our faces level. It was like a scene from a romance novel where the heroine is up in the hayloft and the hero-stablehand pokes his head through the trapdoor and then everything was lined up for kissing. In other words, it was a sign from the universe. I’m listening, Universe.

Ford looked at me stoically. “I know you don’t need rescuing. You’re strong and smart. You can fix anything. But maybe you could let me help.”

“Why?” People, in my experience, did not actually help for no reason at all. Sometimes they did it to feel good at their church or because they were paying back someone else’s help that they felt guilty for. Most of the time, however, they wanted something in return. My parents had certainly believed you had to work hard and free lunches did not exist.

Ford rested his corded forearms on top of the stairs. He had all these interesting lines and muscles in his arms that moved and flexed. All I had to do was reach out and I could have my wicked way with him. I liked this closeness, although it made me nervous.

“Because it makes me feel good to be your white knight. You could let me help.”

“When did you get to be such a good talker?” The Ford I remembered stomped and snarled. He’d never been one for persuasive argument.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m very motivated.”

I decided we needed a new topic of conversation. “So how much does a house like this cost? What strings are attached? No one gives away houses for free.”

To give Ford credit, he looked horrified. “This isn’t a sex thing.”

“Ford Boone, I’m ashamed of you!” The corners of his mouth quirked up, and somehow my fingers were tracing those cute little dents. “So you never, ever want thank-you sex? Or I’m-so-grateful sex?”

He exhaled, sounding put-upon. “It’s a gift, Alice.”

“So I should feel free to give you gifts?” He frowned, but I kept right on teasing him. “Like, what if I wanted to give you a kiss?”

“That,” he said gravely, “would be acceptable.”

We were practically kissing now, so it was hardly inconvenient.

I fisted the front of his thermal and tugged him toward me, and I kissed him.

THANK YOU!

That’s what my mouth started out saying, anyhow, but then the conversation went off the rails.

Someone (me) was making husky, whimpering noises, and someone else (him) groaned, and then there was a whole lot of YES and MORE PLEASE and LIKE THAT? and YOU BET being exchanged between us.

I got to be in charge for only two seconds. Ford took over our kissing, his big hand cupping the back of my head and angling my face toward his. His mouth covered mine, devouring me like he couldn’t wait another moment to get inside me.

This worked for me. I melted into his kiss despite the awkward kissing logistics. His mouth moved over mine, his tongue making hot forays inside my mouth as he staked his claim.

I felt worked up and hot, restless and energized, all at once. I also felt safer and more at home than I ever had, which I suspected was going to be a problem. My imagination sprinted off into a future where Ford and I kissed all the time like this.

But then the sharp staccato of a fist hammering on my (MY!) new front door jolted me back into the present. Ford’s hand slipped away as he turned to glare at the intruder.

“What the hell is happening here?” Alessandro barged through my front door without waiting for an invitation, glaring angrily at Ford.

I knocked my forehead against my new bed. “Alessandro! Did I say you could come in?”

“What is going on here?” Alessandro didn’t sound chastened—he sounded pissed off.

I shook my head and buried my face in the bed. “You can’t tell? Did you miss sex ed in high school?”

Ford made a choked noise. I blamed it on my saying sex in front of my third cousin twice removed.

“Alice…” Alessandro propped his hands on his hips. He wore his animal control officer uniform, which consisted of sensible khaki pants an olive-green uniform shirt. His shiny gold badge was pinned over his heart and he sported an official patch on his arm. I was supposed to be impressed, I was sure.

But I wasn’t a stray dog, and I was tired of the people in my life deciding that they knew best for me. My parents had argued that, after college, I should go work for a big company like Petco or Chewy and learn the pet business ropes from experts. They also thought moving to Nashville at my age was overly ambitious and that instead I should be focused on internships, externships, and listening to them.

I was so tired of it that I gave in to the urge to misbehave.

