Page 13 of Wishing for a Werewolf (Ferndale Falls Forever #2)

Autumn

Severin flies off, leaving me alone on the green with Rune. A very shirtless, we’re-missing-clothes-over-here, half-naked Rune.

I try not to gawk, but who can blame a girl?

The guy is built. I knew he filled out a Henley, but without that thin layer of cloth protecting my eyeballs, they latch onto the rippling bulges of his muscles like a goat who’s sunk their teeth into a treat—you aren’t budging them until they’ve had their fill.

Swaying closer, I catch a whiff of his scent, male and pine and something crisp like the forest on a perfect fall evening. I want to make a soap that smells exactly like him.

I want to effing roll in it, soak it into my skin.

Horny Autumn stirs, ready to take over. I jerk away from him, spinning toward Cake My Day. “I—” My voice cracks, and I swallow and start again. “I need to get some bread for dinner.”

I dart across the street, the shop door opening on top notes of sugar and spice underpinned by the yeasty richness of bread.

The delicate pink walls are instantly soothing, and the cute little mix-and-match tables and chairs are painted in a rainbow of pastels.

Two large glass display cases wait at the back of the store, one filled with sweet treats, the other with savory breads.

It’s the lull between lunch and dinner, and there are only a few customers in the shop.

A gnome and wood nymph sit at one of the tables, holding hands and giggling as they share a frothy pink confection made of bite-sized bubbles so light the treat lifts from the plate to float in midair.

Each time one of the women takes a bite, a bubble pops, sending out a new sweet scent and throwing off sparkles of magic, citrus followed by cinnamon followed by chocolate, then anise.

They lick their lips and hum in appreciation, getting a burst of the matching flavor.

It looks like such fun and the perfect thing for lovers to share. Especially when they get to the end of the treat, and each of them chases the last few bubbles until their lips meet on the final one. It’s like the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti moment, only a lot more magical.

“That’s my new ‘bubble surprise,’” a woman says.

Pepperpot steps out of the backroom, drying her hands on the towel tucked into the front of her apron.

The brownie stands about two feet tall, everything about her matching her name: light-brown skin, dark-brown hair and eyes, and clothing made of brown leaves in a patchwork of shades.

“Each individual bubble is spelled to deliver the flavors the people eating it most want.”

“It looks amazing,” I say, though I tend to like desserts I can sink my teeth into, and it’s not as if I have anyone to share one of the pink confections with.

The bell above the door chimes, and Rune walks in, still half naked.

Shirtless, Autumn. You need to think of him as shirtless. It’s safer.

I’m lying. There aren’t enough words in this world or any other to make Rune nudity safe.

I brace, waiting for Pepperpot to kick him out for violating a ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ policy. Should have known better. She’s fae. A little casual nudity doesn’t even make her blink.

She grins up at him. “Wolf, it’s about time you visited my store. What can I get you?”

“Wait a minute.” Disbelief courses through me. I spin to point at him. “How the hell have you lived in Ferndale Falls for a month and not eaten anything from here? Pepperpot makes the best bread ever, and don’t even get me started on the pastries.”

“I’m not used to this kind of food.” His lips press into a thin line.

“Human food?”

“Bipedal people food of any kind.” He waves a hand up and down his body. “I’m still learning.” That last bit comes out as a murmur.

Oh, god. Is he embarrassed? I didn’t mean to do that. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to suddenly have a man’s body after years of living as a wolf. Slipping my hand into the crook of his arm—his very warm, very muscly arm—I tug him toward the counter.

Looks like someone’s watching more forearm porn tonight, horny Autumn murmurs inside my head.

Shut up, I hiss at her. We’re in public.

She just laughs.

“Lesson one is bread.” I say, my voice extra-chirpy, like I get when I’m flustered. “We’re having butternut squash soup tonight, so we want something that will go well with it, maybe with a sharp cheddar melted on top.”

“We?” His intense golden eyes catch mine.

“We,” I repeat with a definitive nod. “Operation Television starts tonight. Now, how does a crispy baguette sound? Or the multigrain rolls full of nuts and seeds? Those are super yummy.” At his puzzled look, I hurry to add, “You know what? We’ll get some of each. That way you can see which you like.”

His gorgeous smile catches me off guard once again, my heart leaping against my ribs like a bird taking flight.

I open the oven door, and the rich smell of melting cheese billows out to blend with the delicate scent of the soup, faintly sweet and spiced with nutmeg, a dash of ginger, and just enough garlic to add complexity.

Rune watches avidly from where he leans against the kitchen island, Babybelle looking smaller than ever cradled in his huge arms.

We stopped by his house so he could get another shirt, and he came with me to the farm, where we walked through the pasture to visit the herd.

I expected the goats to be frightened of him, but the opposite was true, especially when I let him dole out the acorns we gathered from the woods.

Cheddar and Gouda swarmed him, and anyone smaller than Rune might easily have been knocked over.

Once we got to the cottage, I offered to let him start watching TV while I cooked, but he insisted on staying in the kitchen.

As I ladle the soup into bowls, he says, “So you do this all the time? Mix various things together to prepare food?”

“She does!” Babybelle butts her head against his hand for more pets. “She makes me cookies!”

“Yep.” I grin over my shoulder. “It’s what you do if you want to eat well. You either cook, or if you’re rich, you get someone to cook for you. You can also buy prepackaged meals. Those are good if you’re in a hurry, or if you’re not a good cook.”

“You, however, are an excellent cook,” he says.

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tasted anything!”

“I don’t need to.” He taps his nose. “I have an excellent sense of smell, and your soup smells delicious.”

I turn back toward the stove, hiding the pleased blush heating my cheeks.

