by T. S. Ryder
Was he naked? She wondered. Was he actually naked on her back patio? That didn’t sound like Mr. Crane at all. His family was famous in Cryer’s Bluff, the town had almost been named after them. Crane Antiques were considered the best antique and custom furniture outlet in the world. Henry Crane, who was currently sitting naked in front of her, was the CEO and principal shareholder. He had graduated from Harvard. His family had never had even a whiff of impropriety against them. The Cranes were perfect. They were rich, intelligent, well-travelled and, above all, incredibly attractive.
“Sure, just a sec,” Agatha managed to sputter as she hurried inside, grabbed her bathrobe and headed back outside. Her eyes focused on the treetops behind them as Agatha handed Mr. Crane her robe which he quickly belted around himself.
She still couldn’t believe that Henry Crane was in her backyard. She had worked for him for the last eight years and had only ever seen him in passing. He was notoriously private. He wasn’t an actively social man and people rarely saw him outside of his mansion up on the bluff.
“Here,” Agatha said holding out her phone. It hung in the air between them as he looked first at it and then up at her.
“I am sorry, Agatha. I am sorry that you have had to see me like this. I promise I don’t make a habit of sleeping in my employees’ backyards.”
If only he did, she thought wistfully. A naked man on the property sounded very dangerous unless it was this man. Henry Crane could show up in her backyard naked any day he pleased.
“You know my name?” She stammered tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he took her phone.
“Of course, I know your name. You’re one of my best employees.” He said it in such a casual manner that Agatha for a moment thought she had imagined it. Mr. Crane actually knew her? It seemed impossible.
She knew him of course. She knew everything about him. He was thirty-four years old. He had been born here in Cryer’s Bluff. He had inherited the family business from his father and it had only grown more successful under Henry. He wore dark suits to work and drove fancy cars.
Agatha rarely had a reason to speak to Mr. Crane at work. He had a fabulously attractive assistant that did most of his communication for him. He always seemed so far away and untouchable, but that had never stopped Agatha from dreaming about him. She had several elaborate fantasies that involved Mr. Crane sweeping her off her feet and taking her away to some private island where the two of them could be alone to do whatever dirty deeds she could imagine.
“You’re lucky, you know. When I came home last night there were these two huge wolves fighting on my property. It's a wonder you didn't run into them.” Agatha said with a shake of her head.
It was at that moment that a stunning realization hit her. It was like a ton of bricks had just been thrown directly at her stomach. She lost her breath and the world spun in front of her as the thought seeped into her brain.
Huge wolves acting strangely at night. A naked man in the backyard. No. It was impossible. They were just stories, not real. There was no such thing as Werewolves and to even say that word in front of Henry Crane would be madness.
Chapter Three
“This is a nice house,” Henry said as he walked inside. Agatha knew she should say something, but what? She wasn’t going to actually ask Henry Crane if he was a Werewolf. No, she could never do that. He dialed a number from memory and spoke quietly into the phone in a language she couldn’t understand.
“Did you see the wolves last night? They were spotted all over town.” She stared at his face watching his reaction. His eyes narrowed and he gave her a stern look. The problem was, a stern look was much less effective when the person giving the look was wearing a bathrobe.
When she didn’t look away first, he did.
“My mother used to tell me stories that her grandmother told her,” Agatha continued. His silence had emboldened her. “When my grandmother was just a little girl, Cryer’s Bluff was beset by a huge wolf. It was only ever seen at night and was three times larger than any normal animal. It killed livestock: sheep, cows and pigs. But livestock wasn’t enough. It started hunting people.”
Without asking, Henry moved into the kitchen and began to open cabinet doors until he found one with water glasses. He quickly filled it from the tap, guzzled it down and filled the glass again.
“Then it came for people. It knew how to break into houses. People would bar their doors at night, but it wasn’t enough, the wolf would get in anyway. It would break down doors and dive through windows. One horrible night it killed and ate an entire family: the father, mother, and four children all under the age of ten. The Hempstocks they were called.”
Henry braced himself against the counter as she spoke. He clenched his jaw. His eyes flicked to her, but only for a second before he was compelled to look away. She wanted him to tell her that he had heard the story as well. Everyone in town knew the story. She wanted him to say that it was just a silly myth, a tall tale to frighten children.
“She said that night was the last straw. The men of the village gathered together. They got their guns and torches and set a trap. They chose the sweetest looking white lamb and broke its back legs. They brought it to the center of town and left it on the steps of city hall. It was bleating and crying as the men set their trap.
The wolf came, as they knew it would. At first, they tried to catch it in a trap, but it was too big and it broke through the ropes. But while it was struggling they came out with tar and torches and they burned it there in the center of the town. They thought their nightmare was over, but when the smoke cleared they did not see the body of a wolf, but that of-”
“A man,” he finished. He grimaced and gripped the countertop as he glared at her. “The body was too burned for anyone to figure out who it was.”
He stared at her. There was a challenge in his gaze.
