Page 27 of Wishing for a Werewolf (Ferndale Falls Forever #2)

Autumn

I didn’t lie to Rune. The next few days are nothing but soap, soap, and yep, you got it, more soap.

By the time Thursday morning arrives, I’m back to dreaming about pours and molds and cutters, which makes horny Autumn stomp around my mind in chunky boots, pouting as if she’s going through another emo phase, like I did at sixteen.

She’s especially frustrated, since I fall into bed each night too tired to even try for a BOO.

But what I crave isn’t a BOO… or at least not a solo one, not after Rune.

“Rune ruined me.” I whisper to my reflection on Thursday morning as I pull my hair up into a messy bun. “I’m completely ruined for any other man.”

My heart skips. I’m going to see him today. I know I’m supposed to hold off on our relationship until I’m sure his feelings aren’t magically induced, but I miss him. Even with how busy I’ve been, it’s been so hard not to see him every day.

I hurry through the rest of my morning routine.

My YouTube video guest starring Babybelle is getting good views and clicks, and I’ve sold almost an entire batch of pumpkin spice latte soap.

Humming as I work, I pack my PSL soaps in the pretty little recycled-material boxes I buy for my specialty bars.

Mom walks in to find me smoothing on the last of the shipping labels, her mouth pinched at the corners. “Did you finish yesterday’s peppermint?”

“Sure did.” I point to the drying racks. “They should be ready to cut.”

“You’ll be fooling with Halloween stuff this week and the hay maze all next week.”

“I will.” I keep my tone neutral. It’s worry making her like this, and I hate that it hangs over her like a storm cloud, darkening her outlook.

Yet I also wish she’d trust me more, trust my judgment.

Take the time to listen to my ideas instead of dismissing them immediately.

But that’s okay. I’ll prove my theories for how to improve business are good.

The pumpkin carving and hay maze are going to remind people that Ferndale Falls Goat Farm is a local business with a great product. It’s going to help—I know it will.

Rune’s voice calls from outside, and I hurry out to meet him and his sister.

“Where are the pups?”

“They’re waiting in the woods.” He points to the edge of the farm.

“We should get them ready to go into town.”

“How can we do that?” He frowns. “They can’t shift yet.”

“I have an idea.”

“This is embarrassing,” Astrid grumps as we walk down the sidewalk with her and her brother on leashes.

“So embarrassing,” Agnar whines.

“No talking!” I whisper-hiss from the side of my mouth as I give the startled people passing by an overly cheerful grin and use my hand to make one of Babybelle’s front legs wave at them.

The couple’s puzzled looks melt into smiles and awws at the sight of the mini-goat, who baas happily. “They love me!”

“Of course they do,” I murmur against her forehead.

Once the couple passes, Riselda says, “This is what happens to pups who won’t shift.”

The werepuppies start to whine, and Rune says, “Quiet. Only bipeds get to talk in town.”

“That’s not true,” Babybelle bleats. “I talk all the time.”

“That doesn’t count, since I’m the only one who can understand you.”

When we stop outside Cake My Day, the pups jump up and rest their front paws on the windowsill to peer in.

“So many cakes and cookies and goodies.” I point to a table near the front, where a small family sits, a little girl eating a cookie, her face beaming with happiness as she takes a big bite. “All the sweet treats children could want.”

The pups whine, tongues lolling as they start to drool.

Riselda hands Agnar’s leash to Rune so he has both pups. When I extend Babybelle toward him, he scoops her up with his free arm.

“Fae-form children could enter and pick out their own treats,” Riselda says right before stepping inside with me.

“You’re really pushing the shifting thing, huh?” I glance back to see the werepuppies watching us with huge, pleading eyes.

“I have to,” she says, a quiet anguish underlying her tone. “They should have shifted by now. The fact that they haven’t isn’t good, and the longer it goes on, the more I worry they never will.”

“Well, let’s get lots of yummy treats that will make them want to shift. Wolves can’t have chocolate, and chocolate is effing amazing.”

She smiles. “I like you.”

When we emerge, Riselda carries two paper bags full of the most delicious pastries we could find.

Little puppy noses wiggle, and the twins dance back and forth at the ends of their leashes, straining toward the treats. Little mouths open, and Rune’s warning about no talking comes barely in time.

Next, I take Riselda into Grounds for Celebration, returning with pumpkin spice lattes for the adults and a bowl of water for the little ones.

“Let’s picnic on the green.” I lead everyone toward the small park.

Lloyd has set up his usual display of pumpkins at one end of the town green, and a crowd is gathered around, shopping.

I take us to a quiet spot on the other side of the park. We settle on the grass in a circle, and I pull out a range of treats, from maple-shaped cookies dusted with golden sugar crystals to pumpkin cupcakes to little apple pies smaller than my hand.

Riselda breaks each into three pieces, giving the pups a taste before taking one for herself. Babybelle gets a low-sugar animal cracker. I nibble on an oatmeal cookie studded with walnuts and dried cranberries, and Rune tries one of the miniature pumpkin pies.

“What’s next?” Astrid snuffles one of the bags.

Agnar wags his tail. “I want to try everything!”

“You know, if you looked like human kids, you could go in and pick what you wanted from the display case,” I say, shooting Rune a wink to let him know I’m in on Operation Shift.

He gives me a little nod of thanks.

“And if you weren’t in your wolf form, you could eat chocolate.” I reach into one of the bags right when yells come from the other end of the green.

