Red Hot Wolfie

by Nyx Halliwell

  “You’re not going to tell me my name?”

  “As I said, I’m no expert on concussions, but amnesia? I know a few facts about that. It would help your brain if you remember that on your own.”

  “But maybe if you tell me, or at least give me a hint, it would spark the rest of my memory.”

  He towers over me, the blanket shifting and nearly falling before he clutches it. We both laugh.

  Maybe he’s right. “Renfroe. Sound familiar?”

  The creases that I find endearing appear between his brows again. He knots the material. “Can’t say that it— Wait!”

  He paces, a hand going to the back of his neck. “That’s it.” He returns and grabs my upper arms, his face splitting in a grin. “My name is Renfroe Woolsey. Renfroe Redfern Woolsey, to be exact.”

  Relieved, I return his smile. “Nice to meet you, Renfroe Redfern Woolsey.”

  “You’re amazing, Ruby.” He releases me, still grinning from ear to ear. Holding out his hand, he gives me a nod. “My friends call me Ren.”

  Chapter Five

  The kitchen is filled with the smells of coffee, eggs, and unfortunately, burnt toast. Entering, I see Zelle at the toaster, and I shoo her away.

  “So, who’s the naked guy in our shower?” She feeds a portion of the nearly blackened bread to Rumpelstiltskin.

  “His name is Ren Woolsey. He’s the new vet. Don’t embarrass him when he comes down, okay? He’s definitely had a bad night.”

  She winks. “Sure, sis. Whatever you say.”

  Cinder flips an egg onto a plate as I push slices of bread in, adjusting the timer. “I’m sorry I missed the fun. Why exactly is he here?”

  Grabbing the butter from the fridge, I spill the details I know so far, including that Poppi heard wolves howling in the forest last night. “Are werewolves and shifters…real?”

  “They sure are,” Matilda says. There’s a quirky smile on her face. “I knew a werewolf back in the day. He was hot. We fought like cats and dogs…well, just dogs, I guess, but man, he was something else when it came to—”

  “Thank you.” I raise a hand to stop her. “We don’t need details.”

  Zelle laughs and passes a carafe of orange juice to her. “I had no idea you dated a werewolf.”

  The smile grows wicked. “Dated isn’t exactly the term I’d use.”

  “Can we get back to our guest?” Flustered, I concentrate on the toast. “I can’t say for sure, since I didn’t witness him shift, but there’s a strong possibility he’s one or the other. Crazy, right?”

  Uncle Odin sips his coffee slowly as he accepts a plate from Cinder. “Woolsey, did you say? I believe that’s from the old English name, Wulfsige.”

  We all look at him, waiting for him to continue, or add why this is important. Our beloved uncle is full of facts and somewhat useless information, but we love him dearly. He salts his egg, offering nothing further.

  The toaster pops and I place the slices on a plate and drop four more into the slots. The butter is still cold and doesn’t want to spread evenly.

  Matilda prompts him. “Wulfsige refers to what, a wolf?”

  “Yes, yes.” He nods and accepts a piece from me. “Quite so. W-U-L-F equals wolf. Sige stands for victory.”

  “What do you believe is most likely?” I ask. “Were or shifter?”

  He considers this. “We’d need to know if it runs in his family.”

  Cinder gives Matilda an egg. “Shifters pass the gene to their kids, right?”

  He swallows a bite and nods. “Weres are, in general, created by the bite of another of their kind. Regardless if it’s wolves, bears, or cats, the saliva transfers the virus, but there have been cases where it was passed from a parent to a child, I believe. I can research it in more detail.”

  “Is it possible he doesn’t know?” I ask, bringing the rest of the toast to the table.

  “Are you sure he doesn’t?” Matilda reaches for a jar of apricot jam. “You said his memory is spotty, so maybe his ancestral wolf-y lineage will come back like his name.”

  “Sorry—ancestral what lineage?”

  Ren stands in the doorway. His dark hair is now wet from the shower. The sweatpants I gave him are far too small, his ankles clearly on display.