“Look! The house fairy’s come! And left a house under my pillow.” And then when Alessandro’s eyes narrowed, directing a glare my way, I gave up altogether on being nice. “It’s like a Barbie house except that it comes with a Ford doll instead of a plastic boy toy.”

Ford made a rough sound. I promptly added it to my catalog of Ford sounds. It was husky and amused with notes of disbelief.

“This is your house?” Alessandro looked stunned. He, too, was surprised to see Aunt Sally’s old trailer replaced with a cute cottage.

“Mm-hmm. I came out here and I found this house. If you’ll excuse me, I have my Ford to play with.” I gave Alessandro another moment (I was feeling generous) to process his disbelief before I stabbed a finger at the door. “Out. Feel free to start going through the stuff outside.”

Much to my surprise, Alessandro turned and stormed outside.

Having my third cousin twice removed stomping around the yard was better than any contraceptive.

I would not be fooling around with Ford where Alessandro could storm in on us. Again.

“We need to go,” I told Ford.

He looked at me steadily, a whole lot of heat in his dark eyes. That heat was cohabitating with some very sexy promises along and, for a moment, I was tempted to pull him up into the loft and set about convincing him to christen my new bed.

The sound of Alessandro investigating Aunt Sally’s inexplicable collection of toilet lawn ornaments was a deterrent, however.

I settled for landing a quick kiss on his mouth.

“Later,” I promised him.

He nodded and retreated down the steps. I followed. I’d never owned a house before, and my new place had won me over. It felt like more than a place to sleep or live in.

I’ll take care of you, I mentally told Little Love Den. I love you and I will always, always hire a trained arborist to prune the big, nasty trees in your yard.

I let Ford tug me outside and then I fussed around with the key. Most folks didn’t bother locking their doors in Moonlight Valley, but I wasn’t going to take any chances and it would be dark in a few hours. Alessandro shot us a glare-glance as we walked past him, and I decided to ignore him.

It was the perfect temperature for a walk, plus Ford knew these woods. Perhaps he’d run around them in his wolf form?

He set a big, warm hand at the small of my back and gently steered me along a path that was more or less invisible. It took us through a hollow surrounded by hardwood trees and filled with mostly waist-high grasses. As far as hiking trails went, it was easy and pretty, although I had some unwelcome thoughts about deer ticks.

The more dark set in, the more the fireflies came out, blinking and flashing. We were basically walking through a gigantic firefly orgy. No big deal.

Briefly, I wondered whether I should be making conversation, but the silence between us was companionable. I liked that I didn’t have to rush to fill it up with words.

I looked at Ford from the corner of my eye and caught him watching me. He had donned his usual inscrutable expression, and I had no idea what he was thinking. He’d done so much for me—I felt like I should have done a better job of thanking him.

He shook his head, as if he could read my mind. “We’re good.”

We were. We walked in companionable silence, holding hands and enjoying the woods. I didn’t have to be interesting or sexy, flirty or Pulitzer-Prize-winning smart. It was enough to enjoy some time together.

Our quiet time did suffer some when I heard Alessandro’s truck roaring passive-aggressively away, the rumble of his diesel engine echoing off the trees.

“The coast is clear,” I announced, more jubilantly than was polite.

The corners of Ford’s mouth quirked up. “Alessandro wants what’s best for you. I mean, he’s a jackass, but?—”

“But he’s an affectionate donkey?”

Ford lifted one shoulder. “He’s annoying, but he’s your family.”

“Ford Boone, you do know what year this is, correct?”

He gave me a small head tip.

“Because,” I continued, “I don’t need my family’s approval if, say, I wanted to date someone. I would be free to see them because it was what I chose to do. I’m the only one whose permission is needed and I already gave it!”

Ford threaded his fingers through mine and raised my hand to his mouth. His lips teased my skin. “I should warn you then that we wolves take our mating seriously. We settle down with one person for life.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Do you believe in fated mates? Or some kind of supernatural sign like a blue moon?”