“Oh, my god! What are those?” a woman shrieks, her trembling finger pointing at something I can’t see from this angle.

“Keep the pups here,” Rune says to Riselda as he leaps to his feet.

I jump up and immediately burst out laughing.

Babybelle bounces beside me, too short to see. “What is it? What is it?”

A collection of tiny pumpkins rolls across the grassy area, chased by the walking tulips.

Each of the gourds is about six inches in diameter, and they’ve tipped onto their sides to make rolling easy.

They come to a halt in front of us, plonking down onto their bases so their stems now point to the sky.

Each pumpkin squirms around until the side pointing toward us shows a little painted face.

Each one is different, one smiles, one frowns, one looks shocked, another confused, and the last one looks sleepy.

Several Witch Bitches hurry over from the pumpkin stand.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Kayla says.

“We were looking at the pumpkins and talking about how cute these painted ones were, and they kind of…” Violetta flaps a hand toward the pumpkins, her tone uncertain. “Came to life?”

Skye says, “It’s like the tulips all over again.”

“It must be one of you who did it. Animating things must be your magic,” I say. “Any idea who?”

The other three women share questioning looks before shrugging and shaking their heads.

Babybelle leaps down and runs over to nibble on the leaf of one of the tulips, which starts to bat at her with its other leaf, its flower head shaking this way and that.

“No, Babybelle!” I scoop my familiar up into my arms. “We don’t eat the walking flowers!”

“How about them?” She points a hoof at the pumpkins.

“Or the walking pumpkins!”

“Since they don’t walk, that means I can eat them.”

“Okay, we don’t eat the rolling pumpkins.” I roll my eyes. “Sheesh, who made you the word police?”

The werepuppies come racing over, yipping and straining at the ends of the leashes Riselda holds. “What are these?” Astrid asks. “Are they fae?”

“They don’t smell like fae,” Agnar says, taking a big sniff.

“Guys, we’ve talked about this.” I throw up my hands. “You’re not supposed to talk in front of strangers.”

Their little ears and tails droop.

“But it’s okay to talk in front of these three women because they’re witches.” I turn to my friends. “This is Rune’s sister, niece, and nephew.”

Everyone says hi.

The puppies sniff at the flowers again. “But what are they?”

“They were created with human magic, witch magic,” I say. “Or at least we think so.”

“Can they play?” Astrid asks.

“They can play, but you can’t,” Rune says. “If you could shift, we wouldn’t need the leashes…” He lifts an eyebrow.

A pulse of magic flares through the air, and Astrid shifts from a wolf pup into a two-foot-tall werewolf. She leaps to her feet, arms thrown out for balance, like a surfer cresting a large wave. “Whoa, this feels so weird!”

“I want to feel weird!” Agnar protests, and another jolt of magic sizzles through the air. The new mini-werewolf jumps up and joins his sister.

Riselda shifts to her werewolf form, drops to her knees, and wraps an arm around each of her children in a tight hug. “Oh, my little ones! I’m so proud of you.”

Then Astrid and Agnar throw themselves at Rune, who laughs and catches them in his strong arms.

Someone shrieks, “Are those kids naked?”

“Picnic accident!” I yell the lie, strip off my jacket, and throw it over Agnar. Then I whisper-yell, “The non-magical humans aren’t seeing werewolves, they’re seeing naked kids. We need clothes—now!”

Skye pulls off her cardigan and wraps it around Astrid, and I unbuckle the leashes to avoid the awkwardness of any non-magical humans asking us about those.

Rune races toward Haute & Bothered and returns with one of the shadow fae dressmakers.

She takes one look at the twins and flicks her fingers.

Magic ripples through the air, and jeans, long-sleeved T-shirts, and sneakers appear on them.

Instead of being trapped, their tails extend behind them, wagging with happiness.

“Thank you,” Rune says.

“Happy to help the town protector,” the tall graceful woman says to me, the wish swap still confusing my job with Rune’s.

“Can you also bespell our clothes to allow our tails to be free in our werewolf forms?” Riselda asks.

“Of course.” The shadow fae flicks her fingers toward Riselda and Rune, emitting another wave of magic.

The werepuppies trot over to the tulips. “Let’s play!”

“Sure, but be careful with them. They’re not as tough as you guys.”

“Me too!” Babybelle bleats, kicking her legs to be put down.

“Do you promise to be good?” I make my tone stern. “This time there can’t be any mistakes like there were with the house shoes. The tulips are alive, and hurting them is serious.”

Babybelle stills and falls quiet, her eyes losing their usual mischievous gleam. “I really promise this time.”

I nod. “Okay. I love you, and I’m going to trust you, so make me proud.”

“I will!” As soon as I set her down, she goes over to the tulip she tried to nibble on and offers it a little lick of a goat kiss. “I’m sorry.”

Then the puppies start running, and the pumpkins tip onto their sides and give chase, rolling across the grass, their little faces flashing by in a blur. Babybelle gallops after them in the middle of the herd of tulips.

“That’s sure not something you see every day,” Kayla says, watching all of them play together.

Skye nods. “I love it.”

“Me too.” A grin stretches my cheeks.

“They finally shifted.” Riselda looks close to tears as she watches her children run about.

“They did.” Rune wraps an arm around her shoulders in a sideways hug, then looks at me. “Thank you.”

So much emotion fills his eyes, it takes my breath away.