Page 11 of Foxer Upper (Harmony Glen #8)

MAGGIE

Considering Gabe’s house is so close to mine, it’s wild that I’ve never been here before.

It’s a little bigger than my own cottage, but not by much.

The home is a single-story, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, plus all the usual stuff.

It’s the detached garage that’s really the star of the show, at least to me.

Gabe made the choice to permanently park his truck in the driveway and convert the garage into his wood-working shop.

“You want to start with the shop?” he asks. “Or the house?”

“Shop,” I say. “I want to see all the toys.”

“Right this way.” He leads me toward the converted garage, and I work up the courage to ask something I’ve been wondering about.

“The first time you called me vixen, you said you had a bad dating history. You implied that was why you didn’t want to get into anything with me. Will you tell me about that?”

He sighs and runs a hand over his head. “I’ll tell you, but be warned. It’s unpleasant.”

“Okay.”

“Three years ago, I was engaged to a deer shifter named Lara. She’s Canadian like most of my family, but she was living here at the time, and we started dating when we realized we had the Canada thing in common.

Anyway, after we got engaged, we went to Quebec to spend time with my family.

We were actually thinking of moving there, so we could be closer to our families. ”

He pauses, a look of distaste flashing across his face, and I put a comforting hand on his arm.

“What happened?” I ask.

“While I was busy planning our future together, she was busy deciding she settled for the wrong triplet. Out of nowhere, she called off the wedding and told me that while nothing had happened, in terms of physical infidelity, she was in love with my brother Marc and they were going to get married. And they did, three months later. At the wedding she had originally planned for us. I didn’t attend, obviously, which didn’t sit well with my family.

“I was already back here, Quebec in the rearview. My parents felt bad for me, but they couldn’t begrudge Marc his happiness, so they welcomed Lara into the family. As you might expect, I don’t visit much. It’s why I mostly FaceTime with my mom and dad.”

“Holy shit. So your ex-fiancée is now your sister-in-law? That is seriously fucked up.”

He nods. “I’ve always thought so. I think my other brother, Theo, is on my side in the whole thing. But he lives up there with the rest of them, so he has to be nice about it.”

I grumble under my breath. I wouldn’t be nice about it, given the chance. “No offense, but your brother Marc sounds like an asshole. Obviously, Lara sucks too, but he’s your family. That is a dick move.”

“I can’t disagree. Anyway, as you can imagine, it fucked with my head.

I pretty much stopped dating or doing much of anything, really.

I work, I make furniture, I hang out with Mack.

My life had gotten quiet, routine. Some might say boring.

” He says it pointedly, but with a grin, reminding me what I said to him during our first dinner together.

“Sorry, I call it like I see it.”

“And you were right. But then you showed up and changed everything. Pulled me out of my rut and got me actually living my life with a little gusto again.” He beams at me, his whole face lighting up, and I can’t catch my breath.

Is it possible for panties to spontaneously combust? Because I think mine are about to.

“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat. He unlocks the door and ushers me forward. “Come on in.”

His workshop is divided in two, with one half for all the wood-working equipment and the other half housing his projects, both completed and in progress.

The whole place is a DIYer’s wet dream—the drop saw, the integrated vacuum system, the lathe!

—and I could spend hours in here playing with all the tools.

On the other side, I spot another rocking chair, a pair of nightstands, a bookshelf…he’s crafted all sorts of things, and I know if I go inspect them closely, I’ll find that they accommodate a wide variety of species’ needs.

“This is amazing. You are wildly talented,” I tell him, and he smiles a little shyly.

“Thanks. I’ve never actually brought anyone in here before. I guess maybe I was a little nervous to show it to you.”

“I’m glad you did.” I lean in to give him a quick hug, but he pulls me close and holds me there for a few beats. His scent is outdoorsy, fresh notes of pine and rain that I inhale deeply. When he finally lets me go, my heart is racing.

“Hungry?” he asks.

You could say that. But not for food. “Um, sure.”

“Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll make us some lunch.”

We head in, and I find the glasses and get us each some water while he bustles around, making sandwiches, slicing an apple, and grabbing a bag of chips. When he’s done, he joins me at the table.

“You know,” I say to him around a bite of sandwich, “your furniture has got me thinking.”

“What about?”

“Well, it’s so thoughtful. It has me wondering why homes aren’t designed the same way. Wider, higher doorways to accommodate tails and tall creatures like orcs. Doorknobs that are easy to grip no matter if you have hands or paws or talons. Reinforced floors for heavier monster types.

I mean, I understand that humans didn’t know about monsters for a long time, so in the past, we couldn’t have crafted homes to meet their needs.

But now that we know, architecture needs to get more inclusive.

And renovations like mine should take this stuff into account.

I’m going to make some changes to my design plans with monster comfort in mind.

” I meet his gaze. “That is, with your comfort in mind.”

His eyes go soft. “That’s one of the many reasons I like you.”

“What do you mean?” I bite my lip and will my cheeks not to flame. Why dies Gabe always make me feel like a twelve-year-old girl with my first crush?

“You’re so compassionate. You care about others, and not just humans. You featured my monster tools on your channels, you protested Homecraft with me, and now you want houses to be accessible to anyone. Your kindness shines.”

I blink, determined not to get mushy. “That’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.”

His mouth curves up on one side. “Of course, that’s not the only thing I like about you. You have many appealing qualities.”

And just like that, mushiness is replaced with heat that bounces around my insides like a bottle rocket. “Oh, yeah? What else do you like about me?”

He pushes aside his plate and scoots his chair closer. Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “I like your hair. I like the way your eyes shine. I like the bows on your overalls. I like your enthusiasm about DIY. Should I go on?”

