She took one look at my face and backed toward the door. “Gotta go. Duty calls. Criminals to catch, yada, yada.”
“Coward!” I called after her, but she was already gone.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “What was that about?”
“Who knows?” I gave the ball—now perfectly clear and empty again—a dirty look and then leaned over and put my elbows on the counter. “What do you mean, pack? And leave? Today? You’re not getting out of the father-daughter dance that easy. Shelley will hunt you down like a … tiger.”
Since Jack was one of the few existing tiger shapeshifters in the world, as far as we knew, a lot of tiger puns showed up in conversation.
My adopted little sister had lost her mom and grandparents. Just before Christmas, she’d asked Jack to stand in at the school dance for the father she’d never known. Jack had promised a sparkly dress for her and a sparkly tuxedo for himself, much to the rest of the family’s amusement.
“The dance is Saturday. It’s only Monday. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“You might be gone all week,” I said slowly. “What should I do if a severed body part shows up? Again?”
This was a real possibility, sadly.
His distracted frown turned into a slow, deliberate smile. “Are you saying you’re going to miss me, Tess?”
He prowled toward me with the casual grace of the jungle cat he was in his other form. I sighed and enjoyed the view—Jack was worth watching. He was six feet, four inches of hard-muscled deliciousness. Wavy bronze hair curled around his strong face, framing the brilliantly green eyes and sensual lips. He wore a green flannel shirt I’d bought him with his jeans and boots and looked better than any supermodel wearing designer clothes ever could.
Of course, I was madly in love with him, which maybe meant I was biased.
I laughed and shook my head.
“What’s funny?” he murmured, pulling me close.
“I knew you were gorgeous before I ever fell in love with you, so it’s an objective truth.” I snuggled closer and put my arms around his waist. He smelled like soap and home and happiness to me, and I wished I could stay right there for an hour or two.
I looked up at him and saw the flush of embarrassment that happened every time I told him he was beautiful. Jack wasnota vain guy.
“Wait.” I stepped back. “Don’t distract me. Where are you going? Why are you going?”
“First, this.” He gently took my face in his hands and kissed me until I almost forgot what we’d been talking about.
Then my elbow bumped into the crystal ball, and it all came rushing back.
“Stop! Jack. Stop kissing me and tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay. Okay. I ran into a vampire … well. A villainous vampire, shall we say? In Sedona some years ago. He has since reformed his ways and needs help. Since I promised a friend I’d show up ifheever needed help, and he’s working with the vampire, who’s in love with the witch, and she got kidnapped by the—”
I thumped my head against his chest. “Jack. Stop. Please, for the love of my tired morning brain, just stop. Of course, go help your friend and his vampire and his … whatever.”
“I—”
I grinned at him. “Also, Villainous Vampire would be a great name for a rock band.”
The chimes above my door tinkled and my first customers of the day walked into the shop. I glanced at the clock on the wall to confirm it was nine o’clock—the clock shaped like a teddy bear, not the one built into the breastplate of a bronze gladiator sculpture. When you paid too much attention to the gladiator, he was prone to shouting “Spartacus!” in his little metal voice and attacking the taxidermied squirrels until his clockworks ran down.
Maybe they didn’t have a lot of squirrels in ancient Rome?
Anyway, customers didn’t like to buy stuffed squirrels with tiny sword holes in their clothing (the squirrels’ clothing, not the customers, although I suppose that would be bad, too), so we all ignored the tiny Thracian as much as possible.
“Hey, Ollie,” I called out. “Long time no see! How’s the nursery?”
Oleander—nickname Ollie—Gardner was the eldest son of the hippie goblin couple who had bought Dead End Nursery. Nursery as in plants, not kids. He was also a terrific lead guitarist in their folk band. Susan had gone out with him once or twice but said the laid-back hippie thing was too much for her.
“Too bad,” she’d said wistfully. “He looks like a rock star and is one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.”
