by Zoe Chant
Noah, traipsing in behind Mabs, yelled, "WOLFIE!" and the two of them ran outdoors, where, experience told Mabs, they would remain until one or both of them was too hungry to stay away anymore. She looked after them with a smile, then arched her eyebrows at Jake, who had ignored the commotion in favor of continuing to study the unrestored half of the house.
"I went fishing this morning. Didn't catch anything, so I came in and made chili. I was thinking I haven't done much with the dining room, but we've been eating at the kitchen table anyway, and the dining room is interior work I could deal with after it snows. I could get quite a bit of work done on the roof over here before then, though."
"Oh, thank goodness," Mabs said with feeling. Jake looked at her in surprise, and she waved her hands. "You went fishing. You did something that wasn't house-related. I'm afraid people are going to think I've got you tied to the place, or something. Judge Owens asked after you this morning and it made me feel like I was hoarding you."
Jake smiled. It crinkled the lines around his eyes, making them warm and inviting, and that smile was a kissable one if Mabs had ever seen one. Not that she needed to go around kissing anyone. Not that Jake wanted to be kissed. "I do get out," he promised.
"Dining out on your charm and good looks," Mabs said, "because God knows I'm not paying you."
His eyebrows rose, that kissable smile intensifying. "Do you think I'm charming and good-looking?"
Mabs made a noise that she could only describe as inappropriate, sort of like a 'heh' had gotten mixed up with a 'hrrr' and come out as a vocalized shorthand for oh hell yes! Jake's elevated eyebrows drew together in confusion. Mabs, feeling a blush coming on, squished her eyes shut, then sort of grimace-smiled at him. "You do all right, generally speaking."
"I'll take it." He returned his gaze to the walls. "So what do you think? New roof before winter?"
"Are there enough shingles? The judge wants to know if we're coming—if you're coming—to the Halloween thing this weekend." Mabs wrinkled her face again. She was about as smooth as a...a not-smooth thing.
"I think there are enough shingles," Jake said easily, but his eyebrows rose in amusement. "I don't know. Am I?"
"I don't know, are you? I mean, it's not dependent on me. Is it? I mean if it is you're definitely welcome to come with us, of course, that'd be great! I'd love that! Oh, but do you have a costume? Not that you need a costume. I guess grown-ups don't need costumes?" Mabs pressed her lips together, trying to stop the flow of idiotic questions.
"Who are you going as?"
"Wh-at?"
A little grin crept across Jake's mouth. "Who are you dressing as for Halloween?"
"Oh! Lady Loki."
"Loki is a lady now?"
"He is if I'm dressing as him!"
Jake's little grin became a laugh. "I guess that's fair enough. All right. Loki and Captain America, huh? I'll see what I can do. And I'll get started on the roof after the weekend, if you think I'm working too hard." His gaze flickered up again, blue eyes meeting hers, and Mabs thought she might just melt through the floor.
Except that would make a mess of all the hard work they'd done sanding the boards and relaying the runnerboards, so maybe not. "I'm sure you could use a few days off. You've been working pretty much non-stop since early September and it'll be Halloween in a couple days now."
"I've enjoyed every minute of it." He lifted his eyes, taking in the hall, then looked back down at her. "But I guess I've been in your hair, too. I hadn't thought you might want a few days in the house by yourse—"
"I don't," Mabs blurted, putting her hand on his forearm. "That wasn't what I meant at all. I just thought you might want to get out."
"I'm going to. On Saturday, with you. But I'm good, Mabs. There's not really anything in Virtue I want, so I'm fine out here, working on the house."
Man, she must be coming on like a freight train, for him to have to remind her of that again. Mabs dropped her hand, trying not to lose her smile, and said, "Great. Good. Glad to hear it. And cooking dinner, huh?"
Sudden worry creased his face. "I hope you don't mind. I like to, and I haven't gotten to cook for anybody else in ages."
"It's amazing enough to be surreal," Mabs assured him. "I just feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
The soft smile reappeared, making Mabs feel better, even if he'd put up clear stop signals. "I'll let you know if you are," he promised. "In the meantime, the garlic bread is probably just about done, if you want to eat."
