Truth was, nothing was that fun to do alone. Except reading, which she already did constantly. She sighed. The library was another place she’d be considered a regular if the librarians could remember her.
She turned onto Beech Lane, which would take her home to Crab Apple Court. At least she had a library card. That was about as close as she’d come to belonging to anything in the last ten years.
The library had all kinds of classes in the community room, too. Painting, art appreciation, writing workshops, history talks, even a self-defense class. But attending any of those would mean having to introduce herself over and over and over again.
It got old. Ginny only had so much patience for it anymore. And most of that was reserved for visits to Aunt Gwen and the staff at the Emerald Manor who never remembered her either.
That lack of patience worried her. Especially when she thought about her life in another year. Or five. Or ten.
How was she going to get through more of this same existence? Maybe it was time to step up her efforts to find the book in the enchanted forest. Which meant more running through the woods alone. And more lying to Aunt Gwen about it.
She shook her head as she turned onto Crab Apple Court. Something had to change and soon or—there was a rental truck in front of the McKinleys’ old place.
Had someone bought it? They must have.
Well, that was a bummer. That meant the McKinleys’ pool was now closed to her. Getting her own pool wasn’t in the budget. Maybe someday, but being able to use theirs for the last couple of months had made her want one even more. Mostly, she swam in her human form, but sometimes she went in as her wolfy self, something she felt odd about doing at the lake. And would never dare do at the community pool.
She sighed. She’d really gotten used to using the pool whenever she wanted. Except for Tuesdays. That’s when their pool service came.
The McKinleys were nice people, but she wasn’t sure they’d have granted her such access. Wolf hair in the filter had to be a drag, but hey, that’s what they were paying a cleaning service for, right?
They were wolves, too, so it wasn’t like hairballs in the skimmer were a new thing.
They’d moved out after their son, Ryan, had outgrown his curse on his sixteenth birthday, the lucky dog. Poor Ryan had been unable to shift into his true form. He’d managed a tail a few times, and ears and a snout once or twice, but it wasn’t until the full moon a week after his sixteenth birthday that he’d gone complete wolf.
His parents had been overjoyed and had promptly moved back to Iowa and their home pack.
She got it. She would have done the same. She didn’t have a home pack, not since moving to Shadowvale. Growing up, she’d run with Aunt Gwen’s pack, becoming a member as soon as she was old enough. But there’d been college and Aunt Gwen’s stroke, and a lot of old ties had been severed due to distance and the constraints of life.
Now she and Aunt Gwen just went for runs together whenever they could, which meant on Aunt Gwen’s good days. So not as much as Ginny would have liked.
It was okay, though. Any sacrifices she had to make for Aunt Gwen were no big deal.
Despite losing her parents so young, Ginny had still had a happy childhood. All thanks to Aunt Gwen, who’d put her own life on hold to make sure Ginny had everything she needed.
Which was why Ginny would take care of that woman until her dying day, something that hopefully was a long ways off.
But all this time without a pack had a way of leaving a person isolated, no matter what the reasons.
She parked in her driveway and got out of the car, still looking at the moving truck. Maybe this new family would have kids, too. Good kids, though. Not the kind that turned into wolves and ran through the neighborhood, peeing on people’s fences. She glanced down the street at the house that sat on the corner of Beech and Crab Apple and narrowed her eyes.
Those Freeman kids needed a good swat with a newspaper.
Her attention returned to the rental truck. The back was open. Looked like it had been about half-emptied. Most of what remained was in boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. There was an empty flatbed trailer, too. Maybe it had had bikes on it. Or a golf cart.
Those were becoming more popular in Shadowvale these days.
She rolled her eyes. Aunt Gwen would laugh at that. But she’d probably get a kick out of riding in one, too. Maybe Ginny could rent one for a day out. That might be a fun thing to do.
Enough looking. She went inside, her stomach grumbling. She should have gotten herself something at the bakery. Instead, she dug around in her fridge for leftovers that could be turned into lunch.
Penne Alfredo with chicken and broccoli from last night’s dinner went into the microwave to heat up. While that was happening, she went back into the living room to check on her goldfish. She was pretty sure they didn’t remember anyone or anything.
Except for feeding time.
She waved at them. “Hi, guys.” Bob, Comet, and Sparky swam to the surface in hopes of flakes. “Sorry, you got fed this morning. I guess you don’t remember that.”
Everyone had their burden.
When her food was ready, she’d take her bowl into her office and answer emails while she ate, then get started on that logo or the new product graphics. That was the exciting life she lived.
Maybe later, she’d go see what the new neighbors were up to.
The microwave dinged, and almost simultaneously a soft, metallic thunk came from outside. The rental truck’s door maybe? She went to get her food, grabbing a can of pop on her way out of the kitchen.
A low, throaty rumble vibrated through the house. She frowned. What was that?
An engine. But what kind of car made a sound like that? It was coming from the McKinleys’ former home. She put her meal down and ran to the front of the house to look out the window. A man in a T-shirt, jeans, and full helmet was pulling out of the McKinleys’ garage. Well, his garage now.
