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| © Bru Baker
The view from the beach at our remote hotel in the
Guanacaste region of Costa Rica.
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| © Bru Baker Low tide at Matapalo Beach in Guanacaste, Costa Rica |
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| My very real socked interloper on this flight to SFO. |
It was smart, isolating the camp on a parcel of land surrounded by public parklands. Nick bet if he looked at the land records he’d find the national parkland had been donated by a wealthy family, with the camp itself being left as private property. Hidden on thousands of acres, people would have eventually forgotten the entire tract wasn’t public land.
Anyone who stumbled on Camp H.O.W.L. now saw miles of fencing and warnings about not picking up hitchhikers. The camp was officially a private program for troubled teens who needed nature therapy.
He hadn’t come across a wolfling yet, but dinner was just ending. They’d still been in lockdown when he and Harris had arrived, and now he could hear the muffled chaos of a large group of teens talking and eating in the mess hall nearby. He’d already looked over the roster of kids in his cabin—all boys. They were breaking him in gently, because God only knew what a cabin full of teenage girl drama would be like.
The infirmary was one of the few buildings on campus that didn’t have a view of the lake. Every light blazed like some sort of homing beacon. Did they always leave it lit up like that, or was it for his benefit?
Nick lifted a shoulder and sniffed at his shirt, reassuring himself he’d changed out of Drew’s dirty one at the cabin. He’d stuffed it in his suitcase after unpacking—lying and telling himself he’d stashed it there so it didn’t get mixed in with his laundry and not in a lame attempt to preserve the remnants of their scents mixed together.
He jogged up the cedar stairs and into the building, following the quiet hum of conversation through the small lobby and deeper into the darkened hallway. There was an empty desk—reception, he guessed—and few small exam rooms with the doors propped open. A staircase led upstairs, but the voices were coming from farther back. He emerged onto a large screened-in porch, joining a group of about ten people who were milling around with plates of food.
Anne Marie snagged him immediately. “Welcome, Nick. We usually eat in the mess hall before the meeting, but today was a little hectic with the storm cleanup. The mess sent over some food, and we were just finishing up. Help yourself if you’re hungry.”
His stomach was too tied up in knots to eat, but he knew he’d regret it later if he didn’t try to force something down. It wasn’t like he could make a Taco Bell run at midnight if he got hungry.
The dinner laid out on the table didn’t look like something that had been pulled together for a last-minute meal. There were platters of roast beef sandwiches on thick slices of brioche, several types of salads, and some sort of soup that smelled mouthwatering. Spicy and sweet.
His pulse quickened as he took another breath. It wasn’t the soup.
He was wearing one of his own clean shirts, but Drew’s smell was unmistakable. He’d spent last night trying to memorize it to give himself something to think about on his lonely nights at camp. Nick turned around and scanned the room, looking for the source of the smell. Anne Marie was talking to Kenya, and the rest of the staff was clustered in groups of threes and fours, chatting. Harris was nowhere to be seen, but he’d told Nick he had mess-hall duty, so he was probably still there keeping an eye on the wolflings.
There weren’t any other familiar faces, and Nick forced himself to take a calming breath. Clearly he was losing his mind.
Nick helped himself to a plate and a sandwich and wandered over to the edge of the porch. The infirmary might not have a view of the lake, but it had its own pond out back. Water burbled down a pebbled wall, and he could smell the citrusy tang of the lemongrass growing in pots along the edge. It blended nicely with the sharp smell of the evergreens that blanketed the forest. The entire setup was peaceful and relaxing, which made sense. This was an infirmary, after all. Weres were immune to most diseases and infections, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t break bones or injure themselves in the same ways humans did. They just healed faster—especially in an environment like this.
“It’s a wonderful place to spend an afternoon reading,” Kenya said, joining him. “The pond has koi in it, and when it gets a little warmer, we’ll bring out hammocks and chairs so everyone can enjoy the pond. Though I suppose that might change. Diann kept the pond and the porch open for anyone, but it’s not actually meant to be a public space. The camp doctor lives upstairs, so this is really an extension of his home.”
Nick hadn’t realized the doctor lived there, but it made sense. The stairs he’d passed probably led to an apartment. The doctor needed to be available at all hours to care for sick wolflings, and living above the infirmary would make that easy.
“I think you’ll like him,” she said, gesturing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “You two are about the same age, and he’s got a great sense of humor.”
The spicy-sweet smell intensified, and Nick turned around, panic building tight and hot in his throat. It couldn’t be, could it?
But it was.
Drew stood in the doorway, freshly showered and dressed in a Camp H.O.W.L. T-shirt that was just a little bit too big. It dipped below his collarbone, exposing a love bite Nick had left there last night. It was only visible for a second, disappearing behind the sweater Drew pulled over his head before stepping onto the porch.
“Sorry for holding you up,” Drew said, slightly breathless. “I wanted to wash the plane off.”
He’d probably wanted to wash the scent of a werewolf off too. Nick had done the same as soon as he’d gotten into his room, even though smelling a human on him wouldn’t have caused any problems. Not like the scent of a foreign wolf would in a new den.
Drew’s hair had been mussed by the collar of his sweater, and he absently ran his hands through it to tame it, a motion that looked so practiced Nick doubted he knew he was doing it, let alone how sexy it was.
“Already wearing the merch, Dr. Welch?” someone called from a chair a few feet away.
Drew laughed. “Like it’s a surprise, Scott. I think this one is yours, isn’t it? I recognize the ketchup stain under the O.”
“Why aren’t you wearing mine?” a tiny blonde sitting on the arm of an easy chair called out.