  “Come in. Have a seat.” I hustle up food for him, setting the plate at my place around the large farmhouse table. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Fine,” he states, nodding at the others.

  “Would you like cider, too, or do you prefer coffee? We also have juice.”

  Cinder gives me a small grin that makes me realize I’m rambling.

  All eyes turn to Ren, and he looks uncomfortable being in the spotlight. “Can I have some of each? I’m famished and dehydrated.”

  There’s an assortment of grins and chuckles. “That a boy,” Uncle Odin says, sneaking jam for his toast. “You may be a shifter, son. Did no one tell you?”

  Silence falls, and I halt mid-pour with the juice.

  “Shifter?” Ren’s gaze flicks to me. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Belle enters at that moment, her porcelain cheeks pink and her blond hair in a beautiful braid decorated with ribbons. “I didn’t know we were having company.” She shrugs off her coat, while Jayne Eyre, her Pekingese, sniffs Ren’s feet. “Hi, I’m Belle. You’re a shifter? What kind? I didn’t realize we had any in the area.”

  Ren’s face contorts as he glances between me and the others. I see some form of understanding starting to take hold in the depths of his eyes. “You mean, like a supernatural creature?”

  We all remain quiet, as we wait for him to process this.

  He scans the kitchen, then snickers. “Ah, I get it. Funny. You guys are messing with me.”

  Cinder clears her throat and offers Belle an egg. “The poor guy has had a rough night. Let him eat.”

  The clang of silverware and normal family conversation returns, Matilda telling us about her latest workshop with a group of women embracing their inner goddess. She’s holding another of her full moon rituals later in the week near the edge of the forest, since Cinder has banned her from holding them inside. Last month, her candles nearly set the place on fire.

  Only Ren doesn’t immediately dig back in.

  “Did you invite Nonni?” I ask offhandedly, careful to avoid staring at Ren.

  “Of course.” Matilda doesn’t know the meaning of rude, and openly watches him. “She’ll be howling at that ol’ moon, just like the rest of us, come Saturday night.”

  I pour myself a cup of cider, give Ren another, then begin cleaning the skillet and spatula.

  “You’re not eating?” he asks as he shovels down the food. He’s definitely hungry.

  Like a wolf.

  I bring the coffee carafe over and refill cups. “I’ve already eaten with our grandparents. By the way, Cinder, Nonni could use an extra jar of your medicinal cream. Her hip is acting up in the cooler weather, and she’s already begun her celebrations, dancing in the moonlight last night.”

  Everyone chuckles, except Ren, who stops eating.

  “Poppi said he’ll be by to help with any work you plan to do today,” I continue, and my older sister nods.

  “I can use all the help I can get.”

  Belle and Zelle talk about a book of recipes Belle has discovered in Eunice’s library. Zelle tells her she’ll look at it tonight. She has a large wedding this weekend to prepare for. The bride and her bridesmaids all want Zelle to do their hair and makeup.

  Conversation slows as they finish off their breakfasts. Ren checks under the sweatshirt and glances my way. “That stuff you put on my cut really works.” He inhales another forkful of food. “The wound is nearly healed already. How is that possible?”

  “Ruby’s cape is magickal,” Zelle says with no preamble. “It heals people.”

  Ren freezes mid-breath.

  “Hey, my cream is pretty powerful,” Cinder argues.

  Ren places his fork down. “I’m
sorry. A magickal cape?”

  Zelle resumes eating as Rumpelstiltskin chitters at her, begging for more toast. She points to the garment in question, hastily thrown over an extra chair in the corner. “It’s one of a kind, just like Ruby.”

  The look he shoots me seems to contain a question of whether or not we’re pulling his leg again. “I’ll have it cleaned for you. Do magickal clothes require special handling?”

  His tone holds a note of teasing.

  “No need,” I assure him, inwardly cringing. To a mundane—someone without magick--we must sound unhinged. “It’s self-cleaning.”

  As he stares, mouth gaping, Zelle laughs and winks at her twin.

  Belle giggles. “Hey, Ruby, Zelle and I will open the store so you can take him home.”

