0968348001325302640 brenda huber shadows

by Unknown

  Before she’d drifted back to sleep, he’d whispered in her ear that he needed to go in to the office, but he promised her he’d be back later in the day. He’d dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, and one behind her ear, given her a strange, fierce look, and slipped from her bed.

  JJ fingered the skin behind her ear. There was no welt now, as she’d have expected from a bug bite.

  It felt normal. It didn’t hurt anymore either.

  Shrugging, she rolled back to her stomach and wrapped her arms around her pillow, grinning like a loon. Her friends hadn’t been just a-kiddin’, she mused with a smile. He was a sex-god in bed. Surely, it was a sin for a man to have a body like that. And that tattoo. She’d never seen anything so…so sinfully sexy. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d asked him about it, why he’d chosen that particular tattoo, and what it meant. He’d told her that in medieval legend, griffins were said to be guardians of kings and treasures. They were ferocious protectors, unquestionably loyal, lethally strong, and fiercely intelligent.

  The griffin was a perfect symbol for Cam. She giggled at the whimsical thought.

  She was exhausted, and she’d never been more relaxed, more satisfied. It should probably have bothered her, the fact that she’d fallen so readily into bed with him, especially given the fact she’d known him for such a short time. That wasn’t like her, not at all. JJ just wasn’t a girl to play fast and loose, in fact, she could count on one hand how many men she’d been intimate with…and still have several fingers left.

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  More disturbing, however, was the confounding feeling it wouldn’t have mattered whether she’d been with one man or a hundred before Cam. Nothing would have compared with what she’d found in his arms. There was, quite simply, a before Cam. And then there was Cam.

  The question now remained, would there be an after?

  Pushing those unsettling thoughts away, she shoved the comforter aside and crawled from the bed, limping to the bathroom. She ached in places she hadn’t known it was possible to ache. A long, steaming shower helped to ease her muscles, but the tenderness between her thighs remained. A pleasant reminder of how she’d spent the long hours laced in shadows and moonlight.

  In Cam’s warm, strong arms.

  A brief pang of guilt flickered over her as she recalled how her evening had begun…and that poor man in the woods. Being with Cam had driven those horrid memories completely from her mind.

  Now, in the bright light of day, they’d returned.

  Subdued, she dressed, ate a quick breakfast of cinnamon sprinkled toast, and stepped out onto the back porch with her brimming coffee mug in hand.

  Sunlight bathed the day in cheery rays. The early morning air was warm and crisp, filling her with the promise of a pleasant, warm spring day. She surveyed her flower gardens. Vibrant spring buds were thriving now that she’d banished the choking weeds. She could work there a bit more, but she was too restless for that.

  Stepping back inside the kitchen, she refilled her mug, and made her way to her studio in the attic. She had obligations now—work to do. Golden sunlight flooded the room, just as she knew it would that first morning she’d set foot here. Crossing to the window, she pushed it wide open and breathed deep 267

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  of the fresh air. A promising hint of rain hung on to the day. Perhaps her flowers would get a shower later. Smiling, she positioned her easel and paints. It was a beautiful day, and, thanks in large part to Cam, she was filled with inspiration.

  Death would not trespass here.

  She wouldn’t allow it to color her work, not anymore.

  Several hours later, JJ stepped back to survey her canvas. Bright splashes of color, bold and true, commanded the eye. The smaller, equally important details were perfect. It was finished.

  Lovers…

  The fundamental word drifted through her mind from out of nowhere. So simple, yet so intrinsic.

  Intimate.

  She’d call this one Lovers. Satisfied, she removed the canvas from the easel and propped it on the table at the far end of the room. After equipping the easel with a fresh canvas, blank and eager for life, she cleaned her brushes, reorganized her paints, and tossed the rag she’d used to wipe her hands into a small bucket on the floor at the end of the table.

  The warm breeze wafting through the open windows called to her, caressing her with tantalizing, eager fingers. She couldn’t resist any longer.

  In short order, JJ donned her hiking boots, crammed her keys and a small fold of cash into one pocket and her cell phone into the other. A nice long stretch of the legs sounded wonderful. With any luck, the rain would hold off until she got back, and if it didn’t, so what. She wouldn’t melt.