“The one you sent had literal sparkles and ended under my nipples, Kaylee. I’m saving it for a special occasion, obviously.”
The thought of Drew in a skin-tight belly shirt made Nick shiver. What the hell was going on? Was this actually happening or was he having some sort of stress-induced hallucination? If it really was Drew—and his nose was telling him it was—then why was he acting like he knew every werewolf in the room? How was he even in the room? This was a Were camp, and the last time he’d checked, Drew was decidedly lacking in an inner wolf.
“Everyone sent Drew an article of clothing that carried their scent so he’d smell like Pack when he got here,” Kenya explained, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “We figured it would be easier for the wolflings to accept a human if he smelled like he belonged here right from the beginning.”
It wasn’t just a scent thing. Drew acted like he belonged here, too. He was completely at home, joking around with everyone like they were old friends. Hell, he wasn’t even wearing shoes. The sight of his bare toes poking out from the hem of his jeans was so domestic it made Nick want to pounce and claim him right there on the floor. The thought made him scowl at the bare wooden planks like they’d offended him. Even though he’d been fantasizing about finding Drew all day, seeing him here was nightmare. Nick didn’t want a relationship with him, not a real one. And now that they were coworkers, they certainly couldn’t be fuck buddies.
Kenya turned to face him, and Nick realized he hadn’t said anything since Drew had walked in.
“That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” she asked sharply. “Drew being human?”
As a coworker? No. But as a huge complication in Nick’s work life? Yes.
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| AMAZON BN KOBO |
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| AMAZON |
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| The wreath Thing 2 and I made last Christmas. |
Grant rooted around in the basket and found the set of glittery rub-on letters he’d put in earlier. “You said you were giving the wreath to your aunt, right Aubrey?”
Aubrey shifted her focus to him without missing a beat. “My Aunt Jo.”
“Well, if you think she’d like it we can monogram the wreath with her initials. I think it would look great with the frosted ornaments you’ve picked out.”
Aubrey squealed. “She’d love that!”
“Okay. Well, once we get your wreath glued together we’ll put these letters on the three ornaments that are in the center. What do you think? Top or bottom?”
Josh made a choking noise from the next table where he’d sunk into a chair with his coffee. Grant looked up, startled, and then caught the accidental innuendo. Instead of backing away from it as he should have, he dug in deeper. “If it was for me I’d say bottom. It’s my favorite position for things like that. It’s always better on the bottom.”Josh’s coffee sloshed when he put it down abruptly, spilling over his knuckles as his coughing fit continued. Grant didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but at least he’d tried.
“I want to put them at the bottom,” Aubrey said, blessedly oblivious to the undertones. “Monograms are the things with the letters from her name, aren’t they?”
Aubrey’s wreath was all arranged, so Grant turned on the glue gun to warm it up. He’d gone with an assortment of bright colors for his, laid haphazardly. It was a big contrast to Aubrey’s carefully laid pattern of understated colors. They looked great next to each other. He’d have to take a photo for the studio’s Instagram when they were done. And maybe a few with Aubrey and Hot Divorced Dad for his own personal scrapbook of students with their art.
“You can do monograms two ways. You can do the first letter from her first and last name only or you can add her middle initial, too,” he told her. Josh had recovered from his coughing fit and was watching them with a veiled expression, his long legs splayed as he lounged in a chair that was meant for someone much smaller than him. Grant’s knees were practically touching his ears, so he could sympathize.
Aubrey studied her wreath. “It would be nice and centered if we do the one with three.”
The kid had great instincts. Grant hoped she’d become a regular, and not just because Josh came with her. He didn’t know if she had any natural talent for drawing or painting, but her eye for color and design was well beyond her age. He’d bet that carried over into artistic talent, especially given how well her father could paint.
“We’ll do three, then. You’ll need to find her initials in capital letters.”
Aubrey talked to herself as she chose the letters. “Josephine Clarke.” She frowned and looked over her shoulder at Josh. “What’s her middle name?”
“Lynn,” Josh said without hesitation.
That must mean this aunt was his sister. Between the shared last name and his certainty about her middle name, it made sense.
“Hmm.” Aubrey dug through and found an L. “Mom’s middle name is Lydia.”
“And mine is Leonard,” Josh said.
Aubrey giggled. “So you all have the same monogram?”
Josh’s ex hadn’t changed her last name? Didn’t women usually do that after a divorce? And her name started with J, too? They’d probably had one of those weddings with their initials engraved on everything. It would have been cute. Grant kind of hated her for that.
The light on the glue gun clicked off, signaling it was ready to use. Was Aubrey ready to handle it on her own? Grant flicked his glance from the glue gun to Josh, who shrugged.
“She’s used one before, but I don’t know how closely Jill supervised.”
So the ex’s name must be Jill. Josh and Jill. It’s too adorable to hate them. Ugh.
“I’m allowed to hold the pieces together,” Aubrey said. She waved a hand dismissively.
“You have to put the glue on.”
Well that settled that.
March 25: MM Good Books: A primer in our favorite category romance tropes
March 29: Kimmers Erotic Book Banter: Why Crawford and Mateus's story makes good fiction but bad reality
March 30: Open Skye: Meet Mateus and Crawford
March 31: My fiction Nook: Video reading
April 1: Alpha Book Reviews: Top 10 things authors do on release day
April 3: Novel Approach: The Auntie Anne's copycat recipe you never knew your life was missing
April 4: Love Bytes: Video reading (featuring those delectable pretzels)
April 5: Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words: Interview
April 6: Boy Meets Boy: Video reading
April 6: Kimi-Chan Experience: LA Times Festival of Books and what's next
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