"Oh, the garlic bread." Mabs rolled her eyes, although she hoped Jake understood she was delighted. "I suppose you made the bread from scratch, too."
"No! I bought baguettes in town and buttered and garlicked them!"
"Jake." Mabs shook her head. "I don't want to sound like a creeper, but that woman who dumped you? Was an idiot. Just so you know."
His eyebrows drew down again, an odd smile curving his mouth. "Thank you."
Mabs bumped her shoulder against his on her way into the kitchen. "Any time, big guy."
ELEVEN
Mabs Brannigan was gonna kill him without even trying. Without even knowing she was doing it. The way she touched his arm, the way she smiled at him, the simple sincerity with which she told him—in essence—that he was too good for the woman who'd dumped him...it was like he'd been meant to find her.
You were, his wolf said impatiently. I keep telling you that.
Maybe. I just don't want to go too fast. There could be things I'm not seeing.
There's a cub! There's a mate! There's a den! What else do you need to see? His wolf sent an image of a love-struck pup, mooning over a pretty wolf.
Jake had been getting a lot of that image over the past three days. It wasn't his fault he couldn't wipe the memory of Mabs's touch from his mind, or thoughts of how good it would feel to have her small soft hands in other places on his body. Or maybe it was his fault. Maybe if he tried harder, he could think about other things.
But he was enjoying those thoughts so much, he didn't want to. He liked being around the house, cooking, working, and—it seemed—throwing together a last-minute Halloween costume so he wouldn't be shown up by Mabs and her son at the Virtue fair.
The thing was, he knew Mabs had stayed up late making both her own and Noah's costumes. Wearing something store-bought seemed cheating, in the face of that, so Jake disappeared to Sarah's house for three days, promising Mabs he'd meet them at the fair on Saturday morning.
Sarah, looking like the cat who'd stolen the cream, didn't object even once to his haranguing her for help. Carpentry, he could do; sewing machines were most of the way out of his league, since he hadn't used one since junior high home economics class. He didn't even think they had home ec classes anymore.
Friday evening, Sarah, looking over his handiwork, said, "You're irritatingly good at that, you know?" and Jake shrugged, pleased.
"It's like carpentry."
"It's nothing like carpentry."
"It is, in the sense that what matters is that if it's important to you to do a good job, you will."
"Yeah," Sarah said, somewhere between reluctant and impressed. "I guess that makes sense. I think she'll like it."
"I hope so."
Sarah gave him a sly look that he remembered from high school, and went off without saying anything, which was infinitely worse than her making a snide comment. His wolf, baffled, said, It is ? and Jake groaned.
Yeah, it is.
Why?
Because if she said something I could defend myself, and instead she's just going around being smug because she thinks she's right. Jake bent his head over the costume, working on details, while his wolf asked, Right about what?
About her belief I'm doing this to make Mabs happy.
But you are!
That's why she's smug!
His wolf said, I don't understand humans, and went to sleep.
"That's okay," Jake murmured with a sigh. "I'm not sure I do either."
* *
*
The next morning, around eleven a.m. under a crisp blue autumn sky, Jake decided it was just as well that he'd been at Sarah's house for a few days, because he thought if he'd seen Mabs in her Loki costume at her house, he might have thrown all caution to the wind and never let her go.
She wasn't tall. She would never be tall, but she'd somehow added at least three inches of height while also not looking as though her feet were bent into painfully high heels. Platform boots, he guessed, but honestly, his attention wasn't really on the boots. It was on where the boots met green leggings and rose up, fitting every bit as well as he'd imagined a spandex superhero suit would on her, to a golden belt that rode low on her hips and pointed down as if suggesting where she'd like him to direct his attention.
And it got better, because it kept fitting just as snugly through her small waist and up to her breasts, which were framed in a slightly complicated neckline, before a golden fleece of some kind fell from her shoulders, every motion revealing the long sleeves that fitted all the way to her first knuckles. She wore her purple hair loose, held away from her face by a smaller version of the golden, horned tiara that had been on the t-shirt she'd worn the first day he met her.
