Page 34 of Same Thing
“Boring, but okay. Mine is an inch worm.”
“Is an inch worm a worm or a caterpillar?” he asked.
“It says worm in the name. Favorite color…of bra,” she asked, feeling high on endorphins right now.
“What color are you wearing?” he asked.
She looked into the neck of her shirt. “I’m wearing old faithful. Dark blue.”
“Then dark blue is my favorite,” he said easily.
“What are your friends names and birthdays?” she asked.
Liam got hung up on that question though. He waited until they had gotten her order and paid at the drive through window before he admitted, “I don’t know if I have friends. I have people. I have my Pack. And I wouldn’t know their birthdays if you paid me to recite them. Hell, probably most of my Pack don’t know their birthdays. That’s something humans celebrate, not us.”
“Huh. Then when do you eat cake?”
“Almost never.”
“Because it’s bad for you.”
“Yep.”
“Then how do you know your favorite is white cake, chocolate icing?”
“Because that’s what my job orders every year on the anniversary of me working there. I don’t eat it. It’s just a sentimental thing, I guess.”
“Is it all werewolves at your job?”
“It’s half and half.”
“And the humans know what you are?”
“We don’t talk about it on the jobsite. It’s like this unspoken rule. It’s my favorite rule actually.”
“Nice. Do you like your job?” she asked.
“I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it like this, but yeah. When I think about it, I love it. I don’t dread going to work. It’s physical and keeps my muscles active, and the wolf feels steadier after a shift. What about you?”
“Oh, do I love my job? Absolutely. I got to groom a corgi named Peanut Butter Dracula today, and he knew fourteen tricks that he performed for snacks, and I think he is my spirit animal. I wish my job paid more, but I love it. And I’m kind of good at it. I hardly ever get bitten.”
He frowned. “But you do get bitten?”
“Rarely. I can read a dog pretty well. I know how to calm them down most of the time or give them a break at the right time if they need it. It’s just a sense I have. I’ve had it since I was a kid. My mom jokes that I understand animals better than I do humans. She’s probably right. I really get confused by humans.” She hadn’t meant to let somberness into her tone when she’d said that, but she flashed back to what Jackson had done, and the familiar shame was back.
That would happen for a few days before she just got over it and forced herself to move forward.
“Anyway, if a dog feels off or like it’s showing signs of aggression, we use a muzzle with the owner’s permission to keep the staff safe, but when I’m working, I hardly ever have to do that. My co-workers give me most of the difficult pups becausethey think I’m some kind of dog whisperer. Most owners already know whether they have muzzle pups when they bring them in, so there aren’t too many surprises. Every once in a while, I’ll have a wild day, but most of the time I get to just be happy and hang out with dogs, and get them all feeling good and clean, and nails trimmed up.”
“You’re a happy-maker, aren’t you, Nory?” he asked.
She thought about it as she ate away at her Blizzard. “I think I could be. I have trouble connecting with people.”
“Connecting with dogs counts.”
She smiled. “Then yes. I like that. I am a happy-maker at work, with the dogs.”
“Why don’t you have one of your own?” he asked.