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“Umm, yeah.” She pulled the tire toy off her wrist and stuffed it into the pet store bag. “I mean, no. Not a dog. A wolf.”
The stranger’s eyebrows rose over those incredible eyes. “You make friends with wolves?”
“More than friends,” she said. “Wolves are part of my family.” She tapped the Silver Moon logo on her tank top. “I run a wolf sanctuary.”
“I see.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “And wolves like toys?” He smirked.
“Are you making fun of me, Mister…?”
“Reardon.” He dragged one of those fabulous hands back out of his pocket and extended it toward her. “And no. I’d never make fun of a beautiful lass I just met.”
Whatwouldhe do to a beautiful lass then?
****
Reardon absolutely loved catching Brandy off guard like this. And she was off guard. She was downright wobbly on her long, lovely legs. He’d gotten so accustomed to looking up at her from all fours in his wolf form. Being able to tower over her right now was a moment to treasure. He’d known she wasn’t a wee lass, but from his height everyone was wee. If that color on her cheeks was any indication, she rather liked looking up at him too.
Of course she didn’t know it was him, but he could be patient. He could wait until the time was right or until perhaps she made the connection on her own. Was he so different in human form compared to his wolf form? He’d never thought so, but he was also inside his skin whether it be pink flesh or black fur. He didn’t have an accurate picture of how his two forms came across to others.
If he had to guess, though, Brandy liked his human form. He smelled her flowery scent mixed with arousal and interest. Her heart beat rapidly and if they were both wolves right now, Reardon was sure they’d be sniffing and sizing each other up.
Maybe Brandy was sizing him up anyway. Her eyes had definitely canvassed over him several times and he figured he’d made some appropriate clothing choices. The lass in the store he’d found had been most helpful which was good because he hadn’t been sure where to begin. The fellow at the barbershop had been more than cordial as well, giving Reardon’s beard and hair some much needed attention. When he’d looked at himself in the reflective glass in front of the chair, he could hardly believe what he saw. His beard had never been that neat, his hair never that short, but the barber assured him he resembled every other “twenty-first century American male.”
At least he knewwhenandwhereFlidae had sent him. Twenty-first century America. He’d had some trouble wrapping his head around the fact that it was the twenty-first century and he didn’t know where America was. The more time he spent in town, however, convinced him he was not against being in this time or this place.
In fact, he rather liked it. And the lass standing before him.
“Are you new in town?” Brandy asked.
“You could say that.”
“What brings you to Vermont?” She gathered that red mane of hair onto her left shoulder, causing the silky strands to shush and slither over the wolf logo on her shirt—a shirt that showcased the smooth skin of her shoulders and the muscles in her upper arms. He’d seen her lifting items at the sanctuary and had made note of those muscles before, but something about seeing them now, on display, made his very human parts tighten in his pants. Pants he wasn’t used to wearing. Pants made of a rough material the shopkeeper had calleddenim. He’d never worn anything like it and found the pants rather constricting.
Especially because Brandy was doing things to his body—things that required roomier garments to be sure.
“I suppose Fate has brought me to Vermont.”Fate. Flidae. What’s the difference?His actions had angered the goddess and she’d banished him. That could have easily been his destiny all along. Meeting Brandy felt like fulfilling destiny.
She studied him for a quiet moment, and he was certain she was about to question his response, but Dylan came running over.
“Mom?” He came to an abrupt stop beside her when he saw she was not alone.
Reardon longed to greet the boy—someone whose company he’d come to enjoy and seek out while at the sanctuary. It was hard to remember Dylan had no idea Reardon was the giant black wolf he’d been spending so much time with. Keeping his distance was difficult. In wolf form, he often nuzzled the boy. Touch was a big part of wolf communication. He had a feeling that touch in his human form would not be looked upon so favorably. One glance at Brandy and the protective arm she’d put along the boy’s shoulders said it all.
“You ready to go, kiddo?” She turned all her attention to Dylan, and Reardon hesitated between excusing himself or waiting for an introduction.
He decided he simply couldn’t leave boy or mother yet.
“Yeah. Gram has a few more ‘parcels to acquire.’” Dylan giggled, the sound so familiar to Reardon.
“Parcels to acquire?” Brandy shook her head. “Gram and her vocabulary.”
“I know. I told her it’s the summertime and we can speak like average people, but she said, ‘Why be average?’” Dylan shot Reardon a quick glance as if he was trying to see him without Reardon noticing. Werewolves, however, noticed everything.
“You know how Gram is.” Brandy smiled at Reardon and everything around him faded away. Nothing existed but her and Dylan and him. Gods, he wanted to tell her who he was.
But how do I do that without scaring her?And Dylan. He didn’t want to harm either one of them in any way.
Brandy wiggled the bag she carried. “This nice man found the toy we bought Alator. It must have fallen out of the bag.”