That, he thought, swallowing on a dry throat, was absolutely a goddess, and he was prepared to worship at her feet.
Noah, splendidly turned out in a miniature Cap costume, yelled, "Mr. Grooooowwwwlllyyy!" and came running across the Virtue town square with his little shield in front of him, like he'd knock everyone and everything out of his way. It more or less worked, too, in the sense that people did dance out of the way of an adorable little superhero running full tilt toward them. Jake caught the kid and swung him into the air, laughing, then lifted him onto his shoulders. "Good to see you, Captain."
"Mom's over there!" Noah pointed imperiously, and Jake made his way toward Mabs. She met them halfway, gazing up at Jake with what he felt could accurately be described as starry eyes. "Mom!" Noah bellowed, "Look! I found Mr. Growly! He's THOR!"
"So I see." Mabs'sgrin was huge. "You look amazing, Jake. You put that together in three days?"
"See, I have other skills besides carpentry. And Sarah helped. A lot." Jake, grinning, put Noah down and spun like a fashion model, making a red cloak flare dramatically. The detail of his bare-armed costume had nothing on the work Mabs had put in on hers, but it was obviously enough to get the idea across, even to a four-year-old. "I'm glad you approve. You look incredible, Mabs."
"I'm not sure I can believe I'm running around in an outfit made entire of spandex," she confessed. "I don't know what I was thinking."
"Um. That, with all due respect, you have a rockin' bod and should own it?"
"Oh." Her smile slid all over the place, embarrassed and pleased and shy and delighted. "Thanks. And look at you and those biceps, Jake, Jesus, I shouldn't be letting you wear a shirt around the house." Horror flashed across her face. "With all due respect."
"I'd get so many splinters without one," he said apologetically, and she laughed while he considered the possibility of working without a shirt anyway. He wasn't likely to get cold, and if Mabs was inclined to enjoy that kind of thing.... "Hm?" She'd said something he hadn't quite heard.
"Why Thor?"
"Oh, well, I've seen how much trouble Cap gets into. I thought having two gods on hand to keep an eye on him would be helpful."
Mabs laughed. "It might be almost enough. Speaking of which...." She darted off across the town square, chasing Noah, who had seen something more exciting than his mom talking to 'Mr. Growly.' Of course, to a kid his age, motes of dust dancing on the sunlight counted as more fun than adults chatting.
Jake, though, could have stood there talking to—and gazing at—Mabs all day long. All day, all week, all month, all year, all—always.
His wolf sniffed. You should tell her that.
I don't know if she wants to hear it. If she doesn't.... He couldn't quite let himself finish the thought. Last time I thought I wanted to tell someone, it...didn't work.
Nothing will work if you don't let it. His wolf bared its teeth, then snapped at the air, herding Jake after the Brannigans, as if that was commentary enough.
And maybe it was.
TWELVE
Every time Mabs looked at Jake through the whole afternoon, she grinned, and she looked at him a lot. More, probably, than she really should, but she liked smiling and she liked biceps and she liked short-cropped hair slicked back at the temples to pretend it was even shorter than it was, and she liked long legs in tight-fitting...jeans, probably, she hadn't really looked that carefully, to be honest...and she liked red cloaks and she definitely liked that whole package casually carrying her kid around on its shoulders like he belonged there.
She had, she concluded, an absolutely hopeless crush on Jake Rowly. But she guessed there were worse fates than dorking around after a gorgeous guy, so that was okay. He turned out to be surprisingly good at carnival-style games, and had won Noah a stuffed dragon four feet tall at the shoulder. He'd offered to win one for Mabs, too, but she refused, laughing, on the logic that their house was full of strange enough stuff as it was. "Next year," she said, "after the attic's cleaned out."
"It's a date," he promised, which made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, even if she couldn't quite believe he'd be around for another year. She had let him buy her a cotton candy roughly the size of her torso, and kept giggling over how it disappeared with each bite. "I haven't had cotton candy since I was about Noah's age. You've got to eat some, I can't possibly eat it all. Or worse, I can, and then I'll explode out of this costume."
