Werewolf in Seattle: A Wild About You Novel (4 page)

He looked out the front door, which was still open. “It’s nearly happy hour, although I suppose if the sun doesn’t set until after nine these days, happy hour could be anytime from now until then.”

“Janet could fix us some food to take along if you’re getting hungry.” That would be a good idea, regardless. She didn’t want a tipsy Were on her hands.

“Food would be nice,” he said. “Just sandwiches, something simple.”

“I’ll pack a light dinner,” Janet said. “How soon do you want it to be ready?”

Colin glanced at his watch. “An hour?”

“That’s fine.” Janet nodded. “I’ll bring a basket to Geraldine’s sitting room. The wet bar’s there.”

“I remember.” A smile flitted across his face. Then he glanced at Luna. “Does that work for you?”

“Of course. I’ll be in Geraldine’s sitting room in an hour with a martini shaker and a basket of food.”

“Make sure to bring two glasses. I hate to drink alone.”

“All right.”

Colin turned to Hector. “Ready?”

“Been ready.” Hector started toward the curving marble staircase, and Colin followed.

Luna stayed in the hallway with Dulcie, Sybil, and Janet as Colin carried his suitcase up the stairs. He looked about as wonderful from the back as he did from the front.

After they disappeared down the corridor, Dulcie was the first to break the silence. “Oh, baby.” She packed a wealth of appreciation into those two words.

Luna couldn’t agree more, but she wasn’t about to say so. “Thanks for not responding to Hector’s remark about the condition of the room. Colin may be the closest thing to family he has left.”

“That’s true,” Janet said. “Whittier House has been Hector’s whole life.”

“He’s still a pain in the rear, but I’ll lay off for now.” Dulcie put her hand on her heart and sighed dramatically. “Because any friend of Colin’s is a friend of mine.”

“You might as well give up that project, Dulcie,” Sybil said. “He only has eyes for our Southern belle here.”

Heat swept through Luna. “That’s not true!”

“Yeah, it is.” Janet gave her a knowing look.

“Don’t count me out yet,” Dulcie said.

Janet slung an arm around Dulcie’s shoulders. “Sorry, old girl. Luna has the inside track on this one. And it’s about time our little magnolia blossom had some romance in her life.”

Luna’s pulse skyrocketed at Janet’s implication, but she shook her head and adopted a businesslike tone. “Not happening. Too much at stake.”

“But, sweetie,” Janet said. “That’s exactly why you
should seduce that beautiful Were. The male of the species tends to mellow out after good sex. A roll in the hay might tip the scales in your favor.”

Both the subject and her lack of experience caused her face to flame. “I don’t think so. I’m not… great at that kind of thing.”

Dulcie grinned at her. “I wouldn’t worry about it, toots. Something tells me he is.”

Colin had dreaded walking into Whittier House now that Geraldine was gone, but it hadn’t been too bad thanks to Luna Reynaud. Yes, her wavy dark hair, fair skin, and wide green eyes would capture any male’s attention, but it wasn’t her beauty that had lifted his heavy heart. It was her endearing lack of sophistication.

He could see immediately why Geraldine had hired her. Earnest sincerity was a quality his aunt had prized, and Luna had that, plus a subtle vulnerability that inspired his protective instincts. He had no doubt Luna had taken excellent care of Geraldine, but Geraldine had probably mothered Luna more than a little bit.

It was obviously a happy household, even in grief. He’d felt better the minute he’d heard laughter coming from behind the closed door. He’d known from Hector’s scowl that the groundskeeper disapproved of laughter at a time like this. But Colin had been pathetically grateful for that first glimpse of Luna’s smiling face when he’d opened the door. She’d banished the shadows he’d expected to find and had replaced them with sunshine.

Next time he saw her, he’d ask what they’d been laughing about. He liked knowing that Geraldine had continued to surround herself with cheerful people. The one exception was Hector, who had always been on the grumpy side, even fifteen years ago.

“So everyone’s new except you, then,” he said as they headed toward the room at the end of the corridor, the same one Colin had been given as a teenager.

“Luna’s new. The others have all been here about ten years, I guess.”

“And she’s been here less than a year? She seems to fit right in, and to be a good sort.”

Hector didn’t respond.

Colin glanced at him. “You don’t like her?”

“It’s not a matter of like or don’t like. She’s hiding something. I’d take bets on it.”

“Such as?”

“Not sure.”

“Apparently my aunt trusted her.”

“Yeah.”

Colin had a sudden thought. Hector’s nose could be out of joint if he’d expected to be part of scattering the ashes. “Listen, Hector, would you like to go with me down to Happy Hour Beach? I can tell Luna to skip it—”

“Hell, no. I’m glad to have you two take care of it. Not my thing. Anyway, we’re here.” He gestured for Colin to go ahead of him into the bedroom at the end of the hall. “Let’s get you settled.”

Tabling the subject of Luna for now, Colin walked into the room Geraldine had chosen for him on his first visit. In the far right corner, a spiral metal staircase led to a trapdoor that opened onto the crenellated tower above. No teenager could resist a feature like that, and somehow she’d known, despite having no children herself.

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. 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 decor 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.

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 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 routed 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 mantel and slid away again.

“Sounds like the right move to me.” She screwed the lid on the cocktail shaker and tucked it into an insulated carrier Geraldine had bought expressly for trips to Happy Hour Beach. Besides a thermos for ice, 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 plan to have only 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 his 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.