The bike was a swirly, metallic, sparkly black where it wasn’t leather or chrome. The motor snarled like a wild animal, and as he adjusted something on his helmet, she became well aware that, even from the back, this wasn’t just any man.
This was hotness. In the most tantalizing male form she’d ever seen.
Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed in an effort to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. His jeans were…very tight. Molded to him, really. Which made it hard not to look at his backside. His T-shirt was just as tight, frankly, showing off a trim waist and broad shoulders. She rubbed her lips together. Maybe he’d recently grown all those muscles, and nothing fit him anymore.
Actually, his clothes fit him just fine.
Just. Fine.
A few tattoos peeked out from his sleeves. Nothing she could make out. An insignia of some kind, maybe.
She hoped he wasn’t a Hells Angel or something like that. This wasn’t that kind of neighborhood. Or that kind of town.
Of course, if he was, maybe he could talk to those Freeman boys for her. She grinned. “Hello, Mr. Neighbor.”
Helmet secured, he put his feet on the bike, revved the engine, and went off down the road.
Ginny watched him until there was nothing left to see. Then, still smiling, she went back to her lunch.
Until she knew more about him, she wouldn’t really be able to say, but this new neighbor might be worth giving up her pool time for. Although now that he was out of the house, this might be her last chance for one final swim.
He’d probably gone to eat lunch. Made sense. He wouldn’t have food in the house yet. That should buy her at least forty minutes. Maybe an hour.
The impulse to do something crazy struck her. At least this was safer than robbing a bank.
With great haste, she stuck her plate of food and her can of pop back into the fridge and ran to her bedroom to change into swimming attire.
She had exactly three bathing suits. The first was for visits to the lake or occasionally the Shadowvale commu
nity center’s public pool, which she tended to avoid because of her curse and all that entailed, despite having a membership card. The suit was a rather sedate one-piece navy blue number with three bands of gold braid at the waist. Classy, nautical, and not the least bit naughty.
The second was a tiny hot-pink string bikini bought on a whim and used once on a trip to Nightingale Park, where she’d lain out for twenty minutes, then gotten cold feet, put her cover-up back on, and gone home. Now she just used it to lay out on her own back deck. It was naughty and then some.
The third was a cute, retro-styled two-piece in red and white polka dots.
Her comfort suit. A little sexy, but still covering her up. Sadly, one of the straps was hanging on by a thread and needed to be sewn back on before it could be worn. She really needed to do that tonight.
The navy suit would have been her second choice, but she’d gotten spaghetti sauce on it two nights ago, and it was still sitting in the laundry basket. She’d known better than to eat dinner while wearing it, but she’d come back starving from an evening swim at the McKinleys’.
Which left the hot-pink suit.
She bit her bottom lip. Crumpled up, the entire suit fit in the palm of her hand. What had she been thinking when she’d bought it? It wasn’t her at all.
What she’d been thinking was why not? No one was going to remember her anyway. It was the same principle behind the days she sometimes wore a gown from her vast collection of bridesmaid dresses to the Green Grocer or the library. (Her curse had struck her at the age of twenty-six, the previous two years being when every single one of her college friends had decided to get married and include her in the wedding party.)
So what was she worried about? Even if anyone saw her, they weren’t going to remember.
She shucked her clothes, tied the suit on, grabbed a towel, and snuck through the tree line that separated her backyard from the McKinleys’. Or what’s-his-name’s.
With a smile, she tossed her towel aside, then stood at the edge of the pool, put her hands together, and dived in. The water was gloriously refreshing. She surfaced, blissful, but bummed that these stolen moments were coming to an end.
She swam laps. Butterfly, backstroke, front crawl. They all made her happy. She really should get her own pool, but that would be so expensive. Too bad the community pool was always so busy.
Thankfully, she could still swim with Seymour.
At last, she slowed. Treading water, she studied the back of the house. Too bad her curse meant she couldn’t make friends with the new guy and talk him into letting her swim.
A thought hit her so hard she started to sink. What if he was married? Or had a girlfriend? And his significant other was home right now? Ginny was shocked she’d been so dumb as to not consider that sooner. Getting caught in the new neighbor’s pool in this swimsuit by his female companion wasn’t going to make a great first impression.
For once, her curse might not be so bad.
Then the low, throaty rumble she’d heard earlier resonated through the neighborhood.
It no longer mattered if he had a wife or a girlfriend in the house, because the motorcycle man himself was home.
Crap.
Ginny swam for the side, heart thumping, and grabbed hold of the edge. As she pulled herself up, one of the bathing suit’s strings on the top caught under her hand.
The movement of pushing up untied the top of her suit. Somehow, she made it to her feet in time to clamp her hands down over her chest to keep the suit in place.
With a firm grip on the girls, she ran for the tree line, hoping against all hope that she’d avoided detection. If that was possible for a half-naked, dripping-wet woman wearing a few tiny triangles of Day-Glo pink.
In what was probably mere seconds later (but seemed like an eternity), she finally stood in her own kitchen, breathing hard and dripping contraband pool water onto the tile.