  Despite the agreeable possibility of seeing her wolf again, she couldn’t face the woods, nor did she want to remember what she’d discovered there last night. She wandered down her lane, turning her boots toward town instead.

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  Ginny into a late lunch. Wouldn’t it be icing on her cake if Maggie’s special of the day were that delicious meatloaf again? That thought put a spring in her step. Nodding and smiling, JJ greeted pedestrians on the street with an ease she’d never felt in Minneapolis. Pushing the door to the hardware store open, she smiled at the cheerful jingle of bells.

  “Well, good afternoon there, sunshine,” Ginny greeted her. She finished lining up a row of extra stock on the top shelf, and climbed down from the stepladder. Dusting her hands on the hips of her faded jeans, Ginny joined JJ at the counter.

  “Afternoon,” JJ beamed. “You have lunch yet?”

  “Nope. Got busy after this morning’s delivery and lost track of time.” She shot a glance over her right shoulder, whispered conspiratorially, “Soon as Ms. Potter here decides which garden hose she wants, we can make a break for it. You’d swear she was pickin’ out fine china for the White House for all the time she’s taking.”

  JJ propped a hip against the counter and settled in to make small talk while the hunch-backed, elderly woman in a ratty, old-fashioned shawl waffled between green coils and colorful labels.

  “How’s Tanner?”

  “The little stinker finally managed to wear me down,” Ginny complained with a good-natured smile.

  “We’re going over to Doc Templeton’s when Tanner gets out of school. Sadie’s pups are weaned.”

  “I bet he’s over the moon.”

  “Yeah…till he gets pooper-scooper detail,” Ginny joked, then she canted her head and considered JJ

  for a long moment, adding, “You know…a puppy sure would make that big old house of yours a bit less lonely.”

  “Maybe I’ll go with you.” JJ chewed on the tip of her thumbnail. A puppy might be fun. Then she 269

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  thought of her wolf. How would he react? Hesitantly, she inquired, “Say…have you heard anything about…wild wolves in the area?”

  “Wolves?” Ginny’s tone was sharp, but she ducked her head, suddenly fascinated with eradicating a strip of dust from beneath the edge of the cash register. “Heavens, why would you be wondering about wolves?”

  “Well, I…I have one,” JJ admitted. Ginny’s fingers stilled, then she scrubbed at the dust line with renewed, fierce determination. “I mean, that is to say, I don’t necessarily have one. It’s just…there’s one in the woods near my place.” Ginny glanced up swiftly, her eyes piercing.

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “Actually…” Drawing a deep breath, JJ toyed with a tin can full of generic pens beside the register.

  “It sort of…comes to visit me on occasion.” She told Ginny of the incident with the bear, and of finding the wolf in the strange gathering place in the woods.

  By the time she’d finished her tale, she had Ginny’s undivided attention.

  And Ms. Potters as well.

  “What does this wolf look like?” G
inny frowned, rubbing absently at the wide leather watchband on her wrist.

  “Oh, he’s beautiful,” JJ blurted. “And big! I never realized they were so large up close. His coat is…well, it’s like honey, rich and golden, and so thick…amazingly soft,” JJ trailed off with a slight shake of her head. “He has the most unusual eyes…like emeralds.” Like Cam’s. She paused for a moment on that disconcerting thought before pushing on. “I didn’t know wolves could even have green eyes.”

  Ginny’s eyes had gone wide at JJ’s description.

  The corners of her mouth had begun to hitch upward. “His coat was golden, huh? With green 270

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  eyes—”

  “Oh, my dear, that’s not just any wolf you’re talking about. You’ve met one of them.” The nosy little old woman hobbled down the aisle in her tan, orthopedic shoes and her faded blue housedress.

  Short steel-wool hair clung to small pink curlers, haphazardly secured in place by a large, faded red handkerchief. Her cloudy, gray eyes were round with eager delight. “Green eyes, you say?”

  “Excuse me?” JJ cast a frowning glance at a curiously motionless Ginny. “One of them?”