"You've seen that video of the cotton candy eating contest?" Jake asked, and when she shook her head, grinned broadly. "Google it, it's funny." He took some of the candy, though, and Noah took a lot of it, and by the time they got to the caramel apples Mabs thought maybe she should try one.
Jake refused, shaking his head. "I like the idea of them but then I end up with caramel in my ear and apple up my nose or something, so it's not really worth it. Old Ms. Brannigan used to make caramel apple butter, though. It was like all the promise of caramel apples with none of the disappointment."
"I have no idea what apple butter is, but that sounds amazing."
"I bet somebody around here makes it." They went around the fair, buying little jars of jams. and boxes of treats while Noah rode on what Mabs thought was the world's smallest Ferris wheel, followed by an equally small merry-go-round. He thought they were both the best, and begged to go on them again and again, even showing amazing patience for standing in line repeatedly. After the third go-around, Mabs put her foot down and got a sulky child in response, for the whole two minutes up until he discovered a hot dog stand and convinced his mommy to buy him one.
By the time he'd eaten most of it, Noah was staggering with exhaustion, and they hadn't, technically, even done any trick-or-treating. Jake murmured, "I'll carry him," and picked the little boy up easily, carting him around to the houses nearest the square, where Halloween decorations and blazing lights indicated a willingness to participate in the festivities. It only took about a block to fill the little orange plastic pumpkin they'd brought for goodies, and Noah perked up enough to eat three candy bars and an orange on the way home.
Mabs carried him up to bed and came back down without her murder tiara to find Jake making omelets in the kitchen. He glanced at her with a smile and said, "I figured some protein would be good for us after all that sugar."
"I would have gone to bed without any food. Thank you." Mabs lifted her eyebrows, smiling. "For everything. We had a wonderful day. I had a wonderful day."
"And Judge Owens no longer thinks you're holding me prisoner."
Mabs laughed. "Right." They'd seen the judge, and most of Virtue, in the square that afternoon. Mabs had been shyly delighted that as many people seemed to recognize and want to chat with her, as did with Jake, although not particularly thrilled to notice Preston Cole giving her the stink-eye from across the
fair. "Want some toast?"
"If you put some of the new blackberry jam on it."
"Oooh, he drives a hard bargain." Mabs went to make toast while Jake finished the omelets and they sat at the table, silent with hunger except for when, a couple of bites in, Mabs gave an appreciative groan that made Jake smile. Even the toast seemed ridiculously good, and she pushed the plate away reluctantly when she was finished. "Where'd you come from, anyway, Jake Rowly?"
"Well..." He made a show of looking around, then pointed with his chin. "A few miles that-a-way, if you want to be particular about it. I'll show you our old house sometime. It's full of the mistakes I made learning the trade."
"Do you wish your parents hadn't sold it?"
"I don't think they would have, if any of us had imagined I'd come back to Virtue, but it's water under the bridge." He rose to do dishes, and Mabs, a little star-struck by men who did dishes, just let him, without getting up to help. It wasn't her fault the view was spectacularly good. "I thought I'd get up on the roof tomorrow and have a look around at its condition."
"Oh." Mabs straightened, suddenly feeling nervous. "I went out to the barn to look at the shingles and did some calculations. There's enough for the buttery wing roof, but not for the big one, so I was thinking we—you," she corrected herself sheepishly— "should maybe do the buttery wing, which would keep the rest of this part of the house warmer, 'cause there's the open door through to there, and we could do the big roof next year? After I've won the lottery or something and bought more shingles?"
"You think?" Jake rocked back on his heels, glancing toward the buttery. "All right, if that's what you want to do, I'm in."
For a moment Mabs didn't know how to respond. She trusted herself. She did. Mostly, she did. But when it came to making big suggestions, she realized she still expected to be mocked about it. Teased for not thinking things through, or making the wrong choices. Treated the way Noah's father had treated her, in other words. Making her doubt her own wisdom.