“Dumb, Ginny. Really dumb.” She exhaled. “Well, even if he did see me, he won’t remember.”
Except…she’d left her towel.
Chapter Four
Easy found his way to the grocery store via GPS. Looked like a nice one, too, judging by the produce and the meat department. As a carnivore, he measured a supermarket by its butcher, with the produce section coming in second. Mostly because of his love for potatoes. Because what went better with steak? Fried, baked, au gratin, mashed, boiled…however they were served, he’d eat them.
The Green Grocer was no slouch in either the meat or produce areas. Maybe because of the wide variety of shifters who lived in town, but the glass butcher cases were stocked full of all varieties and cuts of meat. The seafood department was the same way, and for him, a big salmon or trout fillet was right up there with a ribeye any day.
He couldn’t carry much on his motorcycle, so stocking his place would have to wait until his car arrived, but he got enough steaks and fish for a few meals.
He picked up a few other things, including a bag of baking potatoes and some butter. And, because it was one of his favorite things, a gallon of ice cream. He chose caramel cookie crunch this time, but he wasn’t stuck on any one flavor. However the mood moved him, he went. Ice cream was his one real vice, but thankfully, his metabolism could handle it.
The last thing he grabbed was a large Italian hoagie from the deli. It would make for an easy lunch on a day he really didn’t feel like cooking.
He paid, bought two reusable bags for his stuff, then managed to fit it all in the storage well on his bike.
The first time he’d been to Shadowvale, he’d mostly house-shopped. There was still a lot more of the town to discover. But as much as he would have loved to tool through town to check things out, the ice cream didn’t really allow for that. Nor did the fact that he still had a lot of unpacking to do.
That had to come first. Nothing else was going to get done until he was settled.
Home it was. Home. Huh. He put his helmet on. Funny to think of this new place as home. It didn’t really feel that way. Not yet. Probably wouldn’t take too long, though. He’d never been overly attached to any one spot.
Maybe after a few more hours of unpacking, he’d see what that pool was all about. He’d already contracted the same company as the previous owners to keep up with the cleaning. That was another task he had no interest in taking on.
The backyard had a small summer kitchen, too. The grill that was part of it was going to get a lot of use, starting tonight. He was definitely throwing some steaks on there for dinner.
He smiled. Maybe living in the country wasn’t going to be such a bad thing. His condo in the city was pretty low on amenities compared to his new house.
As he drove home, he saw a few interesting characters, but also noticed that quite a few pedestrians turned to look as he went by. It was the bike, not him, he knew that. Shadowvale either didn’t have a lot of motorcyclists, or those it did have weren’t on bikes this loud.
Maybe time to put new baffling in the muffler. He liked the rumble, but in a small town, it might not be as appreciated. And he didn’t want to be known as the noisy biker. That was no way to make a first impression.
As he pulled into his driveway, his peripheral vision caught the strangest thing. A streak of bright pink and a whole lot of tantalizing female flesh.
He parked, put the kickstand down, and took his helmet off. He knew what he thought he’d seen. The curves of a gorgeous brunette in a barely there bikini running away from his house. While…holding on to her chest?
But there was no logical explanation for that. Was there? He ran a hand through his hair to comb it into place after the helmet, then frowned. Maybe the lightning strike was starting to affect his brain. First, he’d seen a guy in town with horns, then this woman. He supposed anything was possible after the Saver’s Club incident.
He sighed, feeling less than optimistic about his future. He had to find a cure for this stupid thing before it was too late.
He popped open the stora
ge well, got his grocery bags out, and went inside to put everything away. The house was a chaotic mess of boxes and random furniture, and he didn’t feel like being in the midst of all that, so he took his hoagie and went outside to sit on the front steps and eat.
The day was warm despite the softly overcast sky, and everything had a golden glow to it, like the sun might come through at any moment, but he knew from what his realtor had told him that that wasn’t going to happen.
She had assured him there was never any sun below the twilight line. Pam said that was just how the town functioned. She’d offered to show him houses above that line, but he liked being closer to the action of downtown. Such as it was.
She’d also told him about a place called Nightingale Park, which was apparently where a lot of people went to soak up the sun. Maybe he’d check that out in a day or two. Getting used to no sun was going to be a change.
He kind of thought she’d been angling for him to take her there, and she was cute enough, but he wasn’t interested in dating. Not with all of his baggage.
The hoagie was good. Not like those from the place he usually got sandwiches in the city, but it held its own.
He’d be happy here. He hoped. But the way his mind was changing gave him concern. At what point did he need help? Would there come a time when he couldn’t manage things on his own? He was a young guy. Still two years from forty. And in good health.
Other than the problems from the lightning strike.
He finished the hoagie, wadded up the wrapper to throw away when he had a trash can, and went back to work unloading the rest of the truck, happy for the distraction from his thoughts.
He was carrying two barstools to the kitchen counter when he stopped and looked longingly at the pool. He tucked the stools under the counter. He’d sweated through his T-shirt half an hour ago. But if he stopped now to swim, he wasn’t going to feel like finishing the rest of the unpacking.
The Forgettable Miss French (Shadowvale Book 3) Page 3