Agatha opened her mouth. She was actually going to do this. She was going to ask if her incredibly hot boss was a Shapeshifter. She took a deep breath, but before she could speak the doorbell rang.
Without a word, Henry strode to the door and threw it open. His painfully stylish assistant was standing there with a clean suit on a hanger in one hand.
“Grazie,” he said as he grabbed the suit and walked to Agatha’s bathroom, closing the door behind him.
“Come in,” Agatha said to Letizia. She was six feet tall and all legs and voluminous hair. She always had the perfect blowout and her make-up always matched her shoes. Even now, after her boss had called her unexpectedly, it looked like she had spent hours getting ready.
With her arms crossed, Letizia entered the house and walked to the bathroom door, where she began to speak in hurried Italian. Occasionally Agatha could hear Henry responding from the other side, his voice growing angrier with every second that passed.
“What’s going on?” Agatha asked. She was starting to get annoyed. This was her house after all. She hadn’t invited Henry over. She had just found him, possibly post-transition, in her own backyard. Her questions were only growing. She needed someone to tell her that Werewolves weren’t real and never had been. They needed to tell her that there was no magic in the world, only science. She needed to hear that or she just might very well lose her mind.
“We’re very sorry to trouble you,” Letizia said through a thick accent. “We will be gone soon.”
At that moment, Henry exited the bathroom. He looked like his old self again. He was wearing a perfectly fitting black suit with a black tie which he straightened as he glanced at her. His dark black hair was smoothed down and styled to the side. He spoke quickly to Letizia who glared at Agatha in response.
“You shouldn’t stay here,” Henry said, his voice crisp and clean. He was the boss again, which was a shame, she had liked seeing him in her bathrobe. “It isn’t safe. Those animals could come back. I think you would be better at the Thompson Inn. I’ll have Letizia book you a room and don’t worry, I will cover all expenses.”
; “What?” Agatha demanded. “I’m not leaving my house. Wolves can’t get through doors. That was just a story my grandmother told to scare us. Unless there’s something else going on that I don’t know about.” Letizia and Henry shared a look.
Letizia opened her mouth to say something, but Henry cut her off with a raised hand. “Let’s go get some breakfast,” he said. “We can all think clearer with a full stomach.”
“I need to return to the house and prepare a few.... things,” Letizia said.
“We’ll drop you off on the way,” Henry said. “Come on,” he said to Agatha. He took her by the elbow and guided her outside. His voice and manners were so commanding, that Agatha offered no resistance as he led her out of her own house. There was a black town car sitting in her driveway next to her little red Ford. Once outside Henry was on high alert, his eyes scanning the tree line and the road as if he was expecting someone to be there.
He opened the back door and then Agatha felt his firm hand on the small of her back guiding her. A tingle went up her spine at his touch and she couldn’t look him in the eye once she was seated.
He drove with Letizia on the passenger side. She was speaking in rushed Italian and Agatha struggled to pick up on any familiar sounding words, but it was nothing but gibberish. He dropped Letizia off on Main Street and when she exited the car, Agatha got out as well.
“Where are you going?” Henry demanded. But Agatha was just moving to the front seat.
“You’re not my driver,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.
Chapter Four
They drove down Main Street, an awkward silence hanging between them. Agatha couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She wished she was dressed better. Her closet was filled with cute dresses and skirts, but instead, she was wearing a simple pair of tight jeans and a black t-shirt. Next to Henry, in his perfectly fitting, magically unwrinkled suit, she felt painfully bland and ugly.
She glanced up at him a few times, but his eyes never left the road. He was frowning and shaking his head as if he were having some internal argument with himself.
The Thompson Inn was over two hundred years old. The original building had burnt down in the thirties, but it had been rebuilt with gilded splendor. It was a large building with white colonnades and a wrap-around porch dotted with planters filled with brightly colorful flowers.
Henry parked the car and walked around to the other side to open the door for Agatha. She wasn’t sure what to make of that gesture. She had never met a man who opened her doors for her. Most of the guys she met had never heard of chivalry and her last relationship had ended after she realized that she was never going to get back the two thousand dollars she lent him.
Henry was taller than she was and she hurried to keep up with him as he took the steps two at a time into the Inn.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Crane,” a fawning waiter said, coming around from his stand to personally shake Henry’s hand while Agatha shifted from foot to foot. The waiter barely even glanced at her before he led them to a table near the window.
“Two coffees and waters,” Henry said as menus were placed before them.
“I’m not hungry,” Agatha said, not even bothering to open the menu. This was a lie, of course. She was famished. She hadn't eaten anything all day.
“Nonsense, you have to eat something. Two cheese omelets with rye toast and a side of fruit,” he ordered for the both of them.
“I don’t want food,” Agatha said in a heated whisper as she leaned across the table towards Henry. “I want to know why I found you naked in my backyard. And don’t try to give me that party boy nonsense because I don’t believe it.”
“Why don’t you believe it?” He asked as he unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap.
