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It was about half full, the folks who were getting one more drink in before Mass and the ones whose family were the other strangers on bar stools.
"Jeez, Gerry, you been sick or something? You look kinda peaky. " She set down a coaster in front of me. "Winter Warmer?"
"Thanks. Just . . . out of it, I guess. " I suddenly remembered my rank-smelling sweats and two days' growth of beard, and kept my jacket zipped. Hell.
"I bet. I read about Claudia in the paper. You must have freaked. "
One of the things I've learned to live with is the fact that I'll never get credit for being on the scene, for doing the job. "I worry about her, but she's good at taking care of herself. " Then I couldn't resist, sweats or no. "And besides. Chewie wouldn't let anything happen to her. "
She put the dark beer down in front of me, a perfect half inch of froth at the top. "No. He's a sweetie. "
I felt myself flush, remembering the perfume of Annie's ankles, her hand on the back of my neck as she talked to Claudia one summer night. We'd been coming home from work and I'd still been intoxicated by the kill when we ran into Annie. It's one of my fondest memories. "You like dogs?"
She shrugged. "Depends. Like people, really. You gotta take them one at a time, you know?"
Ask her out, I told myself, ask her out right now, coffee, a drink, anything, or so help me, I'll - "How do you feel about Aruba?" I felt myself go red again: that was not what I meant to say. It was too much, too soon, too pimp, oh shit -
Annie stopped wiping down the bar.
Suddenly, the bottomless water seemed a better choice.
"I'd prefer to start with a drink, maybe dinner," she said slowly. "That is, if you're really, actually, finally getting the guts to ask me out?"
"Uh . . . yeah. " I swallowed. "That okay?"
"Yeah. But it took you long enough. " She glanced at me. "You tough guys, you're all just pussycats. You aren't always a big pussycat, are you, Gerry?"
Mostly I'm a big wolf, I thought giddily. "Never again," I vowed. "How's tomorrow night?"
"Can't. " She looked at me funny. "It's Christmas tomorrow, remember? I'm going snowshoeing at Bradley Palmer State Park in the morning. "
I wrinkled my brow. An odd tradition, but nice, I s'pose . . .
She blew out her cheeks. "You know I'm Wiccan, right? I like Christmas, but I observe the Solstice. "
She looked a little defensive, but I could barely contain myself. I forced myself to take a deep breath. "Trust me when I say that mixed relationships are not a problem for me. "
She relaxed, then gave me a look that warmed me instantly, straight through. "If you invite me over for breakfast, I'll ditch the snowshoeing. But I have to leave by noon, because I promised Kelly I'd take her shift at the shelter so she can be with her family. "
"Breakfast is at nine o'clock!" I could barely get the words out fast enough.
"Claudia won't mind?"
"Nah. I'll call her when I get home. " Claudia had been pushing me to ask Annie out from the first time I'd mentioned her. "She's good people, not an evil bone in her body," Claudia'd said. And Claudia knows bones, good and evil.
"I'll be there. " Annie smiled, so sexy I felt my knees go to jelly. "I made a batch of my famous chocolate-chip muffins; I'll bring them. "
Into nature, civic-minded, and a cook? I realized I was grinning like an idiot, so I drank the rest of my beer, to keep from proposing to her right then and there, my head ringing with every Christmas carol ever written.
Chapter Six
The Werewolf Before Christmas
Kat Richardson
Kat Richardson is the author of the Greywalker paranormal detective novels. She is a former magazine editor from Los Angeles who now lives on a sailboat in the Seattle area with her husband and two ferrets. She rides a motorcycle and doesn't own a TV, so she's only seen one episode of Buffy in her life - poor Kat! On the other hand . . . she has more time for writing and World of Warcraft and working on the Northwest regional board of the Mystery Writers of America. This is her first werewolf story.
'Twas the night before Christmas - well, the late afternoon, in fact, but who could tell at the North Pole in the middle of winter - and Matthias the werewolf was knee-deep in reindeer guts. Really, it was the deer's own fault for having that glowing red nose that had made it ever so easy to pick him out in the gloom. There it had been, like a neon sign saying FAST FOOD and Matt being like Yellow Dog Dingo - always hungry - had taken the opportunity for a quick snack.
