THREE
Honey
Gryff kind of freezes up when I ask him to be my fake boyfriend, and I immediately wish I could cram the words back into my mouth.
I hadn’t realized how lonely it would feel to be back in my childhood home without Mom and Dad until I got here and the full force of everything that happened with Bri hit me.
Gryff’s sternly rugged face creases into a grimace. “I take it back. Anything but that. That I can’t help you with.”
“Oh.” My throat is tight, and I have no idea what to say to that. It was a stupid idea anyway. Who wants a girlfriend that acts like a flame for every other guy around her—even if it is fake? “Yeah, I guess I see why—”
“Yeah. Sorry. Listen. I have to get back to um… the dishes. I have to do the dishes. I’ll see you round, kid.”
Kid! I’m still stinging at his dismissal as he turns and stomps up his back steps, slamming his worn wooden door behind him. Geez. Mom warned me that their neighbor can be a little prickly, but I always thought it was the adorable kind where you can tell he’s actually a big softie on the inside.
I wasn’t prepared for his temper to have claws as sharp as he does in his werewolf form. But I guess I wasn’t prepared for the little, feeble bud of hope that sprung up when he didn’t react to me. Turns out the guy is just so grouchy he probably hates everyone.
Then a new idea occurs to me. Gryff is my dad’s best friend. One of my dad’s only friends. Dad doesn’t really like people. He likes me and Mom because we’re his people and we get him. But Gryff and Dad hang out once a week and play cards.
Which I guess makes him feel weird about the thought of dating me, even if it is fake. Which would explain why he looked at me like I asked him to swallow a bag of worms when I asked him to be my fake boyfriend.
God, sometimes I'm such an idiot. I hope I didn't embarrass him.
With a sigh, I collect the groceries off the lawn and let myself inside where I make myself put them away rather than dumping them in the kitchen and curling up in bed to have yet another good cry.
I’ve spent my whole adult life wishing guys would stop noticing me. Well now I’ve met someone who wants nothing to do with me, so why do I keep thinking about him? It’s like my stupid brain can't handle that Gryff is different.
It's funny. The way Dad described Gryff, I always thought of him as much older. My parents’ age. But he can't be more than forty, and honestly I'd put him at more like thirty-five. A cute thirty-five.
Ugh, what is wrong with me today? I can't seem to untangle my brain from the way it wants to wrap around my grumpy werewolf neighbor and cling on.
I’ve been waiting all morning for the groceries to arrive so I can make an iced tea.
But when I finally go through the motions of making the tea and pouring myself a glass, it tastes too bitter.
I add another enormous spoonful of sugar and sit in my mom’s favorite chair, waiting for them to answer my message letting them know I got their delivery.
I mean, I had to collect the groceries from where the delivery guy left them strewn on the lawn after Gryff chased him off, but I got them.
It was sweet of Mom and Dad to do that for me.
Just like them, taking any excuse to spoil me.
They always have. Even when I try to stop them.
It’s hot and stuffy in the house, and the old aircon unit is busted, so I strip off down to my tank top and panties, wiping the outside of the cold glass against my forehead to cool me down.
My laptop bings, and I paste a weary smile on my face as I hit the button to make the call. A moment later Mom answers, and her face pops into screen on the ceiling. She frowns, reaches forward and adjusts the camera so it’s straight, then the screen rotates and she’s coming out of the wall.
I laugh. “Mom, turn off the auto-rotate.”
“It is off! I never turned it on.”
Dad tuts and grabs the tablet, tapping the screen, and a moment later the image rights itself. “You always say that, but you turn it on every time you watch that program in bed with all those silly people in bonnets, and then you complain whenever you get a call.” He pushes his glasses up his nose.
Mom laughs. “Oh you’re right. So I do! Silly old me. Sit closer, Bill. Honey wants to see your face. That’s better.”
Dad only rolls his eyes and leans close to the screen. “Do you though? Look at me. I’m looking old.”
There’s a flip in my stomach when I notice the deep lines in his forehead. Maybe it’s just the light, but he’s not wrong. They’re both looking older than I remember.
