shrugged her shoulders. “My goddaughter, sometimes she’s a bit fey.”
Joie caught their eyes with a smile. She and Tante Kay laughed, then Malcolm chuckled softly as they sat down to the dinner table.
* * * * *
After dinner, a knock at the door had Slade tensing until the old woman grabbed her bag. She hugged her goddaughter, but Slade heard her whisper, “You be careful now, child. Malcolm’s a good boy, but he’s got heat too.”
Heat? Old woman, you don’t know what heat is. Slade’s thoughts ranged from anger at her warning to amusement. If he desired something, nothing would stop him from taking. He looked at Joie through narrowed eyes. He wanted her, but he didn’t know if it would be worth the time. He sniffed. Damn lilacs.
“I’ll help with the dishes.” He didn’t know what else to say, but in the back of his mind he knew it was the polite thing to do. It had been so long since he’d had to be polite that he didn’t know for sure if he could still do it.
Her look of surprise notified him that she thought him to be some kind of barbarian. The arrow of anger that shot through him startled him. What do I care what she thinks of me? She’s just a human. Just a damn human who smells so good she makes me ache.
“Yeah, I’m fully capable, sweetheart. If I promise not to break a glass, will you sit on the porch with me after? I have some questions.”
She measured him for a moment with her head cocked to the left. He watched her curls tumble into place as he waited for her answer.
“Yes.” A small nod accompanied the word. Then she handed him a glass to rinse.
They worked in a companionable silence until the last cast-iron skillet had been dried on the stove. Joie grabbed a pair of clean glasses, filled them with sweet tea and headed out to the porch.
“Coming?”
Slade took a moment to give himself a good shake, head to toe. He remembered his thoughts in wolf form about her last night. And he reiterated under his breath, “Not yet.”
He slid out the door. Joie sat in the porch swing with her feet tucked under her. Her smile warmed him. Maybe she had forgiven him for his bluntness this afternoon. Then he realized she’d shifted her legs so that there wasn’t room for him. So much for that idea.
Slade lowered himself to the porch to lean against one of the roof supports. The wood still held the heat of the day. It felt good sinking into his body. Most of his aches had gone, but the few that remained were good ones.
“So, how long have you lived here?” Good opening question, wolf man. Can’t go wrong with that.
“Nine months. I’ve been home nine months. What about you? Where do you call home?”
Slade heard something in her voice, but couldn’t define it. And he didn’t want to answer questions about himself either. Damn humans. They always had to know more than they needed to.
“Here and there. I’ve called a lot of places home.”
Her eyes caught the fading sun as she turned to look at him. “You must have traveled a lot. Was your family military?”
He thought about the man who’d been his “family” after his folks had died. Yeah, he’d been military, retired, and a total bastard. His mother’s sister hadn’t wanted to take him in when his parents died. She’d lived in fear of her drunken, abusive husband discovering her family’s “dirty little secret”.
With Slade in the house, he’d gained someone else to knock around. What should he say to Joie? Should he tell her about the belt or the fists? Should he tell her how often they moved because the neighbors complained about the noise from the beatings? Would it shock her? Silence seemed to be his best option. Still, the short answer never hurt.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
Joie nodded, but didn’t say anything else. The cicadas started their incessant humming, while the tree frogs provided a percussive tenor to the night music. They sat watching the sun slowly take the evening light across the
Joie caught their eyes with a smile. She and Tante Kay laughed, then Malcolm chuckled softly as they sat down to the dinner table.
* * * * *
After dinner, a knock at the door had Slade tensing until the old woman grabbed her bag. She hugged her goddaughter, but Slade heard her whisper, “You be careful now, child. Malcolm’s a good boy, but he’s got heat too.”
Heat? Old woman, you don’t know what heat is. Slade’s thoughts ranged from anger at her warning to amusement. If he desired something, nothing would stop him from taking. He looked at Joie through narrowed eyes. He wanted her, but he didn’t know if it would be worth the time. He sniffed. Damn lilacs.
“I’ll help with the dishes.” He didn’t know what else to say, but in the back of his mind he knew it was the polite thing to do. It had been so long since he’d had to be polite that he didn’t know for sure if he could still do it.
Her look of surprise notified him that she thought him to be some kind of barbarian. The arrow of anger that shot through him startled him. What do I care what she thinks of me? She’s just a human. Just a damn human who smells so good she makes me ache.
“Yeah, I’m fully capable, sweetheart. If I promise not to break a glass, will you sit on the porch with me after? I have some questions.”
She measured him for a moment with her head cocked to the left. He watched her curls tumble into place as he waited for her answer.
“Yes.” A small nod accompanied the word. Then she handed him a glass to rinse.
They worked in a companionable silence until the last cast-iron skillet had been dried on the stove. Joie grabbed a pair of clean glasses, filled them with sweet tea and headed out to the porch.
“Coming?”
Slade took a moment to give himself a good shake, head to toe. He remembered his thoughts in wolf form about her last night. And he reiterated under his breath, “Not yet.”
He slid out the door. Joie sat in the porch swing with her feet tucked under her. Her smile warmed him. Maybe she had forgiven him for his bluntness this afternoon. Then he realized she’d shifted her legs so that there wasn’t room for him. So much for that idea.
Slade lowered himself to the porch to lean against one of the roof supports. The wood still held the heat of the day. It felt good sinking into his body. Most of his aches had gone, but the few that remained were good ones.
“So, how long have you lived here?” Good opening question, wolf man. Can’t go wrong with that.
“Nine months. I’ve been home nine months. What about you? Where do you call home?”
Slade heard something in her voice, but couldn’t define it. And he didn’t want to answer questions about himself either. Damn humans. They always had to know more than they needed to.
“Here and there. I’ve called a lot of places home.”
Her eyes caught the fading sun as she turned to look at him. “You must have traveled a lot. Was your family military?”
He thought about the man who’d been his “family” after his folks had died. Yeah, he’d been military, retired, and a total bastard. His mother’s sister hadn’t wanted to take him in when his parents died. She’d lived in fear of her drunken, abusive husband discovering her family’s “dirty little secret”.
With Slade in the house, he’d gained someone else to knock around. What should he say to Joie? Should he tell her about the belt or the fists? Should he tell her how often they moved because the neighbors complained about the noise from the beatings? Would it shock her? Silence seemed to be his best option. Still, the short answer never hurt.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
Joie nodded, but didn’t say anything else. The cicadas started their incessant humming, while the tree frogs provided a percussive tenor to the night music. They sat watching the sun slowly take the evening light across the
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