Werewolf in Seattle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The room was achingly familiar, with tattered paperbacks in the bookshelf along with a stack of board games. Two sports pennants, one for the Seahawks and one for the Mariners, were tacked to the wall over the bookcase. Grief lodged in his throat as he was swept back to his first summer, the summer after he’d reached puberty.

  He’d known puberty would bring the ability to shift. All Were children were carefully instructed in how to deal with that change. But being told what to expect was a far cry from actually experiencing it.

  A few times over the years he’d heard humans complain about those miserable years when they were neither child nor adult. He’d had to laugh. Sure, human kids had hormonal issues and zits, but they didn’t periodically shift into a creature with fangs and fur. Try dealing with that on a first date.

  Until he’d learned to control that ability, he couldn’t go to a movie or an arcade frequented by human teens without worrying that the urge would suddenly come upon him. All a teenage boy had to fear was an unexpected erection. Weres risked an unexpected transformation that could get them killed.

  Now he wouldn’t trade his Were status for anything, but those teenage years had been hell. His Aunt Geraldine and Uncle Henry had offered this island as a refuge while he was learning to adapt to a confusing new reality. Colin had liked Henry okay, but he’d adored Geraldine, who had seemed to understand his youthful insecurities.

  Damn it, he should have come to see her when Henry had died several years ago. He should have flown over to offer whatever comfort he could. But he hadn’t, and that failure would haunt him for a long time.

  “Far as I know, nothing’s been changed in here,” Hector said. “Aired and cleaned, of course, but not changed.”

  “I’m glad it hasn’t changed.” That first summer, his aunt had been anxious about whether he’d like the drapes and bed linens she’d chosen for him, which depicted the night sky in silver against a dark blue background.

  He’d thought the pattern was beautiful, and it had sparked an interest he still had. When she’d realized the astronomy décor suited him, she’d bought him a telescope. Winters were rainy here, but summers were generally clear, and he’d spent hours on the flat roof of the tower studying the heavens.

  Colin set down his suitcase and turned to Hector. “Do you know if the telescope’s still around?”

  “Probably in the closet. She wouldn’t have gotten rid of it.”

  No, she wouldn’t have, because she’d probably thought he might come back and use it again. Walking over to the closet, he opened the door. The telescope box sat on a shelf over the clothes rod. All the wooden hangers were empty except one.

  He turned on the light and his heart squeezed. She’d kept the Seattle Space Needle hooded sweatshirt he’d bought and left here to wear on cool summer nights. Taking off his sport coat, he hung it up, unzipped the sweatshirt, and slipped it from the hanger.

  Maybe it smelled a little musty, but he didn’t care. Maybe it was a little tight through the shoulders. Didn’t matter. He tugged it on and zipped it partway up.

  Then he glanced toward the doorway where Hector stood. “I miss her like the devil, Hector.”

  The groundskeeper nodded.

  For a moment the two gazed at each other in perfect agreement. Death sucked.

  Chapter Three

  Luna changed into jeans, a forest-green sweater, and canvas slip-ons before heading to Geraldine’s sitting room. Janet had been there ahead of her, and a wicker picnic basket sat on the wet bar’s counter. Luna smelled roast beef sandwiches and tried to remember when she’d last eaten. She’d been too involved in preparations for Colin to think about it.

  With an ease born of practice, she opened the liquor cabinet under the counter, took out the gin and vermouth, and began mixing a shaker of martinis. The stainless steel container held five servings, and she filled it to capacity out of habit. She hadn’t performed this ritual in more than a week, and doing it now, without Geraldine kibitzing from a bar stool on the other side of the counter, felt strange.

  Luna had learned how to make the drink exactly as her employer had liked it, with only a whisper of Vermouth to flavor the gin and a dash of bitters. Geraldine had encouraged Luna to share in the happy hour tradition, and she’d eventually become used to the strong taste. But Geraldine usually consumed the lion’s share of the shaker’s contents.

