I took off, darting along the trees that bordered the clearing. After a couple laps, I dashed through the forest and leaped as high as I could. I soared, skimming the top of a tree and landing on the other side of it, then rocketed back to the clearing and skidded to a stop several feet from the wolf.
He hadn’t moved. Standing on all fours, his ears stood straight up, tail down, eyes trained on me.
Holding out the back of my hand for him to sniff, I slowly moved toward him. He nearly touched my hand, blowing out quick breaths and warming my skin. I held very still as he edged even closer, dragging his wet nose up my arm and around my waist, circling me. Then he stood on his hind legs and laid a gentle paw on my shoulder, burying his muzzle in my neck and hair.
Holy crap. I had a wild wolf all over me.
He sucked in a long breath and exhaled at the back of my neck. I imagined that’s how Zack would sniff me. If I let him. Chills danced on my skin and tranquility washed over me as I ran a hand over his shoulder, my fingers reveling in his silky fur.
I stared at the wolf who was still eye level with me. “Oh my God.”
Zack was not a werewolf, damn it. He wasn’t. It was absurd to consider such a thing. Having super-human strength was one thing. Morphing into a completely different form was absolutely preposterous.
I stepped back and created distance between me and the wolf. “I have to go,” I mumbled, backing further away. Once in the trees, I hit the dirt at a dead run.
† † †
At nine o’ clock sharp the next morning, Zack rang the doorbell. He wore jeans and a work shirt, his sleeves pushed up, hair messy. He’d never looked better.
I flung the door open and folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
His mouth curved up. “Talk about what?”
“What I smell like. Besides, by now, you already know.” I took in a slow, deep breath. Yeah, I’d wanted Zack to explain himself last night, but since my most recent encounter with the wolf, I already suspected I was going insane — I didn’t want it confirmed. Not just yet anyway. “We’ll car shop and when we’re done for the day, we’ll go our separate ways.”
“What will I tell my mom and Aunt Cara when they ask why you declined their dinner invitation for tonight?” He smiled smugly.
I could feel my eye twitch. “What’s Cara making for dinner?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs.” He lifted one brow.
Bastard. “Fine. After dinner, we’re done.”
He gave me his lopsided grin, displaying the lone dimple. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” I grabbed my purse and we jumped into his car. “What’s with the shovel on the back of the Jeep?”
“Never know when you’ll need to bury a body.”
I stared at him.
“I’m teasing, Autumn.” He gave a quick laugh. “These vehicles are made for off-roading. Sometimes you need to dig yourself out of a ditch.”
I could totally picture Zack doing something like that, all rugged and manly. “Doesn’t seem to be helping you dig yourself out of the pile of crap you fell in last night.”
“If you’d let me explain—”
I held up a hand. “Not necessary. Really.”
At a stop sign, he held up a piece of paper, then set it on the dashboard and drove again.
“What’s that?”
“The address to a car I thought we’d check out. It’s close by.”
“What kind?”
“Mustang.”
I made a face. “A muscle car.”
“I guess so. They’re not known for being great on gas, but they’re not too bad and the miles on this one are low.” Checking to make sure the road was clear, he switched lanes. “Give it a chance. You never know what you’ll like unless you try.”
Several minutes later, we pulled up to a curb. A small yard artfully crowded with lush shrubbery and colorful blooms surrounded a little brick house. I’d been uneasy about buying a car from a private party, feeling safer getting something from a dealership that checked and rechecked their cars for quality. In theory anyway. My worries dissipated as I inhaled the fragrance of the flowers. Anyone who put this much care into their garden wouldn’t neglect a car, would they?
We knocked and moments later, a gray-haired man opened the door. He was so old that you could no longer tell his age. Seventy? Ninety?
“Mr. Peters?” When the man nodded, Zack continued. “Hi, I’m Zack. We spoke on the phone earlier this morning?”
Wow. Zack must have called before he came to my house. Calling that early on a Sunday? Impressive.
“This is Autumn. She’s the one looking for a car.”