  “I don’t know where that is.” His expression turns befuddled. “Do you?”

  Relieved to change the subject, but sorry he’s struggling, I nod. Does he blank out like this after every shift? “You’re a few blocks away. Do you remember anything besides your name?”

  “I’m good with my hands.” He looks at them and flexes his fingers, then his attention switches to Rumpelstiltskin. “And I like animals.”

  The ferret is now taunting Savannah, our shop cat, and trying to displace her from her favorite perch in the corner.

  Lenore caws from her cage—the door is open, but she’s nestled on the bar. Her wise, black eyes watch everything. “Time to go,” she declares. “Time to go.”

  Surprise and delight lift Ren’s brows. “He talks?”

  “She,” I correct. “Yes, she can speak when she wants to.”

  He glances at the wall clock and bolts from his chair. “It’s nearly nine. I have to…” He sets his napkin down and pauses, scratching his head. “I have to do something. It’s my…first day.”

  He walks to Savannah and Rumpelstiltskin, then studies Lenore. Jayne sniffs him again, and Cinder’s hedgehog, McAllister, scrambles out from behind our antique pie cupboard.

  He bends and scratches the ferret’s neck, pats Jayne, and laughs as McCallister races under the table to check for crumbs. His face lights up, and he pivots back to me. “I’m a veterinarian.”

  “Very good.” His joy makes me smile. “Yes, you are, and we better get you to the clinic. It’s going to be a big day.”

  Chapter Six

  “I like that soap you had in the shower.” Ren sniffs his exposed wrist. “It’s refreshing.”

  Main Street glistens in the sun. Other shops are starting to open. Minerva Montes at the quilt store is sweeping her sidewalk and waves as we go by.

  “Frosted Pine,” I tell him, returning it and wondering if Sawyer, her grandson, will ever come home for Christmas. She’s getting older and could use the help. With his featherbrained mother always off chasing her next husband, Sawyer is all Minerva has left for family.

  But boy, would that create havoc with Zelle. “It reminds me of the forest in November,” I tell Ren.

  That brings forth a sigh from him. “I sure wish I could remember what happened.”

  “You will.” I hope that’s true. “Is there anything you can recall about today’s appointments?”

  He’s quiet for a moment, then rattles off several facts about the pets coming in for checkups. His memory is definitely returning, it just has a ways to go yet.

  “I think I wanted to move here because of something more than the clinic being for sale,” he says after another block. “The town itself appealed to me.”

  “Do you come from the city?”

  “I believe so, but I still can’t recall my parents. It’s…weird.”

  “Maybe you should check your phone, or see if you have an address book. I’m sure their contact info will be in there.”

  He smiles at me and it warms my insides, much like the heat from the vent warms my hands. “Good idea.”

  “Story Cove is a nice, small, southern town,” I tell him. “My sisters and I grew up here, and most folks accept us.”

  “What’s not to like?” He doesn’t mention the “witch” label, but I sense it behind his statement. “Your family seems great.”

  I have the feeling he’s using that term instead of odd. “We laid a lot on you at breakfast. I hope you’re okay with our frankness.”

  “I’d rather know the truth than be kept in the dark.”

  I pull into the clinic parking lot. “Here we are. Do you recognize it?”

  “Yeah, I do.” His voice is full of wonder. “I know this place. I moved here last week. There’s an apartment upstairs but I haven’t unpacked my stuff yet, and I feel…at home here.”

  My heart tweaks. This is good news—all of it. “The town needs you. Most folks have at least one pet, and the farms around here have livestock. My sisters and I rescue injured forest animals and sometimes they need more care than we can provide.”

  His gaze swings my direction and he studies my face. “Apparently, you take in strays, too.”

  Staring into his eyes, I feel like I’m drowning. I understand he’s referring to himself. He hasn’t quite grasped what he really is yet, but he will. “Happy to help.”

  “I’d like to buy some soap from you. I’ll return your clothes later and get a couple bars then, if that’s okay.”

  “Absolutely.”

