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 felt that comment in my soul.
“The homes we have on the property are reserved for members with family units.”
“What counts as a family unit?” I asked.
“An adult and a child, or a married couple. Two or more constitutes a family,” he replied. “You and Duncan would after your trial period.”
We got to the end of another hallway, the smell of cooked meat getting stronger the closer we got.
Duncan even sped up to a trot, his nose tipped up high, his tail sticking straight up in the air. He almost looked like he was prancing.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket a little and snapped a picture of him.
Franklin kept talking. “Since there aren’t many of us, we set up a meal schedule for breakfast and dinner. It’s more convenient, so we aren’t stepping all over each other and there aren’t arguments about cleaning pots and pans.”
I nodded, listening… but also keeping an eye on Prancer over here. His ears were so long they were inches from dragging along the floor. It was so precious.
Even more adorable was the way I could faintly hear him saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” in excitement from whatever he smelled that he was thrilled about.
“There’s a monthly calendar in the pantry where you can sign up to make breakfast or dinner when you can, along with what meal you’re preparing. Our only request is that you decide twenty-four hours in advance. If someone doesn’t want to eat it, they don’t. We understand sometimes someone is busier than normal, so we don’t have a minimum or a limit on how many times you do it as long as you do. Be fair about it, that’s all we ask. Some days, everyone is on their own.” Brownish-greenish eyes met mine. “Will that be an issue?”
“No. I like cooking,” I confirmed, pondering over their schedule. “Are we in charge of paying for groceries ourselves or does everyone pool money together?” I made enough to live off without sweating small extra expenses too bad, but feeding other adults? Especially carnivores?
I didn’t make enough for that.
Franklin looked startled. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “The community fund pays for the groceries for all residents. We have a shipment from a grocer supply that delivers food once a week. If you want something that isn’t included in the staples, you’re responsible for purchasing it yourself.”
“There’s a community fund? And it pays for groceries?” I asked just as we made it to the doorway that led into a spacious kitchen.
The room was the size of a commercial kitchen, yet still homey. Dark cabinets framed most of the walls, there were two giant islands, and at least four built-in ovens visible from where we stood. A big two-door stainless steel fridge took up another wall, and there was another steel door off to the side that reminded me of the kind of walk-in refrigerators I’d seen in restaurants.
But most astounding of all was the man at the multi-burner range, a spatula in one hand, a white wolf puppy at his feet.
“…revenues from the community’s businesses pay for certain things. What I mean when I say grocery staples are meats mostly, but also breads, some dairy, fruits, and vegetables. If you’re looking for rare French cheese, that would be your financial responsibility.”
Dang it, I’d missed part of what he’d said. I’d been too focused on Henri’s back, taking him in as he’d turned while the elder spoke. He had a green flannel shirt tucked into jeans, his hair damp from a shower. He’d shaved since last night.
Smooth skin looked good on him too.
“Morning, Henri,” Franklin greeted him. “Smells delicious.”
“Cheesy omelets,” the werewolf explained. His gaze flicked in my direction. “Morning,” he greeted us. So polite.
I smiled. “Morning, Henri. Hi, Agnes.”
The white puppy had angled her body to the side, keeping an eye on us. I bent down and picked up Duncan to show him to her, even though she would’ve already smelled him by that point. Both of their ears perked. Setting him down, I watched as Franklin headed to the double-door refrigerator and pulled out a container of orange juice that he held up. “Nina?”
“Yes, please.”
“Water for the… oh, he found it,” Franklin trailed off at the exact second the sound of slurping reached me, and I leaned over to find two bowls of water—one ceramic, the other stainless steel—on the floor. Duncan was drinking from the ceramic one. “We wash those throughout the day. If you see it dirty, please clean it.”
At the stove, Henri asked over his shoulder, “Is he a picky eater?”
I couldn’t help but shiver a little. “No. He just stopped trying to eat dead animals a week ago.” A gag built up in my throat at the memory of the things I’d pulled out of his mouth. Part of me had figured that he wouldn’t get sick from it—I remembered Matti eating all kinds of messed-up stuff when we’d been kids and he’d been in wolf form passing as a puppy—but I hadn’t wanted to get too crazy, at least until he built up a better immune system.