What was wrong with her? Not only was this not like her, but she was making herself look incompetent in front of a man who didn’t need any more ammunition against her. She sighed, frustrated with herself. “Today is not my day.”
“What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Titus. This was definitely going to get her mocked. “I don’t have my keys. They’re in the squad car, which I’m sure was driven back to the station. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Well, it has been a long day. Also, the doctor told us to expect some memory loss, remember?”
“I…think I do.”
He had the nerve to look amused. “Don’t you have a spare for the house hidden around here? One of those fake-rock things?”
She gave him a sharp look. He might be the fire chief, but he was still a civilian to her. “Are you kidding? Do you know how unsafe that is? That’s the first thing burglars look for.”
He was struggling not to laugh. “Do we have a lot of problems with burglars in Nocturne Falls? Also, who would be dumb enough to break into your house?”
“No. And true. But still, I can’t get into my house.”
He was looking over her shoulder. “Don’t you have a keypad on your garage door?”
She really was losing it. She sighed. “Yes. We can get in that way.” She didn’t wait for him, just went straight to the garage and punched in her code to lift the door.
It went up, revealing her tidy garage. She liked things neat. She also didn’t like a lot of stuff. An abundance of clutter, especially the useless kind, stressed her out. All those knickknacks and decorative things other people filled their homes with? That wasn’t ever going to be her.
What she had in her house and what she decorated with all had a purpose. Or in some rare cases where there was no obvious purpose, they were things she found beautiful or that brought her joy.
Less was definitely more to her.
A new thought struck her. What if Titus was a slob? Or just a really disorganized person? How long could she put up with someone else’s mess? Not long. She might be batty in less than a week.
“Wow,” Titus said. “This is one of the cleanest garages I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks.” She watched his face closely. “So is your garage a hot mess?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that. But it’s not this neat.”
That was code for hot mess. She just knew it. Trying not to grind her teeth, she left the garage behind and went into the house. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Have a seat if you like. Or help yourself to something to drink.”
She went straight to the second bath. There were indeed some unmentionables drying on the little wooden rack she’d set up in the bathtub. At least she’d remembered them. She gathered all of it into her arms and turned for her bedroom down the hall.
And ran smack into Titus.
The tangle of brightly colored lace and silk exploding from Jenna’s arms caught Titus off guard. If put on the spot and made to guess what kind of underwear she wore, he would have said white cotton. Or those nude colors a lot of women wore. His ex, Zoe, had always chosen those. Flesh tones. Because they were practical.
Nothing in Jenna’s arms looked practical. Unless neon pink, bright blue and candy-apple red were the new nudes. There was even a lime green in there.
He couldn’t stop staring. Worse, his mouth was open in surprise, and he couldn’t be bothered to close it.
He’d never look at her the same way again. Jury was out on whether or not that was a good thing, given their current bespelled state.
“Do you mind?” She raised her brows. “You’re in my way.”
“Sorry, I was just…” What had he been about to do? He scratched his head. “Are you having trouble remembering things? I feel like I’m struggling with my short-term memory a bit. You think it’s that stuff we were exposed to?”
She nodded, squeezing past him to get to her bedroom door. “Yes. Remember how I forgot my keys? And how you just told me the doctor said we’d forget stuff?”
“When?” Then he laughed. “Did I just prove my own point?”
She laughed, too, but more like she was laughing with him than at him. “I think you did. I won’t be long. I just need to pack enough for a few days.”
“Packing! That’s what I was going to ask you.” His head still wasn’t right after being doused. “Do you need me to get anything together for you?”
“I don’t think so—actually, you could go through the fridge and pack up all the perishables to take to your house. I have steaks in there I was going to make tonight. We could have them for dinner.”
He nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”
“My shopping bags are in the narrow lower cabinet next to the fridge.”
“On it.” He went into the kitchen but took a look around before getting to work. Her whole house was like her garage. Neat to the point of overkill. But then, she worked a lot. Maybe she just wasn’t home enough to make a mess. There were much worse things than being neat.
He pulled out a shopping bag and opened the fridge.
Everything was lined up, label out. Even the half shelf of imported beer. He chuckled. Okay, maybe she was a little obsessive. Everyone had their quirks, right?
He loaded up the bag with everything that seemed important or perishable, then looked around the kitchen for anything else she might need. Was she a coffee drinker? There was a coffeemaker on the counter but no creamer in the fridge. Lots of cops took their coffee black, though.
Just because he was curious, he opened the freezer. More meat, some vegetables, and four containers of ice cream. Rocky road, triple-chocolate smash, chocolate peanut butter, and chocolate chocolate chip.
Someone had a little addiction. Good to know.
He peeked down the hall. She was still in the bedroom.
He opened a few of the kitchen cabinets. All just as neat as everything else he’d found. Plates stacked just so. Food grouped by kinds and arranged the same way as things in the fridge. Labels out. Tidy rows.
