Page 7 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

Iris quickly hurried to the register to take his order. She said something and then nervously laughed. Even from this distance, I noticed the slight flush of her cheeks. My jaw tightened. Was he just as much of an asshole to her as he’d been to me? Didn’t seem like it from the way she was acting.

Today he wore a pair of dark jeans and a long sleeved flannel shirt, unbuttoned, showing off a white shirt beneath. There was a hunting knife at his waist.

He handed over a few bills, then stuffed a few more into the tip jar⁠—

“You’ve got a little something there, dear,” came a weathered voice beside me.

I jerked. Mona, Iris’s grandmother, let out a breathy laugh at having caught me staring. She flicked her newspaper open and pretended to return to it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered.

Mona owned The Roost. Iris did the majority of the heavy lifting, though they had a number of employees who helped with shifts. That’s what I loved about Redding. Most of the stores, restaurants, and shops were family owned.

When my eyes found the asshole werewolf again, he was standing off to the side, waiting for his drink holding a brown pastry bag. It looked comically small in his hand. My eyes remained fixed on it. What had he gotten? A muffin, maybe? No, it wasn’t filled out enough. A pastry?

Hmm…

As if he could feel me staring, his eyes lifted, settling on me. My skin heated as a flush spread over my chest and up my neck. I quickly turned away, focusing on my tea before returning to my lesson plan. I kept my gaze firmly glued on my work. Still, I was overly aware of his gruff thanks and the sound of his boots crossing the floor. The door chime as he left.

I darted a peek outside just in time to see him swing into a large pickup truck parked diagonally in the spot outside. Then I quickly averted my gaze before he pulled out. The last thing I needed was for him to think I cared.

Because I didn’t.

Other than the fact that I needed to get back on his land⁠—

“How’s the scone?”

I jumped, letting out a little yelp.

“Scare easily, huh?” Iris grinned.

I snorted. “Who was that? That man.”

“Noticed him, did you?”

“A little hard to miss.”

Iris’s laugh was light and breathy. “He’s our resident recluse.”

“Oh?”

“His name is Axel. I don’t actually know his last name. He always pays in cash.”

“Axel.” I frowned, because that wasn’t the name on the purchase record. “It’s a manly name.”

“Yeah.” Iris laughed again. “He comes in every Thursday afternoon like clockwork.”

“Oh?” I perked up. Not because I was interested in crossing paths with him again. The opposite. In fact, if he was here Thursday afternoons, that meant he wasn’t on his massive piece of property. How the hell had he afforded it, anyway? He didn’t look a day past thirty-five. Then again, he was a werewolf, which meant he could be a lot older. And rich. Very rich.

Because I’d seen the purchase record.

“Yeah, he’s got like…a whole schedule.” Iris was oblivious to my inner musings. If I wasn’t mistaken, it seemed she had a bit of crush on Axel. “He usually visits the Mercantile, then heads over to Pine and Iron before coming here. I think he heads home after that.”

“Pine and Iron?”

“Oh, the hardware store.”

“Ah.” I filed it away for later.