Page 40 of Accidentally Wedded to a Werewolf (Claw Haven #1)

“I know this is a lot of work,” Oliver said as Jackson flipped through the notebook. “I can pay you your usual rates.”

Jackson shook his head. “Claw Haven discount, Oliver. Everybody needs help when they’re settling in. I’m not hurting for money.”

He flipped through the plans Oliver had given him—replacing the carpet, windows, wallpaper—coming to a stop on the insulation page.

He tapped the bullet-point list Oliver had scribbled.

“Look, foam’s a lot faster to install. But you’ll run into problems down the line.

Better in the long run to fix insulation boards to the exterior walls and cover ’em with new sliding. ”

“You’re the expert,” Oliver said.

Jackson kept flipping. He landed on the fireplace page and chuckled, tapping the sketch. “That one might be difficult. I’m not a sculptor.”

“We’d just need you to get the fire up and working again,” Oliver said. “You don’t have to do the, uh, flourishes.”

The bond in his chest flared with warmth. Oliver turned to see Luna rounding the corner into the guest common room, lighting up when she saw who Oliver was talking to.

“Jackson!” she yelped. “Just the dragon I was hoping to see. Are you looking at the fireplace?”

“Sure am,” Jackson replied. “This your work?”

He held out the notebook. The fireplace in the sketch had been decked out with fangs and bricks painted to look like dappled scales.

Luna grinned, swanning over to admire her sketch. “It is! I wanted to check in with you—dragon mouth fireplace, cute or offensive? Or just gaudy? I want to lean into the monster themes, but is it too much? What do you think?”

Jackson tucked his scaly hand into his overalls pocket, tail swishing behind him. “I’m not an interior designer, ma’am. But I think it looks neat. My granddad had one just like it.”

Luna shot Oliver a smug look. Oliver shot her an eye roll back. He’d been teasing her when he suggested the dragon mouth fireplace might be offensive. Mostly.

“Well,” Jackson said, loud enough to make Oliver realize they’d just been standing there making faces at each other. “I better go get those supplies ready. I’ll come over in a couple of hours. We’ll do insulation first, then windows. Start from the bottom, work our way out.”

He handed Oliver the notebook back. “By the way, how’s your grandmother doing?”

“Fine,” Oliver said automatically. Then he remembered he was trying to give fewer one-word answers to the townsfolk when they asked this question since they just kept asking otherwise. “Her heart’s on the mend. We’re taking her in once a week for tests, but so far, everything’s fine.”

Fine was a white lie. Grandmother Musgrove was still tired all the time and had to sit down if she walked for more than ten minutes in one stretch, but she wasn’t getting worse.

Oliver was trying to be more open, sure.

But that didn’t mean he had to spill his family’s health issues every time someone asked.

“Glad to hear it,” Jackson said. “Well. See you in a few hours to start on those walls.”

Oliver watched him leave. One thing he appreciated about Jackson, he wasn’t the kind of guy who slapped him on the shoulder as a greeting or a goodbye. There were too many of those in town, and somehow Oliver was the asshole for making it known that he didn’t want some stranger touching him.

Luna kept flipping through the notebook. It wasn’t her special work notebook—she’d bought another one specifically for Musgrove Inn. She even decked it out with pink-and-white glitter that spelled out MUSGROVE DREAM HOME, which Oliver had to be told was a Barbie reference.

“A few hours is enough time to go into town,” she said.

“We can pick up some of those paintings I told you about, the ones reimagining famous paintings with monsters in them. We can put them in storage until after the walls are done. Oooh, Vi from the bookstore said they finally have those cute little wolfy bookmarks, and we can put those on the bedside tables.”

She was bouncing with excitement, face flushed as she ran down her list to monster-fy the inn.

Oliver watched her fondly, the bond whirring happily in his chest as she stood beside him.

It still wanted him closer, but ignoring it was second nature by now.

It was harder to ignore the desire behind it.

Bond or no bond, Oliver itched to touch the small of her back or brush her honeyed hair out of her eyes.

Small touches, nothing touches. The kind of touch her fiancé would give her when she returned to him after the snow thawed.

The kind of touch he shouldn’t let himself indulge.

“—and we need to stock up on seaweed; that last mer ate the last of it,” she finished, eyes bright. She looked over at him and paused. “What’s that face?”

Oliver desperately rearranged his face into something less incriminating. “What face?”

“The…” Luna frowned. For a moment, Oliver felt something brush up against the bond. Before he could ask her what the hell she was doing, the touch was gone and Luna averted her gaze.

“Sorry,” she said thinly. “My bad. Let’s go!”

* * *

Luna kept up the chatter as they darted around the stores on Main Street, handing him bags to carry.

“Careful with the paintings,” she reminded him as they ducked into Sweethelm Books. “And hold that bag perfectly straight, it might leak otherwise.”

“I got it,” Oliver assured her.