I didn’t want to make fun of his traditions or beliefs, but I’d also read romance novels where the hero knew as soon as he met the heroine that she was his one and only. I liked that thought—it was straightforward, sure, and free of the usual dating awkwardness. Instead of going to a bar and hoping to meet your perfect person, the moon or your wolf instincts or whatever pointed him or her out to you.

“No.”

“So then what?” Part of me, I had to admit, was disappointed.

He looked thoughtful. “Not fated. That would imply I didn’t have a choice.”

“And do you? Have a choice, that is?” I was far more invested in his answer than I should have been.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, his eyes heating. “I would choose you.”

I might have flushed. This was the best—and the worst—answer ever, one that filled me with both anticipation and dread. Bottom line: this man was not fooling around. He’d looked at me and he’d decided he wanted his chance. Not that Ford Boone was some kind of Neanderthal who wouldn’t take no for an answer. He would.

The problem was that I wanted to give him a yes.

“When did you decide that you wanted to be a business owner?” Ford asked.

“For as long as I can remember,” I admitted. “I used to sit under my daddy’s desk at his work in the summers, before they started sending me to Aunt Sally’s. School was out, and they never could line up enough childcare because they worked ridiculously long hours.

“One year when I was little, I’d been given a plastic cash register and a hundred-piece grocery set. I decided to go into business, but I was also convinced that it was unethical to sell fakes, so I cleaned out the kitchen and held a sale in front of our house. I sold two hundred dollars’ worth of groceries for ten dollars and twenty cents.”

Ford laughed. “Is that so?”

“I was real popular with our neighbors.

“Later on, I started reading every business book I could get my hands on. I worked one summer in the pet store two towns over from Moonlight Valley. My parents were fine with it because Aymeses always work.

“You came in once when I was working, do you remember? You made me look up fourteen different kinds of kitten formula and call you sir.”

He snorted. “I came in every day for a week to make you do that.”

He had and I’d wanted to kill him. “I’d see you in there with your momma and Rebel, sometimes Ranger. He liked to look at the tropical fish.”

There was a flash of something large and furry, sleek and almost silver. It was a white wolf, here and then gone on the edge of the clearing.

“Someone you know?”

I couldn’t read the expression that flashed over Ford’s face. “Not all wolves are people too.”

“How do you tell them apart?”

He shrugged. “Scent, mostly.”

The path, such as it was, petered out, leaving us standing on the bank of a creek that wound its way through the hardwood trees. The moonlight filtered down through the branches and the creek swept on past, whispering secrets. It was magical.

“This was my momma’s favorite spot for a walk.”

We both looked around the clearing, as if she might appear.

“I was sorry to hear about her.” I wrapped my arms around Ford’s middle, squeezing gently. “She was a special person and I know everyone in Moonlight Valley misses her and hopes she’ll be back. If there’s something I can do, please let me know.”

I was sure lots of people had told Ford and his brothers exactly this. But I meant it. I wanted—needed—to be here for him, however I could.

He nodded, pressing his lips together as he hugged me. Offer accepted.

“It’s complicated,” he said gruffly, his mouth brushing my hair. “But thank you.”

I didn’t think running off was all that complicated. It also didn’t seem like something that Mrs. Boone would have done. No one had ever doubted that she loved her family. (Well, with the obvious exception of Boone Senior but, as Aunt Sally had said more than once, a woman had to take the bad with the good and we all knew which category he fell into.)

After a while, we stopped talking, walked back to my new house, and let the memories be for now.

Sitting on that porch with Ford, time slipped as gently away as if we were watching water bugs skate lazy circles on the creek’s surface. You kind of forgot that you had places to be, a to-do list, obligations. It was nice.

I couldn’t help but think about future evenings like this and how nice it would be to always have Ford as my porch buddy. How it was both safe and seductively disturbing, this casual intimacy between us.

And how I wouldn’t have missed this night for anything.