Page 35 of Accidentally Wedded to a Werewolf (Claw Haven #1)

Oliver bumped into three birdhouses on the way to Jackson’s front porch.

“They’re everywhere,” he hissed when Luna turned around to glare at him. “Not everybody is as small as you!”

He expected her to preen. Maybe strike a pose like she was so fond of doing, as if waiting for someone to take her picture. Instead, she just looked at him, gaze lingering on his broad shoulders.

“No, they are not,” she said impishly and turned to knock on Jackson’s front door.

Oliver tucked his elbows in and shimmied past another cluster of birdhouses.

There were several dozen of them littering the yard, each of them hanging from a display with a dewy price tag attached, the plastic misty from last night’s snow.

It only came up to Oliver’s ankles, which told him a lot about what he considered normal.

Once upon a time, snow up to his ankles would’ve been a surprise.

He made it to the front porch, shaking snow off his boots, just in time for the door to creak open.

“Oh,” said Jackson, already wearing overalls despite the early hour. His wings twitched where they were folded behind his back, a claw coming up to scratch self-consciously at his scaly snout. “Hello.”

“Hi!” Luna fluffed her blond hair, which she’d insisted was ruined by the hood she’d been wearing in the car on the way over. The drive hadn’t been long enough for the heater to warm up properly.

“Sorry to interrupt your Saturday morning,” she continued. “Beth gave us your address. I hope that’s okay. Oliver has something to say to you!”

She turned to him, smiling widely. She had been annoyed by the roof caving in again, like everybody else.

But she’d been delighted to prove herself right in saying that he should’ve let a professional handle it, even if she tamed her reaction down yesterday.

Since you were having an emotional time and all, she’d said on the way over.

Jackson looked at him, waiting. He looked expectant, and Oliver sighed as he realized they all knew what was coming.

“The roof caved in again,” he admitted. “We put up a tarp, but it’s about to give out.”

“Oh, wow,” said Jackson mildly. “The roof caved in? During the storm? Wow. Who could’ve seen that coming?”

“Truly nobody,” Luna said brightly.

Oliver squeezed the bridge of his nose. At least Jackson was doing his best to hide it. Luna was bouncing smugly in her boots.

“Look, you don’t have to rub my nose in it,” Oliver said. “Just…tell me how much it’ll cost to get you to fix it.”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose up his scaly forehead. “Fix it? Not just consult?”

Oliver waited, hoping he would keep going and he wouldn’t have to humble himself further. But the silence stretched. Luna dug an elbow into his side.

Oliver glared at her megawatt smile. It dimmed slightly, like she was reminding herself that he had gone through something very emotional yesterday. Oliver told himself he wasn’t touched and turned back to Jackson.

“Seems like a waste of time for me to fix it again if it’ll just collapse during the next storm,” he admitted.

Luna’s smile turned into something even smaller. Almost proud. Oliver couldn’t look at it for long before he had to turn away.

Jackson fiddled with the straps of his overalls. “Sounds about right. I can come now if you want. I just need to grab some supplies first.”

“That would be great,” Luna chirped. Then she winced, nodding for Oliver to take over.

“That would be great,” Oliver repeated at a normal level of peppiness for this time in the morning. “Are you sure? The snow’s stopped, so the tarp will hold if you have other things to do this morning.”

But Jackson was already shaking his head. “Can’t have guests walk in and have that hole in the roof be the first thing they see. Heard you’re getting more lately.”

“We are,” Luna said triumphantly. “I mean, they are. I’m just the marketing girlie.”

Oliver stared at her. “You pick now to be humble?”

Luna shot him a coquettish look over her shoulder.

It faltered after only a few seconds. That had been happening a lot.

She’d start with something irritated or coy or flirty and then it would turn into something small and tentative.

In those moments, Party Girl Ready for a Camera was gone, and Luna stood in her place.

Jackson cleared his throat. Oliver tore his gaze away from Luna to see the dragonborn watching him with a knowing smile.

“Uh,” Oliver said. He straightened his coat. “So, we’ll see you soon?”

“Soon enough,” Jackson replied. “You kids go on now.”

Oliver bumped into another three birdhouses on the way out. Luna laughed, but they were short, snippy laughs, like her mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Breakfast was in full swing back at the inn, and the pack gathered in the common room around the table.