My parents had given up on kids by the time they adopted me. They're older than most of the parents of the monsters I went to school with, but I've never thought of them as old. It's an uncomfortable feeling.
Mom laughs. “Oh do hush. Now, Honey, how are you, love? Are you eating enough?”
I flush. The way Mom puts emphasis on the word eating tells me she’s not talking about food.
I always hate talking about this with my parents.
They adopted me when I was so young I can't remember my real mother.
Not that she ever bothered to contact me again.
In my heart of hearts I worry I'll turn out like her. Using people, preying on them to get what I need. “Yeah. I’m fine,” I tell Mom quickly.
I can get by just by masturbating. I always have because ever since the incident in high school the year I hit puberty, I didn't want to hurt anyone else ever again.
She narrows her eyes. “Your skin looks pale. I hope you’re not lying to me, young lady! When you were tiny, your birth mom told us—”
“Mom!”
Dad elbows her. “Stop that. Save your nagging for me. Now have you settled in? Is everything working? Your mother couldn’t wait to get away, and I think we forgot to turn the hot water back on once you told us you were coming.”
“It’s all good,” I reassure them. “Everything is working.” I don’t mention the aircon.
I know if I do they’ll send someone to fix it, and I also know that until they sell the house, their finances are tight.
That’s why I’m here. I’m going to do this place up cheaply so they get a good price for it and can retire in comfort.
It’s the least I can do after everything they’ve done to take care of me.
At least I hope so. I’ve been watching DIY videos online like mad trying to learn everything there is to know about home renovations, but I still feel woefully unprepared.
“Good. Now you just make sure and let us know if you need anything. I feel terrible about you out there on your own when you could be here with us enjoying some sunshine.” Mom smiles.
“Nah, you know I never liked the beach, Mom. I’m good. Honestly. What I want right now is just some peace and quiet.”
Her brow creases in concern. “I wish you’d tell us what happened, Honey. A trouble shared is a trouble halved.”
“Yeah, it’s OK. I already feel better just being here.
” That’s no lie. Despite the incident with the delivery driver and Gryff, the grouchy next-door neighbor, I am feeling better.
Just being surrounded by the sights and smells of the place I grew up in kinda makes me feel like a kid again.
I honestly wish I could go back to that time in my life sometimes. Back before all my problems started.
Curiosity gets the better of me when I start thinking about the grumpy werewolf, and I fight to keep my voice casual as I say, “Dad? I know you said your neighbor is a little… reclusive, but is there anything else I should know? Like, he’s not dangerous, is he?”
Dad’s brows lift. “Gryff? Nah, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, not unless that fly was hurting someone he cared about. Guy’s bark is worse than his bite. Why?”
I knew there was more to him than the growly guy that meets the eye. “No. Just wondered about him. He came out to, um… to say hello. I don’t remember him from before we moved out of town.”
There’s a tightness around Dad’s mouth when he answers. “Honey, there’s some things only another veteran would understand. Gryff’s seen things. Ugly things. I don’t think you would want me to explain.”
Oh! Poor Gryff. I don’t know much about the war, but Dad’s tone says everything.
Mom grips the sides of the tablet and turns the camera toward her.
“Look, Gryff is a good guy. He spent the first few years after we moved back to Mosswood holed up in his house. Wouldn’t talk to anyone.
But I’m glad he came out to speak to you.
That’s good. A good sign. I was worried about him, to be honest, now that we’ve decided to move away, but I hope this means he’s ready to get out and socialize again with more folks. ”
Dad nods, and my heart squeezes for Gryff, wishing that was true.
I avoid mentioning to my parents the way he stormed back inside his house and slammed the door when I stupidly asked him to be my fake boyfriend.
What was I thinking? I need to leave the poor guy alone.
The last thing I need to be doing is poking the bear—or the werewolf as the case may be.
I spend another half hour talking to my parents until Dad announces he’s ending the call so we can all do something else. His blunt way of speaking can be abrasive if you don’t know him, but anyone who does can see it comes from a good place. Maybe Gryff is like that.
Ugh, I need to stop thinking about him. It’s clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me. The sooner I put him out of my head and get on with doing up the house, the better.