  Happy Hour Beach was Geraldine’s favorite place to enjoy drinks in the early evening, but the sitting room with its cozy fireplace and shelves of books had run a close second. Geraldine had mentioned that she and Henry had often enjoyed their drinks here when the weather was too ugly to be outside.

  Luna wished that she’d had a chance to meet Henry, too, but that would have been impossible. Geraldine hadn’t needed to hire a personal assistant until after Henry had died. And now they were both gone.

  Although Luna didn’t feel exactly right participating in this informal ceremony to scatter the ashes, Colin had asked, and as Geraldine’s heir, he called the shots. She hoped her presence would help. She’d never scattered anyone’s ashes before.

  As she poured gin into the martini shaker, she thought about the above-ground tombs in New Orleans and the noisy parades for the deceased. This Happy Hour Beach plan wasn’t quite the same, but Luna felt sure that Geraldine had meant for it to be a celebration of life, not a mournful acknowledgment of death.

  “It’s amazing how well I remember my way around this place.” Colin walked into the sitting room, his hair still a little damp from his shower, his amazing scent now mixed with that of shampoo and soap. He’d changed into jeans, running shoes, and a black T-shirt.

  But it was the zip-up hoodie he wore over the T-shirt that caught Luna’s attention. An obvious souvenir from the Space Needle, it was at least a size too small for him. She suspected it had sentimental value, and the tight fit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, so she wasn’t complaining.

  She couldn’t imagine any female would complain about sharing space with Colin MacDowell, who could look good no matter what clothes he wore. Or didn’t wear. She took a shaky breath and rerouted her thoughts away from that dangerous subject.

  Janet might think sex was a good tactic, but Luna wasn’t going there, no matter how much her body wanted to. “I like your sweatshirt,” she said.

  “Me, too. It doesn’t fit the way it did when I was seventeen, but it was hanging in my closet upstairs, so I put it on.” His gaze went to the pair of urns on the mantle and slid away again.

  “Sounds like the right move, to me.” She added ice to the martini shaker, screwed the lid on tight, and tucked the shaker into an insulated carrier Geraldine had bought expressly for trips to Happy Hour Beach. The carrier had a divided section for two stemmed glasses, a place for a small jar of olives, and another compartment for toothpicks.

  “That carrier’s new,” Colin said. “When I was here, they used a canvas bag.”

  Luna lifted the carrier by its strap. “Progress. Do you want to take folding chairs? When I’d have happy hour with Geraldine, we took two camp chairs.”

  “There used to be big pieces of driftwood on that beach.”

  “There still are, but Geraldine didn’t like to perch on them, especially after a couple of martinis.”

  Colin smiled. “I can understand that. But I only plan to have one drink, so the driftwood should work for me.”

  “For me, too.” She’d probably overdone it on the martinis, but she’d heard that Scotsmen liked their liquor. Maybe he’d change his mind and have more than one.

  “Then let’s forget the chairs and just go.”

  “Okay.” She started to pick up the wicker basket by its handle.

  Colin moved toward her. “I can get that. In fact, let me carry the drinks and the food.”

  “I’d rather you took the urns.”

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Right.” Shoulders back, jaw set, he walked straight to the mantel and gripped an urn in each of hi
s large hands. “Let’s go.”

  Luna led the way back out into the entry hall and through the front door. The sun had drawn closer to the horizon, but darkness wouldn’t come for another two hours, at least.

  A wind whipped Luna’s hair back from her face as she gazed out at the island-dotted expanse of blue-gray water. “Geraldine would have loved this sunny weather,” she said.

  “Yes.” Colin sounded subdued.

  Luna turned to him. “It’s not really my place to say, but I think she would have wanted us to make this a joyful occasion.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” He took a deep breath. “So we’ll do that. Lead on.”

  “That’s the spirit.” She gave him a quick smile of encouragement. Then she took a path to her left, which bordered a grassy area where Geraldine had often set up a croquet game. If Colin approved Luna’s plan, she wanted to offer guests a chance to play here. It would be a shame not to.

