Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
I made a face. I didn’t kill spiders, the dark was pretty much my friend, heights were fine. They wouldn’t get my joke about taxes and credit ratings. Why couldn’t anything come to mind?
“See!” Pascal shouted, laughing like a maniac. “See!”
I swear, there was something wrong with werewolf children. They were insane. The older ones were nuts, but the younger ones were even worse. No wonder I had loved Matti so much.
I missed him. He had planned on coming to visit, but he’d had contracts come in that were good business, and we were postponing our reunion. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and I was glad he was making money.
“Listen, I am scared of things, I just can’t think of anything right now. And there’s nothing wrong with being scared. But why are you scared of Dom?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light and not like I might have to escalate what had happened last night depending on his answer.
“Because he’s mean!” someone in the back shouted.
I tried my best not to react, but…. “So mean!” someone else said. “He broke my bat!”
“He told me I was annoying!” another child added.
Who in the world could be mean to these little sweethearts?
I was going to have to put water in someone’s gas tank.
Pascal started scooting over. “Do you,” he dropped his voice to the barest whisper in the middle of scooching even closer, “have superpowers?”
I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around the small, big-mouth wolf with the crazy imagination. And the small, big-mouth wolf hesitated zero seconds before wrapping his scrawny arms around me.
He whispered, again, “Do you?”
So I whispered back, “No, but I wish I did.”
His body sagged, and I had to fight not to laugh.
“I’m sorry.”
He hugged me tighter. “It’s okay.”
A damp nose nudged the side of my head, and I lifted it to find Duncan there. He put a paw on my knee. Was he jealous? I released one arm from around Pascal and wrapped it around my own pup, bringing him in close.
And before I knew it, there were multiple puppies surrounding me, and I somehow gave them all hugs—minus Agnes, who stayed back, but I made sure to make eye contact with her and smile.
I hadn’t even thought about how this conversation might affect her. Dang it. I’d make it up to her. It was my goal to bring her along to do more things with us. I wasn’t going to let her continued wariness stop me.
For the time being, I hugged and I cuddled, and then there were a few more children and pups that came in for thirds and fourths, and who was I to say no?
The entire time, Duncan sat halfway on my lap, possessive but not demanding and licking the occasional friend when they wandered over.
Maybe I didn’t need everyone to like me. Maybe I just needed a few who really mattered. That was something to think about.
“This is the life, Dunky.” I sighed with pleasure later that night.
A piece of jerky was hanging out of Duncan’s mouth when he turned toward me. “Yes,” he agreed, his mouth shaped the way that made it look like he was smiling. “Love.”
I held back a sigh at the familiar but different face sitting across the bed from me. His ears were longer, his jaw a little wider. And there was no denying the fact he was taller and his ribs were thicker. Even his flame was bigger.
Growth was a good thing, I reminded myself, taking in the boy who had been the center of my life for the last two years.
And today had been a great day. A part of me was still riding high from the scene in the nursery earlier, getting more hugs in the matter of an hour than I’d probably gotten in an entire year at some points in my life. The kids were the best, and I wanted to thank all of their parents for raising them to be so great.
Now, with my favorite kid of them all, it had turned into an even better day, I thought, as I wiggled under the covers even deeper, snuggled up all nice and comfy with him beside me, tucked up against my legs as we watched a movie about an accountant who wasn’t really an accountant.
I scratched his butt with one hand and angled the pillows behind my back and head better so I could be propped up higher.
“I was thinking we should make some chicken jerky this weekend. What do you think?” I asked, reaching for the bag of jerky on my lap and taking a piece out. To my side, there was a plate of apple slices and sweet potato chips made with coconut oil. Dunky’s favorite snacks.
“Yes,” he answered immediately, back to gnawing on his jerky.