by RJ Blain
“We are.”
That was new, and I eyed him, wondering what he was planning. “Do I still get my cupcake?”
“You’ll enjoy your dessert as usual, never fear. I’m afraid you’ll have to accept something a bit more decadent than a cupcake, however.”
I licked my lips. “You have my attention.”
“I’d like to keep your attention when you’re not working,” he replied, his amusement warming his voice. “I even have plans for lunch, too, as you have a bad habit of forgetting to feed yourself.”
My face flushed that he’d figured out I kept skipping lunch.
“Well, at least I don’t have to educate you on her eating habits,” my boss announced. “That leaves me with the standard lecture.”
Daniel frowned. “What standard lecture?”
“You hurt my mechanic, and I’ll make sure you live to regret it. I don’t need to be a lycanthrope to make you suffer, boy. I figure I can recruit a few extra hands to deal with you as needed.”
I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t crack up laughing at the thought of my boss putting Daniel in his place. Rolling my eyes over the men about to start displaying like peacocks, I focused on my work to avoid the embarrassment of them bickering over me.
“The last thing I want is to hurt her.”
“Well, someone did, and it took her months before she stopped flinching around the boys. You make her flinch, and I’ll teach you just how much damage an industrial lawn mower can do to someone.”
“His name’s Brad,” Daniel replied. “If he has a single brain cell left in his thick skull, he won’t bother her again.”
I admired how Daniel skirted the truth, and I shook my head over his willingness to identify the asshole who’d ruined so much of my life.
“Why don’t we go have a talk in my office, son? You stick around here while she’s prepping the mowers, and she’ll be too busy sneaking peeks to work, then she’ll get mad because we distracted her, and trust me when I say only a fool distracts her when she’s on a schedule.”
Great. I gave it five minutes before they were gossiping in my boss’s office. At a loss of how to stop them, I shook my head and got to work so I could get on with the rest of my day.
My boss kept Daniel busy until lunch, something I considered a miracle, but if I had my way, I’d keep tearing apart the backhoe determined to discover why the damned thing kept stuttering instead of turning over. Once the engine started, it ran like a champ, but getting it to work involved some teeth grinding, prayer for divine intervention, and a shameful number of threats.
I suspected the spark plugs were to blame, but I worried some other gremlin infected the machine.
Daniel tapped his foot and crossed his arms. “Step away from the big machine, Emily. It’s time for us to go to lunch.”
I twisted around to glare at him. “It’s still broken.”
“It won’t be going anywhere while we’re having lunch.”
“But it’s still broken.”
“Emily, leave it. It’s lunch time, and you need food.”
“But I’m not done here.”
Daniel strode over, and I hissed at him. He ignored me, wrapped his arm around my waist, and lifted me off the floor. I grabbed for the backhoe’s door and held on. “I’m not done!” I howled.
I clung to the backhoe, he pulled, and my knuckles turned white from the effort of keeping him from dragging me away from my work.
“Why are you being stubborn? I’m trying to feed you. You have to leave for me to feed you. I have plans, and they involve us leaving for an hour.”
“But I’m not done here.”
“Emily, we’re going to lunch. It’ll be here when we get back.” Daniel grunted and pulled harder until my fingers slipped and I lost my hold on the backhoe. He dragged me towards the door while I scrambled for a handhold. “No wonder you got away with so much. You’re determined. You need lunch, and you need lunch now.”
“I wasn’t done working, damn it!”
My boss chuckled. “This explains a few things. Emily, no one will touch the backhoe. It’s definitely not going anywhere with parts of its engine dismantled. Just put it back together when you get back.”
“I need spark plugs.”
“Have your man take you to pick up the plugs after lunch. Use lunch as an excuse to go pick up parts. Just bring me the receipt so I can comp you for any expenses.”
Without noticing my weight or struggling, Daniel hauled me to the door. “I’ll take her to get the parts she needs. Anything else while we’re out?”
“Get her something she likes to drink to put in the fridge. Try to get her to drink something other than water for a change, even if it’s that sparkling crap.”
Daniel sighed. “I’ll bring something for her.”
“Hey, I like water just fine, thank you!” I’d spent years guzzling water. I liked it. Water was life, and I wouldn’t betray it.
“When your boss says to get you something for the fridge, I’m getting you something for the fridge. I’ll bring her back in an hour.”
“Take as long as you need in the parts store. They have a section dedicated to decals. Let her loose and point at the most feminine ones you can find. She’s been on a mission to trick out a few of the machines. If she tries to get parts for the wood chipper, please try to stop her.”
“Really, Emily?” Daniel laughed, shook his head, and dragged me towards his rental. “I’ll try to keep her partially contained, sir.”
“You do that. I wish you the best of luck. You’ll need it. I’ll be in my office if you need me, so just give a call.”
Daniel refused to let me go until I surrendered and buckled in. He even closed the door and waggled his finger at me as though it might actually keep me in the vehicle. It did. I couldn’t bring myself to spoil his efforts to drag me away from work.