Oliver sat down in his usual seat, looking at the empty chair where Grandmother always sat.

“Where’s Grandmother?”

“She’s not feeling well,” Leo told him with the snide tone of a child who wasn’t sure the adults had told him the complete truth.

Oliver frowned at Ben, who shrugged.

“’S what she said,” he told Oliver, digging into his cereal. Bran and banana because he was “taking care of his health now,” and pancakes on the side because “pancakes don’t cancel out the healthy shit, dumbass.”

Luna leaned over. “Why do you look constipated? People get colds, Oliver.”

“Not werewolves,” he replied. “If she’s sick—”

He stopped himself as every adult at the table glared at him. He’d been about to explain Grandmother’s heart condition, which had required an operation five years ago.

“Which she isn’t,” Oliver said hastily, but the damage was done.

Leo slammed his spoon down. “This is stupid! I’m not a baby; you can tell me if she’s dying.”

“Leo,” Sabine and Ben snapped as one.

“She’s just tired,” Uncle Roy said from over by the coffee machine. “Hey. Don’t listen to anybody who says she’s sick. Alright? Grandmother’s tough as fangs. That includes her heart.”

Leo went back to his colorful cereal, grumbling under his breath. Vida and Darren traded worried looks across the table, pausing over their toast.

Oliver wiped the anxiety off his face. “Hey, never mind that. People get tired all the time. Like Uncle Roy said, she’s tough as fangs. Eat your breakfast.”

The other kids went back to their food, still trading silent looks.

Beside him, Luna was picking at her toast and trying not to look concerned.

She was doing a very bad job of it, tearing absentmindedly at her crust and staring at the table with a thousand-yard stare.

Even without reaching through the bond, he could see her running through a mental catalog of every health issue she might’ve overlooked since she arrived, while Oliver was doing the exact same thing.

Oliver nudged her leg under the table.

Luna looked up, startled. Her toast was in shreds on her plate, picked apart by her nervous fingers.

He shook his head. It’s fine, he mouthed.

She smiled back at him. It was the kind of smile that wanted to be comforted but couldn’t quite get there. It did make her start eating her toast, so he was counting it as a win.

Oliver fought the urge to push through the bond to see what she was feeling. They’d agreed. He wasn’t about to ignore that just because he wanted to know how to make her feel better.

Ben cleared his throat. “So did you have to grovel?”

Oliver blinked. “What?”

“With Jackson,” Ben explained, scraping up the last spoonful of cereal and pulling his pancake plate closer. “Did he make you grovel?”

“You know Jackson,” Oliver said dryly. “He’s a petty dragon.”

Ben stabbed his fork toward Luna. “I hope you took photos.”

“So many,” Luna said. She kicked Oliver in the ankle.

Oliver looked over, expecting to be let in on their continued joke about Jackson. But Luna was making pointed eye contact with something across the room, mouth pulled awkwardly tight.

Oliver turned. Uncle Roy was staring daggers at him from the coffee machine. As soon as he met Oliver’s eyes, he jerked his head toward the hallway door. Then he strode toward it, obviously expecting Oliver to follow.

“Good luck,” Luna mumbled into her toast.

Oliver didn’t bother reminding her that everybody in this room could hear that. He got up, swiping a piece of toast from his plate. He was even more worried now, but he was also starving.

* * *

Oliver managed to stuff the entire piece of toast into his mouth before they made it to the lobby, eyeing the crumbs falling to the carpet with the weariness of a man who would be vacuuming later.

He needed to hire some cleaners. Maybe he would do that when the idea of letting someone else into the inner workings of the inn stopped making him want to tear his hair out.

He’d asked Jackson to work on the roof, which was a good first step.

“Hey,” Oliver said as soon as they got out of earshot. “What’s up with Grandmother, really? Is she alright?”

Uncle Roy waved a dismissive hand. “She’s fine. Look, we didn’t get to talk last night. You’re not getting stupid over this human, right?”

“What?”

Uncle Roy gritted his teeth. “I just— Everybody wants you to open up. Because they’re stupid. You did open up. Opened up the door to that woman who tried to burn us in our beds.”