Page 16 of Beware of Hodags

RACHEL

Shepard’s truck is nearing the cabin when he looks over at me. “Want to detour to eat?”

I tip my head, considering. “Not very hungry yet.”

“Okay.” He shifts gears, and we make the turn onto the driveway. When we start the steep climb, he offers, “If you don’t want to go out again, I have some meals inside for later.”

I’d been watching his handling of the gearshift, admiring him and how well he drives. Now I raise my gaze to his face, surprised. “You do? I didn’t see anything for food…”

He bobs his chin. “In my room.”

“Your room? Which one is your room?”

He looks over at me as he puts us in park. “I’ll show you.”

We enter the cabin, and Shepard takes off his boots and I stifle a groan of relief as I unstrap my wedges. Then Shepard leads me to the locked door. He takes out a key.

And maybe I’m related to my sister after all because I have to admit it’s a little neat to see what’s behind it.

I’m going to tell Adrian all about this and be as disgustingly smug as possible when I brag about the fact that, thanks to Shepard, I get to indulge my curiosity over the mystery of the secret door, no Nancy Drew needed.

Shepard swings the door open and gestures for me to step inside.

It smells like woodsmoke and a supernatural something I’ve never encountered, not until yesterday. Not until I spent a good hour thinking I was in love with the air fresheners in this place .

It smells like Shepard.

“Mine,” he says unnecessarily. I look around the room, which is mostly a big bed with a wildlife painting of otters mounted above it, eyes falling to the only real items that show personality.

His nightstand. Spread across the top of it is a flashlight, a phone charger, a hunting knife, a small fan, a remote, and a lamp.

The room also has a bookshelf but instead of having books on it, it holds canned goods and some boxed items of food.

There’s also a small chest freezer in the corner of the room.

Watching me, he offers, “I stay here when it’s not rented and fish.

Speaking of, you’ve got to see the creek. I could spend all day there.”

“I can imagine that.” Eyes still trailing around his space, I note that it’s impressively tidy. Like the rest of the cabin it has warm walls, a stone tile floor, and woodsy bedcovers. “This whole place is magazine worthy. Inside and out.”

His face registers how pleased he is that I think so. He squeezes my hand.

Then he tows me to his chest freezer and loots it.

Collecting two pie boxes, he balances them on one hand and keeps his other hand clasped with mine, tugging me after him.

He leads us to the kitchen where he opens one pie box that is not a pie after all.

He upcycled the box and used it to store a homemade quiche.

He loads this in the oven, then starts fiddling with dials. “Want a nap?”

“A nap sounds good,” I decide, resting my hip against the counter. Glancing down, I pick at my skirt and smile wryly to myself. This. This right here is why I never buy white. I just can’t have white things. At least I got to wear it once.

Shepard pulls out his phone. “How long do we want to be down? An hour?”

I like the sound of we. “Sure. ”

He adjusts the oven’s temperature then meets my gaze. “I have this down to a science. We have sixty minutes. Let’s crash.” He misses a beat. “Want to join me?”

Smiling shyly, I say, “Yeah.” I head to my room to change into a comfy pair of flared leggings and a long sleeve tee, then join Shepard in his room.

He’s undone the buttons on his flannel and he’s stretched out on his back, his arms folded behind his head, lying on top of the covers like he won’t get chilled after laying still for longer than five minutes.

I will, so when he gestures to the side of the bed he’s left for me with a tip of his head, where he’s thoughtfully pulled the covers back, I cross the room and climb in. Daringly, I slide toward him until our sides are pressed together.

Even though I’m bundled like a caterpillar in a half-built cocoon, the second we make contact, a charge zips over us and we both sigh.

“Nap time is going to be awesome,” I announce.

“Mmm,” he agrees, turning and draping his heavy arm over me.

“You feel good,” I tell him, wriggling under his arm.

“So do you,” he says into my shoulder, tugging me more firmly against him.

***

Cuddling like this, we doze for a bit. When my eyes open again, it’s to find his gaze is locked on my face, far too alert. “Should I be worried that a hodag is watching me sleep?” I ask on a yawn.

His hand strokes down my blanketed side, making me wriggle into his touch. His other arm is my pillow. “Did you know you snore?”

I groan and cover my face. “I snore terribly. I’m sorry.”

He manages to pull one of my hands away. He kisses it. “Don’t be shy. I think it’s cute. ”

I peer at him, surprised to find he looks serious. Oddly, he looks really, really serious. It makes my heart twist. “I hope you find it cute forever,” I tell him.