I shiver as his breath hits my neck, and manage a small nod.

“I like how kind you are. I like your hands. I like your ass?—”

I cut him off as I turn and press my mouth to his, immediately reveling in his heat.

Kissing Gabe is a unique sensation; the snout, fur, and sharp teeth are all new to me.

At the same time, it feels familiar, like I’ve done this a million times, and arousal zings through me as our tongues tangle together.

He pulls me out of my chair and into his lap, and I grind against him, enjoying how hard he is beneath me.

His muscles are firm and taut, but that’s not all that’s rock solid.

Seems I’m not the only one who’s wildly turned on.

He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, shifting and pressing into him even more.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both panting. He has a wild look in his eyes, and I know my hair is mussed from his hands. My lips feel swollen, but I also feel…alive. More vital and vibrant than I’ve ever felt before.

After a moment, I lean back, resting against the edge of the table. “Wow,” I breathe.

He nods, looking a little shellshocked, which makes me giggle.

“As first kisses go, that one was off the charts.”

“You’re not wrong.” He shifts underneath me, reminding me that he’s still hard and throbbing. I get it. I feel hot all over, and I’m pretty sure my undies are soaked.

Clearing my throat, I inch back off of him until I can stand. My legs are a little unsteady. I’ve never been so undone by just a kiss. “So…” I trail off, unsure of what happens next.

“Vixen, let’s not be awkward. I think it’s pretty clear we’re attracted to each other, but we can take things at your pace.

If you want to keep going, I’m game, but we can slow down, too.

If you want to hang out, we can do that.

Or if you’re ready to go home, I’ll walk you.

It’s your call. I only have one question. ”

“Thank you.” I give him my biggest smile. “That means a lot. I do want to explore what’s between us, but right now, I think it’s time to go home.”

He stands, subtly adjusting himself. “You got it.”

“What’s the question?”

“What exactly are we? Casually dating? A couple? Are we monogamous?”

“Oh, just an easy little ask, huh?” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Well, I think we’re a couple. I don’t intend to date anyone else. Does that work for you?”

“It more than works.” The grin he gives me is positively wicked. “It’s perfect.”

MAGGIE

The renovation is going well, if kind of scattered.

I probably should tackle one room at a time, but I get bored easily, so I hop around.

Which is why my upstairs bathroom is sort of half-finished.

I’ve done the floor, the walls, and the lighting, but I’m still searching for the perfect bathtub and mirror, and I want to find a cabinet to turn into a vanity for the sink.

Even though I don’t have the right mirror yet, I’m ready to pull the old medicine cabinet out of the wall.

It’s too small and hung too high, making it pointless.

With a drill, a tiny pry bar, and a lot of elbow grease, I finally get the box out of the wall. Fortunately, the hole that remains is contained and dry-walled; there are no exposed studs or pipes to deal with. Convenient.

What’s odd is that there’s an item in the hole, pressed up against the back wall. I pull it out, marveling at the craftsmanship. It’s a comb, but not some cheap plastic thing. This is clearly antique and finely made.

As far as I can tell—I’m decent at identifying wood, but no expert—it was hand-carved from a piece of applewood.

Over time, the wood has been smoothed by use and aged to a warm amber tone that’s lustrous in the light.

It’s also fairly large; I’m guessing about eight inches long and four inches tall at its highest point.

There are decorative carvings all along the edges, tiny vines and miniature roses that wind all around.

Indentations in the handle provide finger grips, and the most interesting part of all is the crest that’s carved toward the bottom of the handle, at its widest point: a small fox surrounded by oak leaves and acorns.

I need to show this to Gabe. I snap a couple of quick photos and text them to him, asking if he has any idea what this comb is or might have been used for. Or why it has a fox carved into it. I wait for him to text me back, but instead, my phone rings, surprising me. I wasn’t expecting him to call.

“Hey,” I answer. “I take it you got the pictures.”

“I did. Where did you find that?”

I laugh. “Oddly enough, it was shoved into a hole in the wall. Why?”

“Because that comb is very old and very special. It’s someone’s family heirloom.”

I frown at the item in my hand. How can that be? “What do you mean?”

“That’s a fox-fur comb, made especially for vulpines.

Like anything else, you can buy cheap ones at the store nowadays.

But a few generations ago, vulpine families carved their own and passed them down.

You see the dual-sided design? The wide teeth are for working through thick undercoat, and the finer ones are for smoothing and detailing the outer fur.

You can see that each tooth is carefully rounded and polished to prevent snagging or scratching.

And the fact that it’s in such great condition means whoever owned it took care of it. ”

“Wow. Why is it curved?” I ask.

“It helps with hard-to-reach areas, like the back of the neck and base of the tail.”

“Who could this have belonged to?”

“I don’t know for sure,” he says. “Presumably a previous owner of the house.”

“But how would that work? Your species only revealed itself to humans a few years ago, and this comb has obviously been in the wall for a couple of decades. Humans would surely have noticed vulpines living in a house in the middle of Harmony Glen!”

“You would think,” he replies. “I don’t know. Sounds like maybe some research is in order?”

“I guess I could try. Either way, the comb is yours if you want it.”

His voice softens. “That’s very nice of you. I’m looking forward to seeing it in person. Hey, some customers just walked in, so I’ve got to go. Let me know what you find out, research-wise.”

He disconnects the call and I stare at the comb. I don’t know how I would begin to research this. Vulpines certainly kept themselves secret from humans until recently, so it’s not like the sales records of the house would mention them.

The cottage is nearly a hundred years old, though. I guess, much like Jasper, it has a secret history all its own.