Sara's Moon (Moons of Mystery Book 1)

by S Bolanos

  “I need a drink.” What I needed was to drown out the realization that someone—no, something—had been following me for heaven only knew how long, while I mindlessly went about my life.

  Soon enough, a tall glass that smelled strongly of whiskey replaced the forgotten mug. I downed the whole thing, grimacing at the burn that spread like fire across my chest. An attempt to talk turned into a cough. I took a fortifying breath and tried again.

  “If he knows where I work, then why hasn’t he attacked me there?” Ice rattled in the now empty glass.

  “The office is too public.”

  I refused to mention that the parking garage was substantially less so or that there were literally a thousand other places he could’ve pounced. “Why hasn’t he followed me here?” I asked. How safe am I really?

  “He’s probably working on it and even then, I’m a fully grown, male wolf, he won’t want those odds. He’s a coward,” Michael spat.

  “You don’t know that!” My cup shattered against the wall in an explosion of ice and glass. Michael’s gaze never left me, he didn’t even flinch.

  “Sara, it’s okay, you’re safe here. I won’t let him hurt you,” he said as he reached out for me.

  I flung up an arm to ward him off. “No, Michael, you don’t know that it’s safe and it’s too late for you to be making promises about not letting him hurt me. It’s too late,” I sobbed, finally losing the battle to keep it together.

  He reached out again. This time he succeeded in wrapping me in his arms, which despite my earlier claim, did feel safe. Unable to muster the energy to push him away, I collapsed into the embrace and cried out my fear in body wracking sobs.

  I didn’t remember Michael carrying me to his room, but that’s where I woke when he came to tell me that it was time to get ready for work.

  13

  The Date Debate

  I’m just going to tell Charline we’re seeing each other. The visual part is true enough, even if the romantic involvement isn’t.

  Oh god, she’s going to ask questions. She’ll want details…and feelings.

  I groaned. While I had plenty of both, none of them were liable to help the situation. Michael was my self-imposed guard dog and no amount of wishful thinking was going to change that.

  What if she ferrets out the truth anyway?

  My stomach sank even further if that was possible. At this rate it was going to be sitting beneath my office chair.

  What am I going to do? I have to tell her something.

  The distinct aroma of baking wafted into my cubicle. I glanced up with a plastered smile on my face that immediately slipped when my gaze landed on my friend. Red rimmed puffy eyes that didn’t hold a stitch of makeup, and equally colored a nose that looked like it had been rubbed raw.

  “Charline, what’s happened?” I gasped.

  “Oh, Sara,” she sobbed, “It’s Ted. I think he’s…he’s…” She paused to blow into a wrung-out tissue. “I think he’s cheating on me,” she finally finished.

  “That’s not possible.” She sniffled, though her watery gaze refused to leave the floor. “Charline, he couldn’t. This is Ted we’re talking about.” I stood and wrapped her in a tentative hug.

  “That’s what I said!” she wailed, pulling away. “But then there was that bitch Stacy.”

  “Who?” I asked, at a loss, passing her a fresh tissue.

  “The blonde one in Accounting,” she spat before giving her nose another good blow.

  “Oh. Right,” I responded, still clueless.

  “She said that Ted was always hitting on her and trying to get her to go out with him and that one of these days she might even say yes, because she’d ‘heard things.’”

  “What sorts of things?” I asked.

  “I don’t know! I didn’t ask. I just ran. It took everything I had to make it to the bathroom, and I barely did at that.” She blew her nose again which was starting to resemble a very large cherry.

  “You don’t really believe her, do you, Charline?”

  She sniffled.

  “Come on, you know Ted better than anybody,” I tried again with no better results. “Charline, he wouldn’t do something like that to you.” I paused to give her a chance to say something. When she didn’t, I went a different route. “You know what you need to do?”

  She looked up, bleary-eyed but hopeful.

  “You need to talk to him, straighten this whole thing out,” I said with all of the optimism I could muster.

  “Sara, I can’t. It’s so embarrassing.” She stood there wringing her hands now that the tissue was completely disintegrated.

  “Yes, you can.” Her eyes widened at my tone, but she didn’t dispute the assertion. I met her uncertain gaze and softened my voice. “I’m sure he’ll understand, Charline. Give him a chance to clear this whole mess up.”

  She nodded almost imperceptibly. It was progress—not a lot—but progress.

  “Besides,” I said, “she probably said those things to be vindictive, because she’s jealous of you.” I patted her on the shoulder for added reassurance.

  Whoever this Stacy is should be counting her lucky stars that Charline is too busy being out of sorts to take her out back and beat her.

  “You really think so?” Charline asked with barely a quaver.

  “Of course, I do. Now you go get cleaned up and don’t worry anymore about it until you talk with Ted.” I was dubious whether or not she’d take the advice given her current state, but somehow that shallow reassurance seemed to satisfy her.

  “You’re right,” she said, straightening up. “I’m sure Ted can explain why she would say such things.”