  “One of the protectors, my dear,” Ms. Potter insisted adamantly.

  An image of Cam’s griffin tattoo flashed through JJ’s mind, his words filtered into her subconscious.

  Ferocious protectors, he’d said. JJ shook her head mystified. Ms. Potter nudged her horn-rimmed, rhinestone-studded glasses back up the bridge of her beak-like nose, and slung a coil of garden hose onto the counter with a pop of an arthritic hip. “Oh, that’s right…you’re new…probably haven’t heard…” Tight-lipped, Ginny hustled behind the counter, where she began ringing the sale up with astonishing speed. “Will that be all for you today, Ms. Potter?” She rushed on, not waiting for a response, “That comes to eight—”

  “Protectors, I say,” Ms. Potter insisted dramatically, ignoring Ginny as she warmed to her subject, “a whole pack of them.” Despite herself, JJ tilted her head and regarded the wizened woman with bemused curiosity. The poor old dear was clearly off her rocker. “A whole pack of what, ma’am?”

  Ms. Potter shot a suspicious glance over her shoulder, then she whispered conspiratorially,

  “Werewolves, my dear. Werewolves…” Ginny swore softly beneath her breath. JJ

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  believed a pack of Werewolves ran loose in the woods of Sutter Hollow. Not only did she believe, fanatically, but she seemed bent on making JJ

  believe as well.

  Werewolves! Imagine. Next she’d be insisting Vampires haunted the night, and Faeries and Leprechauns were real. Would she be offended if JJ

  offered her the name and number of a good shrink?

  Maybe she’d get a special discount or something for drumming up business for Dr. Greene.

  On a sudden spurt of motion and another muttered curse, Ginny ripped a plastic sack loose from below the counter. She crammed the hose inside the noisy bag and thrust the tangled mess at her persistent customer. “Here you go, Ms. Potter,” Ginny all but shouted, her teeth bared in nothing remotely close to a smile. “I’ll just run a tab for you, and you can take care of the bill later. JJ, I’m positively starving! Why don’t I close shop, and we can—”

  “Oh, you mustn’t listen to that craziness some people spout. They’re just superstitious old fools.

  They don’t know the truth.” Ms. Potter glowered, shaking her knobby finger at JJ. She slung an accusatory grimace in Ginny’s direction, adding,

  “The girl has a right to know, young lady…especially now.” Her shrewd eyes locked on JJ, and her whole demeanor changed, became almost reverent.

  “Fearless warriors protected the old Indian village that once occupied the woods near Sutter Hollow against an encroaching evil so vile it threatened to drain the village of its very life force.

  “Those warriors’ descendants roam our woods now, slipping into wolf form at will, ever watchful for evil’s return. They are ferocious protectors, possessive and loyal to their bones.” Ms. Potter bobbed her head knowledgeably, taking the bag from Ginny only to lay it down on the counter at her side.

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  Her gray eyes were piercing as she reached out a gnarled hand to clasp JJ’s wrist. “But you mustn’t be afraid, my dear. They are fiercely protective of their mates. Your protector will never harm you.” Her protector? Mates? What nonsense was this old woman spouting? Was she trying to tell JJ that her wolf was some kind of...of mutant beast? Some shape-shifting creature? Absurd. Her wolf was just that...a wolf. There wasn’t anything supernatural about him. He was a normal wolf.

  Just a very large…tame…wolf.

  No way was she going to mention she’d actually talked to the wolf, petted the wolf, wrestled with the wolf…or that it had licked her. What this batty old woman would make of that, JJ didn’t even want to know.

  “You’ve been blessed, it seems.” Ms. Potter’s voice was strangely worshipful, her eyes wandered to the side of JJ’s neck, lingering just at the bottom edge of JJ’s ear. JJ instinctively lifted her hand, smoothing her hair self-consciously along her neck.

  Why was the woman staring at her, at her neck like that?

  “Blessed?” The word whooshed from a wide-eyed Ginny, and her gaze swerved to JJ, widened further still. Then she compressed her lips, as if trying to prevent any other slippery words from sliding past her guard.