“Looking for something?”
He’d been caught. No point in denying the truth. He closed the cabinet and turned around. “Nope, just being nosy. Trying to see what you like and don’t like. Since we’re going to be living together.”
“Don’t say ‘living together.’ That makes this whole thing sound more salacious than it really is.”
“Salacious? From the woman who gave me grief because I used the word ‘keen’?” He laughed.
She smirked at him, but that was all the fuss she made. Just set down her large duffel bag and glanced at the shopping bag he’d filled. “I’m not a picky eater, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out. Did you get the steaks?”
He nodded. “And the cheese and lunch meat that was in there, too, plus the veggies that were in the crisper.”
“Good. Thanks. Did you get the beer?”
“I have beer.”
She made a face at him. “You have Warhammer Stout?”
“No. I have Coors. And I think some Sam Adams.”
She snorted. “If I want bottled water, I’ll buy some Fiji.” She turned. “I’ll get a crate from the garage.”
She went out and came back in with a plastic milk crate, put it on the table, then started loading it with bottles. When it was full, she shut the fridge. “That’ll do it.”
He was too amused to keep quiet. “You realize that’s also beer, right?”
“Warhammer Stout isn’t beer. It’s the nectar of the gods. Literally, the founder is a berserker, and rumor has it he stole the recipe from Valhalla.”
Now Titus was curious.
It must have shown on his face. She laughed. “You can try a bottle.”
“Thanks.”
She put her hands on her hips. “We’ll need to call for a ride again, either to the department or the station, to get one of our vehicles.”
“I can do it.” He pulled out h
is phone. “How do I do it?”
She squinted at him. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t already have the Ryde app on your phone, which means you don’t have an account set up.” She got her phone out. “I’ll take care of it.”
She tapped a few buttons, and they were set. “Eleven minutes.”
“I assume we’re going to the fire station first, since it’s closer?”
“Yep. Then you can drive me to the department, and I’ll get my car and follow you.”
He nodded. “Sounds good. Should we wait outside? I can carry the groceries and beer, since you have your bag.”
She gave him another look but said nothing. Probably she wanted to say something about how she was just as strong as he was. Maybe stronger. She was a valkyrie, after all. A very sexy—whoa, where had that come from? He knew where. He just didn’t want to admit it.
But it had to be the love spell. There was no other explanation. Was she feeling it too? She wasn’t really acting like it.
Was the spell also why he couldn’t stop thinking about all those brightly colored underthings he’d seen earlier and why he couldn’t stop wondering how many of them had made it into the duffel bag?
Whatever the answer, he had the distinct feeling he was already in trouble.
Jenna didn’t want to be impressed with Titus’s house, but she was. The Craftsman-style lodge home seemed exactly like the kind of house a rugged, alpha male werewolf would live in.
To be honest, the place looked very much like the sort of house she’d want to live in someday. From the square white columns that broadened into stacked stone foundations, to the crisp white trim and clean lines, the house had a strength about it. A presence that felt solid and unshakable. Like you knew whoever lived here was someone you could depend on.
She supposed that was precisely who the fire chief should be. And maybe Titus was that kind of guy. Most likely. She didn’t know him that well. Didn’t need to, either, no matter what the love spell was influencing her to do.
What did her house say about her? Probably not much. It was a simple three-bedroom ranch. Neat, well maintained, but it certainly didn’t have this kind of charm or personality.
She’d parked her squad car in the driveway beside his fire chief’s truck. She got out and stood there for a moment as Titus got out of his truck. “Do you think we should park in the garage? Or is your garage too full of stuff to actually fit cars into?”
His glance held a little moodiness at the question. “My garage might not be as empty as yours, but it’s not full of junk either. Why do you want to park in there?”
Her brows bent. Did he really not get it? “You don’t think having my car parked in your driveway is going to cause tongues to wag?”
“Is that another dog joke?”
“No. I’m just saying word’s going to spread fast that I’m staying here.” She’d never been one to give much attention to rumors or care what anyone said about her, but something about this situation made the impending gossip seem unfair.
“For one thing,” he started, “we’re together out of medical necessity. Or…magical necessity. Because of magic gone awry. If anyone can understand that, it’s the citizens of Nocturne Falls. For another, for all anyone knows, that could be my brother’s car. He does stop by every once in a while. He lives just down the street.”
“Right, but does he often stay overnight?” Mostly, Jenna wanted to tell Tessa before she found out through the grapevine and assumed something else was going on.
“No. I guess I see your point. If you really want to park in the garage, I suppose I can make room.”
“I don’t want to put you out. Any more than I have. I just need to call Tessa and tell her what’s going on. Everyone else can get bent.” She hoisted her duffel over her shoulder, grabbed her purse, and headed for the front porch.
He snorted. “There you go. That’s the right attitude.”