Through it all, my virus slept, everything perfect in its little world.
Chapter Seven
I spent the week working on the mowers and making sure they would survive two weeks without any tender, loving care from me. Daniel spent more time with my boss than with me, which I found amusing.
Them becoming friends had been the last thing I’d expected, but I liked the development. I suspected Daniel reassured himself I worked for someone he liked and could trust. I’d heard about lycanthropes being overly protective, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it would apply to every element of my life.
The novelty of being wanted kept me quiet, and Daniel’s enjoyment of joining me at work ensured I waited around for him in the morning even when he made me later than I liked.
When Friday morning rolled around, I arrived to find every truck and mower already gone and a pile of gift-wrapped packages inside the garage along with a note consisting of two words: go home.
I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. “They took my mowers and left presents?”
“How terrible, your co-workers wishing you well the night before your wedding.” Daniel counted boxes. “Twenty presents, all of them just for you. Whatever will you do?”
It’d been so long since I’d gotten presents from anyone I needed to fight the urge to pounce the pile and start tearing off the wrapping paper. Someone had even used cheery green and red Christmas paper on one of them. “This is when I’m supposed to hoard them like a dragon and hit anyone who tries to take them, right? Do I get to open them today or do I have to wait until tomorrow?”
“They’re your presents. You can open them whenever you want.”
While tempted to tear into them, I snatched Daniel’s keys out of his hands and ran to the car to bring it closer so I could load my prizes before they grew feet and walked off.
His laughter followed me.
Once I had the car in place, I popped the trunk and began loading them in, giggling when I ran out of space and had to pile the rest on the backseat. Once done, I made sure everything was locked up so nothing would be disturbed while everyone was workin
g. “No one told me I got presents for marrying you.”
“It’s traditional. Technically, they’re presents for us, but I’m assuming they’re all meant for you since your co-workers just glare at me like I’m a threat to their general well-being. I even promised I’d bring you back after our honeymoon. Maybe they’re bribing you to stick around even if you decide to go back to nursing school?”
“Maybe if you’d stop strutting like a peacock and acting like they’re threats to your future marital status, they wouldn’t glare at you. And anyway, half of them are accident prone and it wouldn’t hurt having someone who actually knows what they’re doing putting them back together.” I checked to make sure none of my presents would fall on our way back to our apartment and tossed his keys back to him. “Take us home. I have presents to unwrap.”
Daniel laughed. “If I’d known how excited you’d get over unwrapping presents, I would’ve wrapped your cakes and cupcakes so you could enjoy them even more.”
Blushing, I got into the rental and tried to ignore the reasons why so many presents excited me. “That sounds like a recipe for cupcake disaster. Ruined cupcakes would not be good, Daniel.”
“This is true. You looked ready to cry when some of your raspberries escaped from your cake. I’m still concerned you’re going to pick up some sort of illness from eating raspberries off the floor.” He chuckled, waited for me to buckle in, and headed back for our apartment. “You’ll appreciate the extra day off work tomorrow. We can relax, make certain we have everything ready, and double-check our plans.”
“I don’t have a mulcher. Every time I tried to get a mulcher, you kept refusing to take me to the store. You won’t even take me to the junkyard. You keep distracting me every time I try to go.”
His distractions had ranged from outings to restaurants, one venture to a farmer’s market, a trip to the mountains for a hike and an evening flight coupled with a hunting lesson, and more cupcakes than I could shake a stick at. It was fortunate lycanthropes had wonky metabolisms; at my current rate of cupcake consumption, I should’ve gained at least a hundred pounds and diabetes.
“The type of wood chipper you want costs eight thousand at minimum. The model you like is sixteen thousand. You want to spend that much to use it once and light it on fire. You refused to entertain a used or lesser model. As such, we have come up with several alternatives.”
I scowled. “Like what?”
“It’s a surprise. Consider it a wedding present from me to you. You’ll even like it.”
I would? “Will it be as satisfying as stuffing his deceased ass into a mulcher?”
“I’m hoping you’ll like it that much.”
I wasn’t sure anything could top the satisfaction of making Brad disappear forever, but I’d trust his word—and accept I could spend the eight to sixteen thousand on something else. “You just didn’t want me to spend that much money on Brad.”
He chuckled. “That was definitely a factor. I also don’t want to have to lug a charred wood chipper to a junk yard to be scrapped. It’d be awkward explaining why the wood chipper was charred. That sort of thing makes people ask questions. For the record, I tested to see how hard one was to clean after running a chicken through it. It was not pretty, Emily. It took three of us five hours to get it back into working order again.”
“You ran a chicken through a mulcher?”
“It wasn’t pretty. I will give you credit: you’d come up with a very good method of trashing the body, but upon closer investigation, it would be exceptionally difficult to remove all evidence.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“You didn’t account for the spray radius. There’d be evidence left everywhere, and while we could rig a controlled bonfire with some help with magic, we wouldn’t be able to torch a sufficient space to completely remove the evidence. Also, don’t ask about the smell or how far away we found bits of chicken.”