  “Blessed indeed,” Ms. Potter gushed. “Our young artist here has captured his heart, little Ginny.” She patted JJ’s forearm, smiling kindly. “Oh, this is wonderful news. He was such a lonely boy, lonely on the inside…where the others couldn’t see. You are just what he needs, dear.” She patted JJ’s forearm affectionately.

  Frowning, JJ narrowed her eyes and backed a half step away. “What who needs? What are you talking about?” The old woman wasn’t making any 273

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  sense, and JJ was baffled. “Captured whose heart?” Ginny couldn’t have flown from behind the counter faster than if someone had set the place on fire, catching Ms. Potter and her purchase up and propelling them toward the door with a pained grimace. JJ couldn’t quite catch the muttered words Ginny rasped into Ms. Potter’s ear. The whole situation, the entire conversation had been so bizarre, JJ could only stare.

  A half hour later—as Ginny all but shoved her from the diner—JJ was still just as lost. Perhaps more so. Things had seemed normal when they’d first arrived, but then suddenly—about the time JJ

  had swept her hair up into a ponytail, come to think of it—half the conversations in the diner hitched mid-stride. The other half ceased outright. She’d had more people stare at her in that last twenty minutes than she had the entire time she’d been in town…including her first morning there.

  What was with everyone anyway? You’d think they’d never seen anyone put in a hair-tie before.

  Strange as everyone else was behaving today, Maggie’s reaction had been the most bizarre of all.

  She’d come out from the kitchen to say hello as she always did. Halfway to their table, the ever-unshakable Maggie had gasped, skidded to a stop, and over-balanced a platter heaped with food. Her eyes had been as round as the saucers clattering on the floor, her mouth gaping open. She’d sputtered for a moment, then scurried over to JJ, hugging her like there was no tomorrow, gushing about how she was so pleased.

  Just that fast, Ginny had begun making a strange, strangling sound in the back of her throat.

  JJ strained to glance around Maggie to make sure she wasn’t choking on something, but by the time Maggie moved away, Ginny was dabbing at her lips with a napkin, eyes carefully averted. Maggie’d 274

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  backed up, a look of severe consternation creasing her smoke-weathered face, and planted fists to bony hips. “He’s a bloody, damned idiot.” Her declaration exploded through the
silent diner like a volley of cannon fire before Maggie tromped away to see to the spilled food.

  When JJ’d questioned Ginny, her evasive friend had begun twisting anxiously at the wide leather strap on her wrist, unable to make eye contact. Soon thereafter, Ginny had rushed JJ from the diner and sent her on her way home. Puzzled, muddling through the strange reaction in her mind, JJ glanced over her shoulder, unexpectedly catching Ginny as she snuck furtively across the street and ducked inside the sheriff’s department.

  JJ paused, eyes narrowed. Her teeth gnawed of the edge of her bottom lip. What in blue blazes was going on here?

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  Chapter 19

  JJ shuffled her feet as she paced up her drive.

  Her troubled gaze tracked the small pebble bouncing a few feet ahead of her as her stomach twisted uneasily. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Ginny was doing her damnedest to keep JJ in the dark about something, and Maggie—if not half the damned town—was in on the secret. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she tore the elastic band from her hair and thrust her hands deep in her pockets, jiggled her change.

  She’d never felt like an outsider in Sutter Hollow. Even that first morning, she’d felt—in some strange way—connected. She was definitely out of the loop on this one. The question remained…what did everyone else know that she didn’t?

  Why was Ginny being so cagey? Disappointment chewed at her. She’d really thought she’d found a good friend in Ginny. Obviously, she was going to need to re-evaluate. Digging the keys from her pocket, JJ rounded the side of the house. A dark shadow moved across the porch, down the steps, slamming her heart into the back of her throat. She leaped back, a raw scream clawed its way free.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” a gentle voice called out. Pale, thin hands thrust up in the space between them, empty palms out.

  As her heart hammered its way back down her throat, JJ stared hard at the man on the top step.

  His face was vaguely familiar, and, as it turned bright red with embarrassment, she finally remembered. Don…no, Doug. Doug something-or-276

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