He meets my eyes and vows, “You better believe I will, future Mrs. Cavoc.”

My stomach does a somersault.

His gaze moves to my hair, where his fingers are sifting through it. “Rachel?”

“Hmm?” The cabin smells good. It’s not just Shepard this time; it’s the quiche. I don’t know what’s in it but I can’t wait to try it.

“I need,” he says, and he starts to gently pet me in a way that feels as if he’s deliberately trying to soothe me. “To protect you. And to do that right, I need to know something.”

I’d lean back from him in bewilderment but probably by no accident, while one of his hands has been playing with my hair, the other has flattened at my back, and these two contact points are handling me firmly enough to prevent me from easing back in a way that looks casual.

His gaze meets mine. His voice is deceptively calm even though his eyes have gone hodag red. “Who are you running from?”

Not expecting the question, I stiffen. “I’m not running.”

After a pause where he searches my gaze, he looks away and starts caressing my back. I watch his eyes, watch for them to change into his mellow color.

Slowly they do, softening into his human gold once more. “Why did you come here then?” His face is calm. His eyes are too. When I stay quiet, he prods, “You left everything you knew. You didn’t have a job or even a place to stay lined up.”

Dragging my teeth over my lip, I admit, “There’s this guy.”

Shepard tenses. His eyes flood with red again.

“It’s not what you’re thinking. We never dated or anything—I hardly know him. But… he was following me. ”

“Stalking you?” he asks quietly.

I grimace, not wanting to lie. “Ugh.” I wriggle until he lets me turn onto my other side, facing away from him.

He wraps his arm around my stomach and the silence between us is expectant.

It grows uncomfortable enough that I push at him, but he doesn’t let me leave the bed. “Shepard, I don’t want to talk about this.”

His restraining arm remains a steel band over my middle. His heartbeat revs against my back. His exhales, which were pleasantly soft gusts over my neck a moment ago, become silent snorts of outrage, like an indignant dragon, or a furious bull.

Or a hodag, apparently.

“What’s his name?” Shepard asks, his voice deadly calm.

I sigh. “His name is Dylan.” Shepard starts to speak but anticipating his inevitable question, I cut him off. “No, I’m not telling you his last name. He hasn’t done anything illegal.” His other arm fishes lower under me until he’s hugging me. Tightly. “Calm down. He was just freaking me out.”

His hold does not relax. All of him is doing the opposite of relaxing. “A man made you so uncomfortable that you abandoned your entire life including your family and fled five hundred miles and you tell me to calm down?”

“Four hundred and eighty-eight miles,” I mutter.

Shepard squeezes me. “What did he do?” he growls.

An involuntary but pleasurable shiver travels through me.

Shepard goes still.

Trying valiantly to regain my wits, I take a shuddering breath and refocus. “He hasn’t done anything. He’s just gotten too curious about me. He’s an animal control officer, but his hobby is cryptozoology.”

Rolling me to my back, Shepard stares down at me as if he’s gauging my seriousness. “You’re a shapeshifter being chased by a dogcatcher? ”

I expel a vexed sigh. “He’s that and more. He seems to think there’s a society of shapeshifters living under everybody’s noses—no doubt confirmed, in his mind, the day he thought he was following an animal only to have a fully dressed woman step out from where the animal had gone.”

“You were the girl and the animal? Are you an opossum?” His brows rise as if a new possibility is occurring to him. “A skunk?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I will confirm that I was the animal. And sadly, Dylan absolutely believes in the supernatural and now that he knows that I’m a member of the supe community, he’s ecstatic. He has a lot of questions I don’t want to answer so… I left.”

“Hmm.” Shepard’s thick, callused finger traces along my cheek. “Are you an armadillo?”

I huff at him.

“Because I heard they can give you leprosy.” His tone stays light, but his eyes are darkening to a heated red. “I only ask because that could make the plans I have for you a little more challenging.”

“Plans, huh?”

He bounces his eyebrows. “Many, many plans. Many times. If things don’t fall off.”

Despite myself, I laugh.

He grins in response, pleased.

Bringing my arms up, I loop them around his neck.

He kisses me.

His phone starts to chime. Stifling a sigh, he lets me go and rolls out of bed.

I follow him to the kitchen.

He pulls the quiche from the oven. He opens up the other pie box to reveal a real pie this time, which he puts in the oven.

The box it came in is plain, bearing a single label stamped with the words Prairie Pines Bulk Foods, Gleason, Wisconsin and an ingredient list too small for me to read from here .