Chapter 6
JULIET
When I bought this house, I knew it was going to need some love. The past owner hadn’t done much more than keep wild animals from taking up residence, and I was desperate enough to buy it at face value.
Which is probably the reason half of the lights in the house stop working after a week of my living here. One minute, I was plugging in an adorable reading lamp I found at Hutch the next minute, I’m sitting in total darkness.
Luckily, someone picks up at the only electrician office that Google Maps lists within town limits.
“Sparks and Sharks! We fix your electricity to the Jaws soundtrack. This is Tanya speaking.”
That’s … unexpected.
“Oh. Hi,” I respond after a surprised pause. “I’m not sure I dialed the right number.”
Some indistinct grumbling can be heard in the background.
“Sigh,” the woman—Tanya—actually says the word. “Fine. I’ll use the boring name. This is Pine Falls Electric. How can I help you?”
After I tell Tanya about my problem, she gives me a window of time the electrician will show up.
Now I glance at the clock to see it’s ten a.m. The start of the four-hour window I was quoted. Hopefully, this isn’t one of those flexible windows.
But then five minutes later, there’s a knock at my front door. This electrician is already on my good side.
That is, until I come face-to-face with the man standing on my threshold.
Pine Fall’s grumpiest werewolf.
Roderick Jameson stares down at me from his six foot and however many extra inches of height. He doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised to see me. But the guy barely ever shows any expression other than annoyance, so who knows?
“You’re the electrician?” I blurt the question even though the answer is obvious, seeing as how he’s dressed for the job.
Damn him for looking hotter than melted butter in his electrician’s jumpsuit. He’s even holding a clipboard.
A clipboard!
“Yes”—he pauses to glance down at said clipboard before raising his stare to meet mine—“Ms. Adair.”
Is he fucking with me?
Still no expression, so I have no way to tell. Maybe this is payback for how I acted when he came to the library.
In that case, maybe fair is fair.
Besides, pretending like we don’t know each other might make this whole interaction easier.
Am I really inviting him into my house?
It would be nice if the first person I let cross the threshold was less likely to judge the disrepair my home was in. Also, if they were human.
Roderick Jameson is not looking to bind me to him forever in matehood. I soothe myself. These wolves will leave me alone if I do the same.
My past troubles arose because I got romantically involved. A wolf with a sadistic streak thought he had a claim on me.
Roderick is just here for a job, and he has no idea that I know what he is. This is fine.
“By all means, come on in.”
Roderick nods just as I turn my back to him, leading the wolf into my woodland cottage. Catching sight of myself in a mirror I hung in the hallway, I realize I pulled a red hoodie on this morning.
Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad—more like Grumpy—Wolf.
I snort, then shoo away my dark humor, as I detail the areas of the house where my lights still turn on and point out the rooms that went dark. We end in the kitchen at the back of the house after only a couple of minutes. The place isn’t big.
When I face Roderick, the guy is writing notes on his clipboard.
“Did you check the fuse box?” he asks as I pick up the mug I abandoned at the sound of his arrival.
Before I can answer, the creak of the front door proceeds a new arrival.
“The Tool Bitch is here!”
I choke on my tea, coughing up the warm liquid as a teenager waltzes into my house, lugging a huge metal toolbox.
Roderick glares at the young woman. “That is not your job title.”
“Technically, you haven’t assigned me a job title. And it’s important I have something to put on my résumé and college applications.”
“And you think Tool Bitch is appropriate?”
“I think it’s accurate. And accuracy is an important component of honesty.” The way she says that last bit, deepening her tone and affecting a stern face, makes me think it’s something the man next to me has spouted at her before.
“Hi.” I step forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Juliet.”
“We spoke on the phone!” The girl sets down the toolbox at her feet, and I’m surprised at the gentleness she uses. I almost expected her to drop the giant thing and chip my cheap linoleum floor. “I’m Tanya Jameson.” Her hand is warm and rough in mine.
“My sister,” Roderick grumbles, as if to explain why he would hire such a wild employee.
“This is a family business?”
“A summer internship,” he corrects.
“I wanted to make money,” the teenager explains, “and nothing is better than prying that paycheck out of my brother’s white-knuckled hands.”
“Tanya.” The way he says her name—with a bite—has me bristling in defense of the eager girl.