Luna did a distracted little shimmy. Oliver had to hide a smile. The shimmy was an unconscious tic that cropped up whenever she was stressed about veering too far away from Un-Fun Luna, a tactic to convince others, or maybe just herself, we’re all having a good time, right?

“Busy,” Oliver commented as he closed the door behind him. “Nice work.”

“Aw, it wasn’t all me.” Luna grinned, cheeks flushing as she surveyed the crowded bookstore. Tourists were everywhere, cooing over fountain pens and debating whether they should get into poetry.

“It was mostly you,” Oliver pointed out, holding his bags out of the way for yet another tourist to come through. A day tripper, Oliver assumed. If they weren’t, then they were yet to book into the inn.

“I heard you on the phone last week talking her through putting the ad up,” Oliver continued.

“Yeah, well.” Luna’s grin went uncharacteristically shy.

She bit her lip, and Oliver felt it echo through the bond.

His tongue darted out to swipe his own lip.

Luna’s gaze dropped down to it, and Oliver had a bizarre moment where he considered kissing her right there in the supplies aisle with his arms full of bags and everybody watching.

Then Luna cleared her throat, whirling to inspect the shelves.

“Wolf bookmarks,” she murmured under her breath as she stalked the aisles. “Bookmarks, bookmarks, bookmarks…”

Vi Harper appeared behind Luna, smiling politely.

“Hi there,” Vi said. “Are you two looking for bookmarks?”

Luna whirled. “Vi! Oh my god, hi!”

Vi’s smile suddenly became more solid. “Luna! It’s so good to see you in person again. I feel like I’ve sent you a hundred emails.”

“Right?” Luna darted forward and tweaked Vi’s hair ribbon. “Aw, it gets cuter every time I see it. Where’s my favorite dragon?”

Vi pointed. “Chester’s out back.”

Oliver concentrated. Sure enough, he could hear the old dragon swearing under his breath in the back rooms about an “idiot customer who wanted the stupidest edition” of a book.

Oliver didn’t get out much, but it was hard not to know about Chester, the elderly dragon who ran the bookstore.

Apparently, Ben had had the misfortune of mentioning he liked Lee Child books once, while handing Chester a croissant.

Then he’d been treated to a ten-minute rant on the downfall of modern literature.

Oliver was in no hurry to see that dragon again.

“You’ve done such a good job,” Luna gushed to Vi. “Look at you, back in your natural busy habitat! How are you? How’s your sister?”

Vi blinked. Her smile was still in place, but it was her pause that let Oliver know she likely didn’t love talking about personal matters with people she’d only talked to over email.

If he remembered Vi correctly, she had moved to town to look after her sister after her husband died unexpectedly.

Oliver wouldn’t want to talk about that either.

“Sorry,” Luna said apologetically. “I’ve become that small-town person I keep making fun of. I can’t help it; everybody knows each other’s business!”

“I suppose I’m still getting used to it,” Vi said graciously. “Gabby’s fine. Thank you for asking.”

She turned toward the back counter, slipping expertly between the crowd of customers. “I have your bookmarks behind the counter. We threw in those pens you liked.”

Luna preened. “She threw in the pens I liked,” she whispered to Oliver.

“I’m right here,” Oliver pointed out, trying and failing to hide his smile. “And my hearing is better than yours.”

Vi emerged from behind the counter holding a neatly folded paper bag. “And while you’re here, we’re having another problem with the shipping website. If you’re not busy, could you come around next week and teach me how to fix it so that I know what to do when it comes up again?”

Luna paused. “Sure! If I’m here next week.”

“Of course,” Vi said apologetically. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been crazy busy lately. Right, the snow will have melted soon. You can go and get that flower any day now.”

It took Oliver a second too long to realize he should be smiling. He pulled one up, hoping it looked real. Judging from the surprise that flickered through Vi’s expression, it looked about as real as it felt.

“Great,” Luna said, voice too high. “Well, thanks for the bookmarks, Violet! Do we owe you anything?”

Violet’s smile twitched so hard Luna startled.

“Whoa,” she said. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Vi said hurriedly.

The old dragon’s voice echoed from the back of the store: “She hates being called Violet! Only Vi!”

Oliver immediately thought back to Nick Wicker, desperately trying to gain Vi’s approval by calling her Violet and being a smug jackass.

“Oh,” Luna said. Her mouth curled, and Oliver knew she was thinking the same thing. “Sorry, Vi.”

“It’s fine,” said Vi in a tone that implied she would have put up with the name no matter how much she despised it.

A throat cleared behind them.

Oliver turned, almost whacking a passing child with his numerous bags.

The chimera had glasses, a sweater vest and giant horns sticking out of his golden mane. His feathery wings were folded tightly behind him so that he didn’t touch the bookshelves.

Vi nodded at him. “Mayor. Good to see you back from your honeymoon.”

“Good to be back, Vi.” Christopher gave her a prim nod, then turned to Luna. “Hello. I heard you wanted to speak with me.”