  I nodded in agreement though I seriously doubted it and helped her on her way, giving her one last hopeful smile before she left. She never even noticed Michael walking past.

  Michael’s perplexed gaze followed her until she turned a corner and vanished from sight. “What’s up with her? She’s a mess,” he said, turning back to me.

  I narrowed my eyes and scowled at him. “She thinks Ted might be cheating on her with some blonde in Accounting.” My heart went out to Charline. She had the worst luck with men. While Ted may not have been my personal favorite, he’d stuck around the longest.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  I punched him in the arm.

  “What? He’s the kind of man that wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him on the nose,” he responded defensively as he rubbed his arm.

  “You don’t like him, do you?”

  “No, I generally try to avoid him. He looks like a weasel and I bet he smells like one too. Given some of the rumors I’ve heard about how he treats people in his department, I’m astounded that Charline gave him the time of day.”

  I shook my head. Michael was right, Ted did kind of resemble a weasel, and my one chance to test the smell theory hadn’t worked out. But if I had to guess, I suspected Michael was right about that as well.

  “Charline always said those were rumors. Considering her tenacity in acquiring gossip, I believed her, though I confess I’ve never really liked him either.”

  “She needs someone who can keep up with her,” Michael added.

  I nodded in agreement. “Perhaps I should have said something sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Michael asked, his forehead creasing in a sudden frown.

  I shrugged. “I never really thought it was my place. It wasn’t like I was dating him. She is her own woman and has a right to date whoever she wants.”

  “But she’s your friend. Friends are supposed to look out for one another. That includes if you think your friend is dating a jerk,” Michael pointed out.

  I stared at him in shock, then groaned. “I’m the worst friend ever.”

  “I don’t know about the worst,” Michael teased.

  “Don’t make fun of me. My best friend has been dating someone I totally thought wasn’t good enough for her and I never said a word. Now she’s heartbroken and miserable. And
you know what?” Michael raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry. “He’s probably out chasing tail on the side,” I spat.

  “And the wolf-isms come out,” he laughed. I clapped a hand over my mouth and groaned again. “Don’t be like that, it was bound to happen eventually.”

  I dropped my hand. “Well at least I didn’t do what I was planning to do when I saw her next,” I said.

  “Which was what?” Michael asked, leaning on the cubicle wall.

  “I was going to tell her that we’re seeing each other, to stave off the inevitable whispers, but I didn’t have the heart.”

  “You should have told her anyway. It probably would have cheered her up a little.”

  I threw my head back. “I really am the worst friend.”

  “You’re here for her now and that’s what really counts,” Michael reassured me.

  I looked down to where his hand was gently massaging my shoulder. “So, what are you here for? Don’t I see you enough?” I asked as I took a step away from the contact and pretended to order some files.

  “I was curious where you wanted to go for lunch today. Unless you think you should have lunch with Charline instead.”

  “No, she’s planning to talk to Ted. Knowing her, she won’t wait until after work. So unless she pops back by to say otherwise, I’m all yours,” I said, flopping back into my chair.

  “I like the sound of that,” Michael said with a wicked grin.

  I stared into the mirror and smoothed the purple fabric that wasn’t in any way wrinkled. The satin underlay clung to every minuscule dip and curve my body possessed, giving the illusion of a figure.

  This thing is barely more than a nightgown.

  I thought wistfully of a red dress tucked away in my closet. While it was a daring crimson, it wasn’t nearly so revealing.

  I don’t know what I’m stressing about. It’s not like this is a for-real date, no matter what Michael says.

  After one last self-conscious brush of fabric over my hips, I retreated to the guest room.

  This is ridiculous. I’m changing into jeans. I never should have let Charline talk me into buying this stupid dress in the first place.

  Guilt washed through me. I considered calling her and following Michael’s advice to tell her about us. Given her situation with Ted though, I couldn’t bear to bring up anything resembling a relationship with her, even if it was a fake one. A low whistle that reminded me of a cartoon caricature cut through my rambling thoughts.

  “Don’t patronize me,” I said, slipping on the last heel. I wouldn’t have bothered at all, except the dress would have looked even more ridiculous in anything less.

  “Who’s patronizing? You look good enough to eat,” he said as his eyes roved over me from head to toe.

  I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and tried not to think about how many girls had tumbled into his bed from that look alone. After a deep breath, I raised my gaze up to meet his and ignored my pounding heart. Unsurprisingly, he looked incredible in a deep green button down and slate gray slacks.

  “If you're going to tell wolf jokes all night, then I’m staying here,” I challenged.

  “I suppose I can keep the others to myself,” he said with a chuckle. “But you really do look amazing.”

  “Is there anything to eat before we go? I’m famished,” I added, ignoring the compliment.

  “I thought you might be.” He gave me another quick once over before leading the way to the kitchen.

  I shook my head, thankful for the excuse of food, and followed after him. As I entered the living room, he scooped up a platter from the counter and spun around to face me with what proved to be an enormous plate of pigs-in-a-blanket. I narrowed my eyes at him as he worked diligently to suppress a smile.