  Once past the croquet lawn, she started down narrow stone steps that descended about ten feet to a small crescent beach that faced west. Colin followed, his footsteps sure, his breathing steady.

  Because Luna had made it a policy to avoid close encounters with eligible males, being alone with a virile Were like Colin gave her the jitters. She reminded herself he was Geraldine’s cherished nephew, not someone to be feared. In fact, if she ever wanted to have a sexual experience, Colin would be a safe candidate given how much Geraldine had trusted him.

  But he also had the power to decide whether she’d be staying on the island. She couldn’t risk doing anything that would adversely affect his decision to let her open an inn.

  When they reached the sand, Colin let out a sigh. “Just the same as I remembered. That’s comforting, in a way. Geraldine is gone, but the beach remains the way it’s always been.”

  “It does.” The water was calm, and the waves lapped at the shoreline in a lazy rhythm. Luna wanted this to be a celebratory occasion, but the beauty of the little cove seemed to emphasize that the former owner would never enjoy it again.

  She’d sat on the beach with Geraldine about two weeks ago, and Luna remembered that last evening on the beach with fondness. They’d watched a spectacular sunset while drinking martinis and eating finger sandwiches.

  Memories of Geraldine swirled through Luna’s mind as she set the picnic basket and the insulated carrier next to a huge piece of gray driftwood, its trunk as big around as she was. It would make a good seat for both her and Colin, provided they didn’t drink too much gin. At the moment, drinking too much gin to fill the void Geraldine had left was an appealing thought.

  “Luna, look!”

  The urgency in Colin’s voice shattered her melancholy. Glancing up, she gasped in delight as a pair of orcas arched out of the water about twenty yards offshore. Their black and white, tuxedo-like markings glistened in the late afternoon sun as they undulated in tandem through the calm water.

  “I’d forgotten.” Still clutching a funerary urn in each hand, Colin watched the whales make their way past the island until they became indistinguishable from the movement of the gentle waves. He set the urns in the sand and turned to Luna. “How could I forget about the orcas? They were one of my favorite things about the summers I spent on this island.”

  “Fifteen years is a long time.”

  “Too long.” His expression was bleak. “I loved it here. I should have made it a priority to come back for a visit.”

  “She knew you were busy.” Luna hated to see him in pain, but maybe this meant her plan had a chance of succeeding. “She was proud of your accomplishments.”

  “She talked about me?”

  “All the time. Considering she left everything to you, it’s safe to say you were the son she never had.”

  Feet braced apart, hands bracketing his hips, Colin stared at the sand beneath his feet. “And a bloody inattentive one, at that.” He shifted his focus to the horizon. “At first I thought it was my duty to step aside and allow my younger brother to have his turn over here, but he wasn’t interested.”

  “Geraldine mentioned your brother. I gather he’s a handful.”

  “Aye. Duncan’s what you’d call a party animal. He thought spending the summer over here sounded as exciting as watching a sheep grow wool.”

  “He must be very different from y’all.”

  He glanced over at her. “You mean different from my whole family, or just me?”

  “Just y’all…uh, you.” She flushed. “Sorry. It’s just the way I talk. It’s confusing enough for someone who’s not Southern, let alone someone who’s not even from this country.”

  His blue gaze gentled. “Please don’t worry about it. I enjoy the way you talk.”

  “I enjoy the way y’all talk, too. Your voice reminds me of Geraldine’s.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Then maybe I need to pitch it somewhat lower.”

  That surprised a laugh out of her. “I didn’t mean you sounded feminine, I just—”

  “I know.” He flashed a grin. “Just teasing.”

  Her breath caught. He really was gorgeous with the sun picking out the gold in his hair and bronzing his skin. She could get lost in those blue eyes and that warm smile. No wonder Geraldine had loved him. He’d be easy to love.

  “I’m not sure what I did to put that look on your face,” he said, “but it’s very becoming.”

  Oh, dear. Once again she was staring at him as if she had a schoolgirl crush. She cleared her throat. “I was thinking that we need to get started.”