Gross. “Point taken. So the mulcher plan is officially dead?”
“Unfortunately. I was volunteered to talk about the other options we have.”
“We suck at premeditated murder, don’t we?”
“I wouldn’t say we suck at it. We’re just being realistic and careful about our plans. We do have rules we have to play by. There’s just too much risk of long-term consequences using a wood chipper. If you got away with it, it would be brilliant, but too much can go wrong.”
“That is pretty disappointing.”
“It was a horror show, Emily. When the wolves are horrified by the carnage, it’s time to come up with a new plan.”
I huffed. “Wussy wolves. No one was asking them to stuff the bastard into the mulcher. I’d do it myself.”
“Do you know how long it takes to get blood out of your hair?”
“Well, no. I don’t. I try to keep blood out of my hair in the first place.”
“You would be covered head to toe in bits of Brad. He would get into your hair, into your clothes, and you’d be wearing him for the rest of the day. I don’t want my wife to be wearing bits of Brad on our wedding day.”
I considered that, grimacing at the thought of having to brush bits of Brad out of my hair. I also didn’t want to think about where his bits might infiltrate in liquefied form. “You’re possibly convincing me to avoid mulching him. Was the blood spray from the chicken that bad?”
“It was like a pillow factory exploded and took out a blood bank when it went. We were all rather impressed by the spray radius. Chickens have substantially less blood than humans. We weren’t expecting the blood to spray out of every moving part in the machine, though. You don’t want to know how hard it was to clean up. We had to return the damned thing in pristine condition.”
I winced. “Okay, having done full cleanings of those machines, I can understand why that would not be fun. You used an industrial model?”
“I managed to get a hold of your dream machine for the experiment, and I paid a rather substantial price to do it. Someone had one they were willing to risk. He was confident a chicken wouldn’t damage the machine, and when Jacob opened his mouth and told the guy you fixed these machines for a living, he seemed eager to give me a taste of what it was like having to tear apart one and properly take care of it. I’ve been educated. It wasn’t nearly as easy as I thought it would be.”
I giggled. “That’s great. How’d you like pretending you’re a mechanic?”
“I have a great deal more respect for what you deal with than I did last week. I had no idea how difficult it could get to make all those parts fit back together and work when done. We ultimately had to ask for help to get it back together again. And you learned how to do this from fiddling?”
Yep, Daniel had been talking to my boss a lot. “I’m not fiddling.”
“You fiddle, Emily. You tear things apart to see how they work when you get bored. It’s going to be my life’s mission to make sure you never get bored. I’m concerned you’ll dismantle the house if I let you get bored.”
I thought about it, accepted he was likely right, and grinned. “You still have a chance to run away if you can’t handle it.”
My virus rejected my idea, and it writhed under my skin.
“I’m looking forward to handling you.”
Nice. My virus liked the idea of him handling me, too. “Tomorrow, over Brad’s dead body. Well, later that night because that’s creepier than even I’m okay with. I draw the line at mulching his corpse.”
“I’m so grateful you have a line, even though your line is still messy and disturbing.”
“But satisfying.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
My co-workers had a twisted sense of humor. Every present included at least one item meant entirely for Daniel’s enjoyment, and some of them were made of nothing but string barely held together with scraps of lace. I held up one such piece, both my brows raised high. “Should I be disturbed?”
“You can blame Miranda and Annie. Upon questioning, there was nothing i
n the doctor and bridesmaid-of-murder agreements barring them from sharing your clothing sizes with interested parties for purposes of showering you with gifts.” Daniel’s smile promised he meant to enjoy the scraps of fabric masquerading as clothing. “I find it amusing you’re fixated on the lingerie when you have some really nice presents obviously meant for just you.”
I bit my lip, dropping the latest piece of lingerie onto the pile and gave the other gifts my full attention. A fortune worth of tools littered the living room floor, someone had determined I really needed a black leather jacket in my life, a pair of ass-kicker boots in white, likely meant to be worn with my wedding dress for my date with beating Brad into the afterlife, a matching pair in black, more pots and pans than I knew what to do with, and a gift certificate to an auto parts store.
The gift certificate puzzled me, and I snatched it, waving it at Daniel. “This one is just wrong. I don’t have a car.”
Daniel made a thoughtful noise. “Oh. You don’t?”
I shot him a glare. “You know I don’t. You don’t, either. You have an FBI-issued vehicle they gave you earlier this week to use for work. I think they feel sorry for you.”
“Or they just got tired of paying for a rental.”
“That, too.”
“You’re right. You don’t have a car.”
“Are all owls jerks?”
“Yes, we are.” Daniel hopped to his feet, dodged the mess of wrapping paper and gifts, and headed into the bedroom. He emerged with a gold-wrapped box, which he tossed to me. “I was going to give that to you as a consolation prize for marrying me, but I figure you can use that as part of the festivities tomorrow.”
“Was I supposed to get you a present? I didn’t get you a present, Daniel.”
“You are the present, and I’m completely happy with that.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“We’re owls. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”