  “Would you believe me if I told you it was all I had?”

  “No. And it really is a shame that I’m allergic to sausage,” I replied sadly as I delicately poked at the horrific pun.

  His smile faded. “Wha—?”

  I took advantage of his distraction and shoved three pigs in his mouth. Laughter burst out of me at the look of astonishment on his face. My breath came out in a wheeze as I clutched my sides. He chewed vigorously and swallowed, then promptly threw one at me. I caught it out of the air and popped it in my mouth.

  “Nice,” Michael exaggerated.

  “Shut it. Now how about you take your bad jokes, sit that down, and share,” I said, walking over to the peninsula.

  “My jokes aren’t bad, just unappreciated,” he grumbled.

  “We wouldn’t be going another fancy-schmancy place where I’m liable to make a scene, would we?” I asked as the last little pig disappeared, barely even scratching the surface of my newfound hunger.

  He laughed and shrugged into a coat. “Fancy, yes, but a little less on the schmancy side. More importantly, they’re rumored to have the best steak in town.”

  “Do you keep a list or something?” I asked, plucking my own coat from the back of the couch and joining him at the front of the house.

  “Maybe.” He opened the door and I gave him a wry look as I walked through. Less than twenty minutes later we pulled up at our destination.

  Sullivan’s was indeed a superior steakhouse and never one that I'd envisioned myself being at, least of all with a man that looked like Michael.

  “You really know how to charm a girl,” I said, taking another bite of bloody steak swirled with fettuccine.

  “Typically, from you I would assume that was sarcasm, but by the way you're annihilating that steak, I’m leaning more towards sincerity.”

  “Aren’t we the pot calling the kettle black.” I gestured at his plate with my knife.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied as he casually popped the last bite.

  I smiled at how carefree it all was. Like at the house, we were relaxed and ourselves, without any of the pompous airs and anxiety that usually accompanied a legitimate date.

  This evening isn’t turning out so bad. He’s goofy. I’m sassy. Werewolf stuff aside, it’s almost like we’re friends.

  My libido tried to speak up, not in the least bit interested in a platonic relationship with this man. I shoved it down, determined not to ruin a good thing.

  After dinner, Michael suggested we get some ice cream and meander about. The park we found ourselves in wasn’t too unlike the one we’d visited before. Sounds of nightlife filled the evening, rebelling against the last cold snap before spring. I laughed to myself at our unique choice of treat that didn’t at all fit the weather.

  “Having a good time?” Michael asked, steering us down an unoccupied path.

  I smiled as I captured a renegade drip of chocolate. “You could say that. I still think it’s silly that we’re eating ice cream when it’s technically winter.”

  He shrugged. “I was in the mood for Rocky Road. Why? Is the cold bothering you?”

  “Of course not.” Truthfully, I probably would have been more comfortable without the coat.

  The conversation drifted off as we continued our meandering. A light breeze ruffled the hem of my dress before moving on to tease the budding leaves.

  “So, is this all werewolves do—eat?” I asked.

  He laughed as I figured he would. “No, werewolves do lots of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…” He looked up into the deeply purple sky as if searching for examples. “I don’t know. Listen to music, cook, work in the marketing department of a major firm,” he said, dropping his head to meet my gaze with a smile.

  “Oh really?” I teased as I smiled back. “And what else?”

  “Go for walks in the park, howl at the moon.”

  I barked a short laugh that turned into a smaller series of giggles.

  “I’m kidding. Well, mostly kidding,” he amended. “Now let’s see, what else? Read books, write poetry, ask out pretty ladies. The usual activities.”

  I turned to face him, my eyebrows raised. “
That last one seemed specifically sexist.”

  He laughed coming to a complete stop and meeting my gaze. “I can’t speak for other werewolves. I only know what I like to do.”

  “Ah,” I feigned surprise. “I’ve heard about the pretty ladies.” I made to continue our walk, but his fingers wrapping delicately around my wrist pulled me up short. I turned back to look at him and took in his oddly serious expression

  It was only meant to be a playful comment.

  Before I could apologize for the unintended slight, he said, “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  I blinked at a loss for an appropriate quip.

  “Besides, I’m really only interested in one pretty lady these days,” he added.

  My breathing shallowed as I struggled to think of something to say, anything at all that would put us back on even ground.

  Before I could come up with anything, he took a half step forward, leaned down, and kissed me. He settled a warm hand on my waist while the other came up to cup my face, emphasizing the gentle pressure of his lips. Shocked, I dropped my cone to the ground. The crunch as the waffle cone smashed against the concrete snapped me back to reality and I pulled back.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” He countered with a hint of laughter and made to lean back in.

  “Why?” His brow furrowed at the sharpness of the question.

  “Because I like you,” he said, looking even more confused.

  “Since when?” I fired back, at a loss for how this evening could have turned so quickly.

  “Since—” He cut himself off. “We’ve been on like eight dates.”