Rune grunts in surprise, and I spin around to find the mini-goat chewing on his collar.

“Babybelle! No chewing in the cottage.” I point the wooden spoon at her. “You promised!”

“But Rune doesn’t live here!” She turns her big eyes on me, trying to look innocent. “He’s visiting. He doesn’t count!”

“We agreed you wouldn’t chew anything in the cottage, little missy. And where is Rune?”

Her ears droop as she mumbles, “In the cottage.” When I lift an eyebrow, she adds, “Rune counts.”

“She’s promised not to chew your clothes,” I tell him. “Let me know if she ‘forgets.’”

“I will,” he rumbles, quiet amusement lacing his deep voice.

As soon as Babybelle hears it, she knows she’s out of trouble. Her ears lift, and she baas her goat laugh and squirms from his grip. After clambering onto his shoulder, she leaps to the island top and caroms off it to dive into the hallway, her hooves clacking against the hardwood floor.

The little clicking noises fade as she trots into the living room, and I yell after her, “No chewing or no cookies!”

“Does that work? If so, I might need to figure out what these cookies are before my niece and nephew get here.”

I gasp. “They’ve never had cookies?”

“They’ve spent their entire lives as wolf pups. That’s why it’s so important that I do a good job teaching them how to live in this form.” He stares at his hands.

I reach over and run a finger over his palm, and his breath catches. Tension tightens the air between us, but I don’t pull away. “You’re not used to having hands,” I whisper.

“Or bare skin.” His voice comes out husky. “It’s so… sensitive.”

Oh, god. I can’t help it. My thoughts race. All I can imagine is being the first to touch him like this, my hands all over his body, making him shiver and moan…

I’m not even sure this is horny Autumn anymore—all of me wants this.

Swallowing hard, I spin back toward the stove and use the excuse of loading everything onto two serving trays to take a couple of moments to regain my composure. Then I lead us into the living room, where Babybelle looks up from chewing on one of my slippers.

“Babybelle! Our agreement!”

“It was just a little nibble.” She races up to me and butts her head softly against my shin. “I got bored.”

A huff of laughter escapes me, half amusement, half disbelief. “It was less than five minutes.”

“Maybe it would help if she has something she’s allowed to chew.” Rune stares at her thoughtfully. “That works with pups when they’re teething. We give them bones or sticks to gnaw.”

“Yes!” Babybelle puts her front hooves on my knee. “I could be good if I had something like that.”

“Okay. I’ll order you something. For now…” I eye the mangled house shoe. I was going to get a new pair this winter, anyway. “You can chew on this pair of shoes if you need to, but only this pair.”

“I promise.”

“That’s what you said last time.” I settle onto my overstuffed burnt-orange sofa.

Babybelle bounds up and snuggles down between me and the armrest, making a goat loaf with all four legs tucked under her. She looks up at me, her amber eyes full of love, and I immediately forgive her, rubbing a hand over her soft forehead.

Rune sits beside me, making the cushion dip. I left plenty of room on the couch for him, but he’s just so big that I’m keenly aware of him like a pressure all down my side.

I spoon up some soup, the blend of butternut and nutmeg and garlic softened by cream and blended into a smooth puree of cozy goodness that tastes like fall in a bowl.

Rune takes his first bite, then turns to me with surprised eyes. “This is good!”

“Don’t look so shocked!” I laugh. “Like you were expecting it to be bad.”

“It’s not that.” He gives a self-conscious little grimace. “I’m not used to eating vegetables, so it’s always surprising when I like them.” He takes another enthusiastic bite.

Before I can stop myself, I lean over and pick up his cheesy bread, the bubbling sharp cheddar cooled enough to eat, though the bread is still nice and toasty. I bring it to his lips. “You need to try this.”

He takes a big bite, his fangs sinking into the bread in a way that makes my heart skip with the reminder that Rune’s no ordinary man—he’s fae and a werewolf and far, far stronger than me.

Rune groans, deep and rumbling and full of need.

Oh, boy. That groan does things to me. My pulse speeds, sending blood racing south, and horny Autumn starts to hum with delight.

“What is this?” He pulls a stretchy piece of cheese off the top of the bread and stares at it with all the fascination of an explorer who just found gold.

“It’s cheese.”

“I’ve eaten pizza with cheese. This isn’t cheese, this is—” His mouth opens and closes as he searches for a word.

“This is sharp cheddar. It’s my favorite.” I grin, loving that he likes it, too. “Pizza usually uses mozzarella. There are lots of types of cheese.”

“Lots?” His voice is as full of hope as a kid seeing a huge pile of Christmas presents under the tree.

“Hundreds.”

“Clearly, I need to study all of them,” he says. “In order to truly learn what it is to be a man.”

“Clearly.” My lips twitch. I click the remote and hit play on the first Mission Impossible movie. The iconic music swells, and I hum along.

We eat side by side as the characters race through their first mission, doing risky heroic shit.

Rune’s eyes remain glued to the screen the entire time, and I grin. I hoped he’d enjoy it, since he’s good at actiony stuff himself. I grew up on these movies, since they were a compromise worked out between Mom and Dad for family movie nights—he loves the action and she loves Tom Cruise.

Sitting side by side, eating good food and watching a fun movie—it’s been way too long since I did this with another person, let alone a guy. Our “Netflix and chill” night might not be a euphemism for anything else, but it’s still absolutely perfect.

Liar, horny Autumn whispers in my head. You want the euphemism too, admit it.

Shhh, I hiss at her.

Horny Autumn laughs and notices how Rune’s forearm flexes when he moves, how he groans every time he takes a bite of cheesy bread.

Never has my favorite movie seemed so long.