She walked up onto his porch. There was an actual swing. A really pretty one too. Looked custom made. If she had one of those, she’d sit in it all the time. “Hey, that’s cool.”
“You like that?” Titus asked as if he didn’t believe her. Or wasn’t sure if she was making a joke or not. He joined her at the front door, his keys jangling in his hand.
She realized she was smiling. “Yeah, it’s really nice. You must use it all the time.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not at all.”
“Really? Why not? I’d be out here every—”
“Let me get the door unlocked.” He set the crate of beer down, then shifted the bag of groceries to his other arm so he could slide the key in. A second later, he swung the door wide. “After you.”
He’d cut her off so quickly about the swing, she knew better than to ask again. But why? Since when was a porch swing a touchy subject? Maybe he’d tell her after a Warhammer Stout. That brew had a way of loosening up those who weren’t used to its punch.
“Thanks.” She walked into the house, unsurprised that it was equally as beautiful on the inside. And thankfully, pretty uncluttered.
Sure, he had more stuff than she did, but it all worked well in the space. The whole Craftsman cabin look of shelves filled with books, throw pillows spread about, and rag rugs gave off a very cozy vibe. Here and there were small objects that looked like they held significance. Like the red and yellow crudely crafted mug that sat on the fireplace mantel. It had to have been made by a child. Unless Titus had terrible taste in pottery.
“Kitchen’s this way.” He walked past her and through the dining room.
She followed, taking in the house as they went. It wasn’t a large house, but it was considerably bigger than hers. More open, really. And, well, just bigger. At the back was a wall of sliders that looked out over a huge rear deck and the forest that lay beyond.
That alone made it easy to see why he liked living here. All that green. So inviting. And how nice not to have neighbors behind you. Her backyard butted up to the Stewarts. Nice people but sometimes noisier than she liked.
They went into the kitchen, and he flipped the light on, which wasn’t really necessary because of all the natural light already filling the space.
The kitchen continued the heavy presence of wood in the house with beautiful caramel-colored cabinets topped with polished tan-and-black granite. The wrought-iron handles and pulls on the cabinets pulled the whole thing together.
It was a man’s kitchen for sure, but she liked it. More interesting than her plain white with brushed-nickel hardware.
She especially liked that his fridge was covered with kids’ drawings and school pictures. It was unexpected and disturbingly heartwarming. He was clearly a proud uncle, and there was something undeniably sweet about that. Which sucked in a way. She didn’t want to like this guy. Not more than a usual level of like.
But she had to give him props for the space he lived in. “This kitchen is beautiful. Like something out of a magazine. Your whole house is, really.”
“Thanks.” He put the beer and groceries on the long center island that divided the cooking area from the dining room across from it. “There’s room for some of your beer in the refrigerator, but I usually keep drinks in the garage fridge.”
“I can put them out there, no problem. So did you decorate the house yourself?”
He tilted his head back and forth as he started putting her groceries in his fridge. “My sister, Bridget, helped. So did my mom a little. But I had final say on everything. That was our deal.”
“Well, the three of you did a fantastic job.”
He nodded. “My mom and Bridget are really good at that kind of stuff. Bridget designed Howler’s, you know.”
“I didn’t know that. I love that place.”
“I know. I see you in there sometimes.”
“Mostly on Thursdays every couple of weeks.” That was usually the night she hung out with the other deputies after work. “I see you too. But I guess you go there a lot since your sister owns it.”<
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He laughed, but there was a self-deprecating undertone. “Every night, pretty much.”
Her brows went up. “Really?”
He laughed again, harder this time and without any edge. “Don’t worry, we can stay in. I realize eating out every night isn’t normal.”
“Hey, it’s normal for you, so that’s cool. I just don’t have the budget to eat out every night.”
“Bridget doesn’t charge me.”
“Because you’re her brother. I’m not family. I wouldn’t expect or want her to feed me for free.”
“Right, good point.” He put the last of her supplies into the fridge.
She folded the reusable grocery bag now that it was empty. “I suppose that means you’re not much on cooking, then.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent cook.”
“And yet you eat out every night?” She tilted her head in disbelief.
He shrugged. “I cook a lot at the firehouse. And it’s hard to go from cooking for a crowd to cooking for one. Plus, it’s easier to eat at Howler’s.”
“That makes sense, I guess.” She hoisted the crate of beer. “Which way to the garage?”
He started forward. “I’ll get the door.”
His gentlemanly tendencies weren’t helping her not like him. “I can get it. Really. Just point me. If I’m going to be here until this spell is removed, and we’re trying not to let it get the best of us, you might as well just treat me like one of the guys.”
He took one more step forward, which put him in her personal space. “What’s wrong with treating you like the woman you are? I don’t want to treat you like one of the guys. Because you aren’t.”
“I…” He was so close words failed her. She could smell that fresh forest scent again. She shook her head, finding her voice. “You’re letting the spell get to you.”
The Werewolf Dates the Deputy Page 5