My mom has packed up most of the spare linen, but I get out some fresh sheets and make the bed. Then I walk around the place and make some notes, trying to look at it from a potential buyer’s point of view. That’s hard to do in the childhood home you have fond memories of, but I get the hang of it.
There’s chipped paint in the living room and kitchen, and the bathroom is dated. Wood paneling on the walls is years out of fashion, and there’s too much clutter. I will need to pack up most of the knick-knacks and personal items and find somewhere to store them.
Then I head out into the yard. That’s actually looking pretty good. It’s big, and Mom keeps the garden pretty neat. The garage is a problem though. You can’t even fit a car in here anymore. Dad has too much stuff.
I honestly think there are boxes here my dad hasn’t opened in twenty years.
They’re all clearly labeled and dated and absolutely full of odds and ends and objects I’m not even sure why Dad is keeping.
I mean, I know why Dad is keeping them, but I wonder what he’ll do with his collection when they move.Poor Dad.
I don’t dare touch anything without asking him first, so I make a note to talk to him about it tomorrow and close the door on that problem for now.
By the time my belly is growling for dinner, I have a list of jobs long enough to fill my note paper.
I guess that’s progress.
I make myself some grilled chicken. It’s too hot to cook indoors. Mosswood usually has quite a mild summer, but today the air feels thick with moisture.
After dinner I clean up, and I’m yawning even though it’s early.
I haven’t been careful enough lately. Haven’t taken the proper precautions.
To be honest, I haven’t felt much like masturbating after what happened with Bri, but a succubus who hasn’t cum lately is a danger to everyone around her, even a half-succubus like me.
With a sigh, I rifle through my bag until I find my vibrating wand.
The thing’s a beast. Guaranteed to do the job in only a few minutes.
Tossing it onto the bed, I strip off and switch it on.
I expect to be distracted, to take longer than usual, especially after I accidentally fed off the delivery driver this afternoon.
But the images in my mind have nothing to do with that.
As I press the buzzing wand next to my clit and the waves of pleasure make my muscles contract, it’s Gryff’s long, canine face and strong, muscular frame that I picture.
His face in wolf form. Werewolves have a human form too and suddenly I’m super curious about what he looks like as a man.
Very soon I’m gasping, slick and damp between the thighs. Then I explode into shivers and waves of relief.
The night is still stuffy. The house hasn’t been properly aired out for weeks.
I switch off the vibe then pull back the curtains to lift the window and let in some air.
It’s only once the cool breeze kisses my sweat-dampened skin and I breathe a sigh of relief that I notice this window looks out right across at Gryff’s place next door.
The hedge is low here, and his window faces mine directly.
Gryff stands at his open window staring, and I can’t help staring too. In human form he’s almost exactly as I might have pictured him.His jaw is square, his five o’clock shadow more like two or three days' growth, and his dark brows frame his rich brown eyes.
Eyes which are currently bugging out of his handsome face.
I glance down, realize I’m topless, and hastily bring my hands up to cover my breasts. They’re really more than a handful, but I give it my best shot.
Oh no. Oh no! I know he wasn’t interested when I was standing on the porch in my ugly cap fully clothed, but I’ve never known a straight guy who didn’t go all dopey and dazed at the sight of my naked breasts. Not that many guys have had that opportunity.
The only two guys I ever dated… well let’s just say things didn’t work out very well for them. I still feel guilty about it.
I should close the curtains or move or do anything except stand here watching him watch me over the hedge.
All I can think about, though, is how I wish it was his big, rough, masculine hands holding the weight of my breasts instead of my own and his breath hot on the back of my neck instead of the icy-cold look he shoots me across the distance between us.
He glares at me for one more long, long second. I swear his gaze tracks a phantom touch all over my body. Then he slams the window shut and draws the blinds with a snap.
Oh god. What was that?
I should be happy. I wasn’t trying to cause a problem.
It’s just I’ve never had a guy react that way to me before. I’ve never been rejected before. It kinda feels amazing and also incredibly frustrating at the same time.
I shake my head, climbing into bed and trying to put thoughts of my handsome werewolf neighbor out of my mind, but I’m like a kid with candy. A kid who nobody has ever said no to before. I’m afraid I dream of him all night.