Page 8 of Wishing for a Werewolf (Ferndale Falls Forever #2)

Autumn

As soon as Mrs. Greely steps into the Town Hall’s meeting room the next evening, I whisper-hiss out of the corner of my mouth into my phone, “Operation Events Binder is a go. I repeat—it’s a go. We’re radio silent from here on.”

Hannah and Skye’s excited confirmations ring in my ear right before I disconnect the call and silence all sounds on my phone.

Rune grunts and straightens from where he’s been leaning against the wood-paneled wall beside me.

His gaze follows mine over to where Mrs. Greely shuffles down the aisle between the folding wooden chairs toward the refreshment table, where Hannah spreads oatmeal chocolate chip cookies across a plate.

“You know what you have to do,” I murmur.

He gives a curt nod. “I do.” He should—I went over the plan ten times yesterday and another two just now while we waited.

“Remember, you need to smile and act charming.”

His only answer is a grunt as he follows after the elderly woman.

Oh, god, Mr. Grumpy Pants is totally going to eff this up! But we have to try. It’s my only shot at figuring out what went wrong with the hay maze applications without Mrs. Greely getting all judgy.

Skye enters the room, smiles, and heads toward me. Her hug is warm as she whispers, “Just tell me where you want me.”

“You’re the best.” I give her an extra squeeze before letting go.

Hannah nods at us from the front of the room, and taps her clipboard in a reminder that she arranged the town meeting’s agenda just as I asked.

I mouth a thank you.

My attention snaps to Rune as he reaches Mrs. Greely.

She grips her cane in one hand, the other clutching the fall festival events binder to her chest. An enthusiastic application of blue-rinse tinges her silver hair a faint purple, and her pale face carries more frown wrinkles than laugh lines.

Her velour tracksuit gleams a soft fall gold—she won’t break out the pumpkin-colored ones until we get closer to the festival.

The town busybody has never looked more like a “little old lady” than she does now, with the werewolf towering over her.

I sidle closer to the two of them, trying to act casual.

In an attempt to blend into the background, I dressed far more plainly than normal in jeans and a cream-colored tunic with only the tiniest bit of embroidery along the hem.

It’s impossible to make bright-red hair inconspicuous, so I hid its length under an oversized cloth baseball cap.

I even left off all of my bracelets and necklaces so they won’t clink together and give me away.

Rune’s deep voice rumbles, too quiet for me to make out the words, and her head tips back, her assessing eyes taking him in.

Then he does the last thing I expect. Okay, it shouldn’t be the last, because it’s exactly what I told him to do, but I never thought he would… or could.

Rune smiles, his golden eyes beaming with warmth. It makes his already handsome features downright irresistible. I sure hope it’s not having the same effect on Mrs. Greely as me. Because me? Total panty-melting emergency over here.

And the shocks keep coming! Mrs. Greely laughs—actually laughs—and taps his forearm with the head of her cane. “Why, you rascal, you.”

Rune sets several cookies on top of a napkin and offers her the crook of his elbow to escort her to the far left seat of the front row. While he gets her settled in, his eyes find me, and he flashes a tiny I-told-you-so grin.

Smartass, but a smartass who’s helping me, so I kind of like it.

He sits next to her. As soon as she sets her oversized handbag on the floor between their chairs, he plucks the binder from her hands and replaces it with the cookies.

When she starts to protest anyone else handling the notebook, he makes a production of shoving it into her purse, sliding the handbag back several inches as he does so.

I gotta hand it to him—that was pretty smooth.

Now it’s my turn.

I slip into the chair directly behind her, and Skye settles beside me. Now we wait, which feels effing impossible. The binder is right there.

But people are still entering the meeting room, still looking around for friends and places to sit. I won’t get away with anything until everyone’s settled and focused on Hannah speaking at the front.

The rest of the Witch Bitches fill the seats beside Skye and the ones behind me. They don’t have the full details of the plan, but they know enough to provide me with a human shield. And we often sit together at town meetings, so it shouldn’t make anyone suspicious.

Jared races into the room, muscular thighs shown off by skin-tight cycling shorts even in the cool fall weather.

The fit and perpetually sunburnt blond is one of those enthusiastic outdoors types who refuses to wear pants until there are a good six inches of snow on the ground.

Not that his new boyfriend seems to mind.

The tall wood nymph looks at Jared adoringly as they take their seats.

Next, a flock of pixies flies in. The cluster of tiny blue fae settles onto one of the chairs, making me wonder once again what the protection spell blanketing the town makes them look like for non-magical humans.

The room finally fills with a collection of humans and fae, gnomes, orcs, and our brownie baker adding to the mix.

Severin strides in, leading several other shadow fae, their magical powers tingling in the air.