  He gave her a half smile, as if he didn’t believe a word of that. “Drinking or scattering?”

  “Your choice.”

  He nodded. “I suppose it is, so I choose drinking first, scattering second. I think I’ll handle this better with a little alcohol in my system.”

  “Me, too.” She knelt beside the insulated carrier, and unzipped the lid.

  “Can I help?” His voice was very close.

  She turned to find him crouched right beside her. His scent and body heat were unbelievably distracting. But asking him to move away would be rude, and he wouldn’t understand why. Most Were females would be thrilled to have him nearby, and they wouldn’t be skittish about it, either.

  Forcing herself to concentrate, she pulled the martini shaker out of the carrier and handed it to him. “Y’all can pour.”’

  “How many does this thing hold?”

  “Five, but we certainly don’t have to drink them all. Geraldine thought it was better to be oversupplied than undersupplied for a trip to Happy Hour Beach.”

  “I remember that. She wouldn’t let me drink martinis with her and Henry, but I was welcome to join them with a six-pack of soda.” He stood and began rattling the ice in the stainless steel container. “Every time I hear a bartender doing this I think shaken, not stirred.”

  “Was Geraldine a double-oh-seven fan back then, too?” Luna set the stemmed glasses upright in the carrier and added the olives.

  “Rabid. It’s a wonder Henry wasn’t jealous, the way she carried on about Sean Connery. But Henry was a good sport about it. He was daft about her.”

  “From things she said to me, I think she was daft about him, too.” Luna didn’t normally use the word daft, but she thought it sounded more cultured than crazy. She picked up both glasses and carefully stood so she wouldn’t dump the olives.

  “She must have been deeply in love,” Colin said. “The story was that she came over to Vancouver on vacation, met Henry, and never returned to Scotland. The Whittier pack in Vancouver wasn’t happy because Henry was supposed to mate with someone else, and the MacDowell pack wasn’t happy because she’d abandoned them for some Canadian Were.”

  “No wonder they decided to buy an island and live by themselves.” She held out the glasses. “Fill ‘em up. We need to toast Geraldine and Henry, who valued their own happiness over the opinions of others.”

  “That they did.” Colin poured the clear liquid into each glass. “They marched to t
heir own drummer, which isn’t common in our world.”

  “No.” She felt a prick of unease. It might be Colin’s world, but she still wasn’t convinced it was hers. Sometimes she thought it could be, and other times she felt like a fraud.

  Keeping his glass level, he leaned down, settled the shaker in the carrier, and flipped the lid over it. Then he straightened and touched the rim of his glass to hers. “To Henry and Geraldine, who created the life they wanted.”

  “To Henry and Geraldine.” She met his gaze and added a fervent wish that he’d allow her to create the life she wanted here on Le Floret. As she took a sip of her drink, she watched him from beneath her lashes.

  His mouth fascinated her. She’d had one kiss in her life, a hard, demanding, and disgusting kiss forced on her by a guest at one of the hotels where she’d worked as a maid. If that was kissing, she wanted no part of it. But she couldn’t imagine Colin behaving with such aggression and lack of finesse.

  He took a long swallow and glanced up. “Nicely done, Luna. James Bond would approve of this martini.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Shall we sit?” He gestured toward the giant piece of driftwood.

  “Okay.” She picked out a level spot and settled down on the water-polished wood.

  Colin surveyed the driftwood and chose a section about two feet away from her. Balancing on the driftwood, he nudged off his shoes. “Ah, that’s better. Geraldine didn’t think anyone should wear shoes on the beach.”

  “That’s right.” Luna had thought about that, but she hadn’t wanted to appear overly casual. If Colin was going barefoot, then she could, too.

  Toeing off her shoes, she nudged them aside and wiggled her toes in the warm sand. The familiar sensation soothed her. “Geraldine believed in enjoying life to the fullest, whatever that meant to someone.”

  “That she did.” Colin took another swallow of his martini and gazed out at the water. “And she encouraged others to do the same. I wonder…”