“Because you’re not a party boy,” Agatha continued. “You don’t go out to parties that leave you drunk and naked in people’s backyards. This is a small town, everyone knows everyone and everyone knows you.”
He sighed and looked out the window into the afternoon sunlight. There were gray clouds on the horizon. It would storm tonight.
She was going to do it. She was just going to straight up ask him. Was he a Werewolf? Did he transform into some mystical animal every time there was a full moon? Except, there wasn’t a full moon last night. There had been no moon out last night. So, then how did this all work?
Before she could speak, a look of shaking anger came over Henry. He gritted his teeth and a horrible frown took over his entire face.
“Don’t say anything,” he said to her, his voice terse and low.
“What do you mean?” But just as she had finished asking her question they were joined by a third party.
“Good day, brother,” a strange man said, as he sat down in an empty chair and reached across the table taking Agatha’s water glass and drinking it all in one sloppy gulp. The man was handsome, but in a completely different way than Henry. Henry had a strong jaw line and was always cleanly shaved, his dark hair was cut short and neatly styled to the side. But this stranger claiming to be his brother had a shaggy beard and his hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the top of his head. He was wearing a ripped shirt and skinny jeans. When he was finished with his drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Don’t call me brother,” Henry said in a low growl.
“Why not? That’s what we are. I’m Marcus by the way,” he said leaning over towards Agatha and giving her a rakish grin.
Agatha had no idea what to say. Henry Crane didn’t have a brother. Her head ping-ponged back and forth between the two men. How had this happened? How had she ended up in the middle of a Crane blood feud? This wasn’t her place. She was the help, an assistant. She was downstairs, they were upstairs.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” she said, regretting the words the moment they were out of her mouth. She wished she could have been more like Letizia, a tall and gorgeous woman who never put her foot in her mouth or embarrassed herself.
“Oh no,” Marcus said as he reached for a muffin that was sitting in a basket in the middle of the table. He broke it open, spreading crumbs all over the table. He shoved a piece in his mouth and kept talking. “Old dad was not that faithful a man. Everyone thought he was such a stand-up guy, a real pillar of the community. Behind closed doors, it was a different matter. My mother was a maid at the Crane’s house. How tacky,” he said, rolling his eyes, “a love child with the maid.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your own mother that way,” Agatha chided.
“My mother is a lazy drunk and I was the one that stuck with her for sixteen years, so I’ll talk about her however I want.” In one second, Marcus had gone from rogue to devil. He leered at her and reached for another muffin as he did.
“Agatha, why don’t you go upstairs so Marcus and I can talk,” Henry said.
“Get a room for the two of you, did you?” Marcus asked.
“No, I got a room for Agatha because it’s safer here.”
“Now, now brother,” Marcus said. “We both know that’s not true. If you want to keep her safe, you know what you need to do. Put her anywhere you want. I’ll still find her come nightfall.”
Chapter Five
“What?” Agatha asked. “What’s he saying? Why am I not safe? I don’t have anything to do with anything.”
“That is true,” Marcus said. “You are right. You have done nothing wrong. You are totally innocent. The only reason you’re in this mess is because those tits of yours have really caught my brother’s eye.”
“That’s enough,” Henry said as he stood up. Agatha could feel her face getting red. It couldn’t be possible. Henry was her boss, they had only spoken a handful of times and even then it was just about work. The only words he had ever said to her were “thank you” and “I need that by five”.
“Women always think that thinner equals better,” Marcus said to Agatha, ignoring Henry who was still standing over him. “But men want women who l
ook like women. Most men will take tits and ass over collarbones and ribs any day of the week.”
Henry grabbed Marcus by the collar and pulled him up. “Careful,” Marcus said. “You don’t want to start a fight here in the center of town. What would the little people say?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Henry said. Agatha had to silence a gasp. She had never heard Henry curse or even raise his voice. But now he was holding another man, his half-brother, by the collar. The waiter was hurrying over to them and Agatha was still sitting numbly in her chair, with no idea what she should do.
“Everything is fine,” Henry said to the waiter, as he let Marcus go. “He was just leaving.”
“Yes, of course. I’m leaving now,” Marcus said, putting his hands up in a show of mock defeat. “But I will see you tonight and I will get what I want.” His eyes flicked to Agatha and he gave her a wink before striding out of the restaurant.
“Sir, would you like me to call the police?” The waiter asked.
“No, but please tell the front desk not to let him in again.”
“Of course, Mr. Crane.”
Eggs, toast, and fruit sat in front of her untouched.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Henry said as he sat back down.
“What is going on?” Agatha demanded. “Is he really your half-brother? What does he want? Why..... me?”
“You should eat,” he said, ignoring her question as he lifted his fork and devoured some eggs.
“I’m not hungry,” Agatha said.
“Well, I’m starving. Let’s eat and then I’ll explain everything.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
They ate quickly, but it still felt like the longest fifteen minutes of Agatha’s life. Her brain was running around in circles. She had too many questions and no answers. She didn’t taste the food as she ate it. She just mechanically put the food into her mouth and watched Henry as he ate every last bite.