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Malachi lounged against the wall completely dressed except for his feet—bare. He lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. I couldn’t help but smile.
Claire was on the floor picking up papers and pencils, which appeared to have been swept from the desk by a whirlwind, or maybe just an arm. I wished I had a husband who’d come to my office for a nooner—even when it was long past noon.
The thought made me straighten. I had more important things to worry about than my love life, even if it had taken a turn from loserville toward exceptional.
“Next time lock the door,” I said.
“Next time keep your ass out unless you’re invited in.” Claire’s fair Scottish skin had turned beet red.
“Where’s the baby?”
Mal pointed toward the car seat, which had been hidden by the desk.
“Won’t that cause irreparable psychological damage?”
“He’s asleep.”
“Oh.” I knew nothing about babies. Only that I wanted some.
“What’s so important that you had to interrupt the only alone time we’ve had in weeks?”
“Sorry,” I said, then went silent.
“You want me to go?” Mal asked.
“You’d better stay. We’ve got...” I paused. What did we have?
Claire glanced up from putting her desk in order. “Werewolves?”
“No.”
She frowned. “What then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is this twenty questions? Because I’m really bad at games, and my patience right now is shot.”
I told her everything, from last night, when I’d seen the messenger wolf on my porch, until ten minutes ago, when I’d seen a gaping hole where Abraham’s heart should have been. I purposely started the tale after I’d had sex with Ian. Just because I’d walked in on
Claire and Mal didn’t mean they got to walk in on me, even in their imaginations. Besides, I knew what Claire would say. The same thing I’d said to her when I found out she’d kissed an itinerant Gypsy horse trainer.
He’s out of your league.
I hadn’t said it to hurt her but rather to keep her from getting hurt. Mal had looked like a player—a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. How could he not be when he’d once performed in a different town every week? What I hadn’t known then was that he’d been searching for Claire for centuries.
In the same way, Ian was out of my league. He might not leave town at the end of every week, but he was just as emotionally unavailable. The man was still in love with his dead wife.
Boy, could I pick ‘em.
At any rate, I didn’t want Claire worrying about my love life any more than I needed to worry about it right now. We had to focus on what was ripping apart our town.
“You talked to Doc Bill?” Claire asked.
“He only knows about werewolves.”
“And the Jäger-Suchers?” Mal wondered.
“Elise called this morning.”