Finally, Luke walks in and leans against a back wall, his red wings tucked close.

Usually, Rune would be right there beside him, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his expression unreadable.

Those two usually hover on the edges instead of joining in.

Not tonight. Tonight, the werewolf’s all smiles and sweet talk on the front row, and Mrs. Greely’s eating it up with a spoon. Not that I can blame her.

“Okay, everybody, let’s get started,” Hannah says. “I call this town meeting to order. We’ve got several things on the agenda this evening, so let’s start with the preparations to hold trick or treating downtown this year…”

Blocking out my friend’s voice, I get to work.

Hannah put the Ferndale Falls Fall Festival last on the agenda, so I’ve got a good ten to fifteen minutes.

Leaning over, I take off the baseball cap and let my hair cascade down in orange curtains around me.

Then I slip a pumpkin-colored binder out from under my top.

This one’s the exact same color as Mrs. Greely’s, only it’s blank inside.

It won’t stand up to serious scrutiny, but it’ll hopefully keep her from realizing anything’s going on if she glances at her purse.

Skye kicks her legs forward and sets her big library bag down to help block me from the rest of the room.

I “accidentally” drop my binder and double all the way over.

Quick as I can, I snag the orange notebook from Mrs. Greely’s bag and slide mine in.

When I straighten, I realize exactly how much mine doesn’t look like hers.

The real binder bulges with years of newspaper clippings and color-coded tabs, everything neatly labeled with the kind of precise penmanship you don’t see much these days.

My heart pounds. My binder’s not going to fool her after all. She never lets anyone else touch this one, so I had no real idea what it looks like. I need to work fast and pray Rune can keep her distracted.

Turning away from the rest of the room, it takes me a while to rifle through the pages to get to the info for this year’s festival.

Every second that ticks by makes my heart beat that much faster.

If I get caught, I’ll become a social pariah to all the busybodies in town, forever marked as that “troublesome redhead” and never allowed to participate in any of the community activities so vital to small-town life.

But if I don’t fix this mix-up, the family farm won’t get the boost it needs to turn things around.

Hannah stops talking about costume contests and starts fielding inquiries from various people in the room. Ugh, that’s another topic down!

Finally, I reach this year’s entries. I don’t have time to read, so I use my silenced phone to snap pictures of every page. When I get to the applications, the mailed-in copies have been pasted inside.

Skye leans close and whisper-hisses, “This is it. The last topic before the fall festival.”

I nod and start flipping pages faster, my thumb a blur as I snap pic after pic. I’m so caught up in the repetitive motions that it takes a moment to register when I finally turn to a completely empty page.

Triumph races through me. I did it! I got all the info!

Hannah’s voice rings out, “Anyone have any questions?”

There’s a stretched second of silence, then Mrs. Greely says, “I do. When are we going to talk about the most important thing, young lady? When are we going to talk about the fall festival?” Her hand stretches toward her purse.

Oh, god! Oh, god! My hands go clammy. I’m never going to get the binders switched in time! I need a miracle!

“Can I get you another cookie, Mrs. Greely?” Rune tries to distract her. “Or would you like some coffee?”

Her hand pauses for a split second, and I dart forward.

Then she says, “I’ve had enough cookies,” and starts reaching down again.

“Me!” a high voice cries. “Look at me!”

There’s a loud clatter of hooves striking wood—a very familiar clatter—and Babybelle races down the aisle of the room. She circles Hannah at a full gallop, then hops straight toward Mrs. Greely and bounds up onto the old woman’s lap. “Me! Me! Me! Pay attention to me!”

I have no effing clue what’s going on or why I’m hearing Babybell speak English, but I’m not one to look a gift horse—or goat—in the mouth. Leaning forward, I snatch the decoy from Mrs. Greely’s purse and slide her binder back into place.

When I straighten up, Babybelle’s mischievous eyes peer at me over the older woman’s shoulder. “I did it! I did it! I helped, too!”

I lean toward Skye and whisper, “Can you understand her?”

“Who, Mrs. Greely?”

“No, Babybelle.”

“No.” Then my friend’s eyes go wide, and she beams at me. “If you can understand Babybelle, she must be your familiar!”

“Yes!” Babybelle leaps onto Rune’s shoulder and uses it as a launch pad to dive bomb into my lap. She headbutts my chin. “I’m your familiar, and I helped you just like a good familiar should!”

“You sure did,” I whisper into the soft fur of her forehead. “How the hell did you get here? Did you hop the fence again?” The goat-proof fence.

“Yes! I knew you needed me. So I ran and ran, farther than I’ve ever run before.” Her amber eyes go pitiful. “I need goat cookies.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes me. “You’ll get them.”

Elation grips me as tightly as I hold my phone, eager to unlock all its answers.