But she just rolls her eyes, clearly not fazed in the slightest by the mammoth of a man.
“Admit it.” She pokes his shoulder. “You like having me around. I add a certain spice to your days. Just imagine what it would be like, working with Isaac.”
“It would be quiet.”
“It would be boring.”
“Who’s Isaac?” I can’t help asking.
“Another brother,” Tanya says. “My twin. I love the guy, but he does not know how to hold a conversation. He’s worse than this one.” Tanya throws a thumb at Roderick, who does a good job of ignoring her antics. “You want to know where Isaac decided to get a summer job?”
I do. I’m surprised by how much I want to know about this odd Pine Falls family of werewolves.
So, I nod.
“A farm!” the girl exclaims, like she just related the worst news in the world.
“He shovels shit all day. Literal shit. Gross.” She shudders, and I pretend to scratch my nose to cover my widening grin.
And she’s not even done. “Then there’s chickens, like, everywhere.
Not today, Satan. I have enough animals in my life, thank you very much. I’d rather electrocute shit.”
“We don’t do that.” It’s not clear if Roderick is reassuring me or informing his sister.
Tanya sighs big, like her brother just refused to buy her cupcakes. “Sure.”
“Tanya.” The chiding tone the big werewolf uses is funny to me, and I bite my lower lip hard to keep from giggling. “What are the rules?”
She rolls her eyes, but then recites them as if reading a textbook. “I don’t touch the live wires. I don’t pretend to electrocute myself. My job is to hand you tools and stay quiet.” She turns a set of overly large, saddened eyes to me. “Do you see how he stifles me?”
This is amazing.
As an only child, I’ve never gotten to take part in the constant bickering and joking that siblings enjoy. To watch it happen and know that this firecracker of a girl is driving Roderick Jameson mad is better than any movie playing at the town’s two-screen theater.
“I’m so sorry, Tanya.” Tucking my humor behind a sympathetic frown, I pat her shoulder. “Working with him must be torture.”
“I get by,” she admits as if the struggle is real.
“Your fuse box?” Roderick asks again, pointedly.
You’d think his overeager sister would have cramped his air of professionalism, but he pulls it right back on.
“I did check it, but I’ll show you.” Waving for the pair to follow me, I lead them to the hall closet.
I only have one coat that needs to be pushed aside to reach the fuse box, and I make a mental note to check the secondhand store for a winter coat.
That was one of the things I left behind in Bear Valley.
Roderick stares at my single jacket for a beat, as if he thinks it might be causing the electrical issue, and then he focuses on the fuses as I give him space.
A moment later, he decides he needs to climb up into my attic.
“It’s a dusty mess up there,” I warn. “I haven’t even tried to bring any kind of order to it.”
“Sure, I’ve seen worse,” he responds before pulling down the ceiling latch and extending the folding ladder.
I wonder if he’ll even fit in the space. The attic is big enough to store boxes—not that I have any—but it’s not really for walking around.
Still, a few seconds later, his boots disappear into the hole.
“You’re new to town?” Tanya sits on the toolbox like it’s a bench and examines her nails.
“Moved here a few months ago, so, yeah, still new.”
“Where did you live before here? Anywhere interesting?”
Her question is innocent enough, and I try not to let my muscles tighten in defense.
“Oh, nowhere too interesting for a while.” I wave a hand in a noncommittal way. “Kind of hopped from place to place. But I grew up on the East Coast.”
“Where? Boston? New York?”
I give her a wide smile. “Delaware.”
“Delaware? That’s … cool.” She sounds the exact opposite of excited.
“It was nice. Delaware is a chill state.” I glance upward as I talk, searching for signs of life from Roderick.
“It’s a decent jumping-off point for a lot of big cities.
I took the train to New York to see Broadway shows, drove to Philadelphia for concerts.
Went camping on the Appalachian Trail and white-water rafting in West Virginia. ”
The happy memories lend a pleasant buzz to my chest. I had a good childhood.
My grandparents raised me when my mom died in a car accident and my dad wasn’t interested in fatherhood.
Luckily, I was super young when that all happened, so it only hurts in a soft-ache kind of way.
But my grandparents filled my childhood with love to make up for it.
The two of them gave me a happy home and freedom to explore.
Then, during my senior year of college, they passed away within a month of each other. My grandmother had a stroke. I think my grandfather had a broken heart.