  We simply stare at each for another long moment, and my pulse skips and dances as I feel that rush of connection. I wonder if it’s something deeper than simple gratitude for me doctoring and feeding him.

  “Would you like me to come in with you?” I ask, reluctant to leave. “I can answer calls, set up appointments, or whatever until you’re back to full speed.”

  He reaches over and pats my hand. His fingers are warm. “You’ve done more than enough for me. I know you have your own business to run.”

  I suspect he’s going to be fine, but I give him one of our business cards with my personal number on the back. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I know you have a full schedule, but try to take it easy, if you can. Get some extra rest, and consider seeing Doc. He can run tests and treat the memory loss.”

  “I will, and thank you.” He leans across the divide and kisses my cheek unexpectedly. “You’ve been incredibly kind and I appreciate it.”

  The back door to the clinic is locked, and he obviously has no key. I wait until he pries open a window and climbs in. It’s no hardship to watch him, his body graceful and strong.

  Once he’s safely inside, he waves. I have to roll down the window on my way to Enchanted to let in cool air. My fingers rest on the spot his lips touched and I can’t keep the silly grin off my face.

  Wait ’til I tell Nonni!

  The open sign is out when I arrive. We take turns running the place, and Matilda and Uncle Odin often help. I think Eunice would be happy to see what we’ve accomplished.

  From her appearance this morning, she is hanging around, so she probably does know.

  Belle and Zelle each have outside jobs, along with their duties at our shop. Belle works part-time next door at Beanstalk Books. Zelle is a hairstylist who is known for her unusual and unique styles.

  With the holidays around the corner, she’s booked. Her own hair grows at an astronomical rate, and although she usually starts the morning with it shaved, or at least cropped close to her scalp, it’s down to her ankles by the time evening comes.

  Belle is busy at the bookstore this time of year, too, receiving regular daily deliveries for the holiday buying season.

  Cinder longs to spend more time on the remodeling project to expand our floor space and create a better flow in the workroom, but this time of year leaves no spare time for anything else. She makes most of the candles, and our in-store and online orders have recently skyrocketed.

  I grab a fresh cup of warm cider before getting to work. Matilda has sent Zelle off to her appointments and is at the register. Belle is assisting a customer.

  By ten, Cinder is restocking shelves as fast as they empty out, a
nd I’ve replaced our godmother at the counter. I take payments, bag products, and answer the phone.

  Although it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, people are already buying for Christmas. Right before noon, the women’s auxiliary members stop by and fill the shop with gossip and plenty of good-natured teasing. The thing about the rush is that it keeps my mind off Ren.

  When things slow near lunchtime, Matilda returns with tea in her unicorn mug. Cinder brings out the last of the Autumn Walk candles from our inventory, and we restock holiday scents like Mistletoe, Christmas Hearth, and Jingle Belle Berry.

  “Katie Beane about wiped us out,” Cinder jokes. “Sure hope her family likes soap and candles.”

  “They’re great stocking stuffers.” I replenish our signature gift bags under the counter. “She said she’s done with her shopping now.”

  Which reminds me, I haven’t even thought about what to get my sisters.

  “Did you get your wolfie friend home safe and sound?” Matilda asks, peering out the front window and petting Savannah.

  Another reminder. “Yes, and he remembered more on the way there. I should check on him, though.”

  Cinder carries in an armload of glass candles. “I wonder why he was drawn here?”

  I take two from her. “Family name aside, he could still be a werewolf, right?”

  She sets the rest on the center table display. “Does it matter?”

  “I think it does. When his memory fully returns, I hope he’s aware of his abilities and has control of them. He seemed completely lost when we were discussing the supernatural earlier.”

  Matilda leaves her perch and sniffs one of the candles. “He sure was beat up and bloody when you found him. He must have had quite a tussle with something.”

  Cinder arranges them to her liking. “He was probably chasing rabbits. Good thing he left Nonni’s layers alone, you do not mess with her chickens. Poppi might have shot him.”

  She grins, but I don’t. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. I retrieve my phone from behind the counter and dial Robyn. The police department operator informs me she’s at lunch.