Chapter 1
Julia
A russet-colored tail twitches in my peripheral vision, and I stumble over the words in the children’s book I’m reading out loud to a rapt audience of preschoolers.
“Um…I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’llblowyour house down,” I say in my big-bad-wolf voice, trying to recover. While I pause a beat for the kids’ squeals and giggles to settle down, I takeanother peek at the tail-owner. I can only see his back, but he has cute, triangular ears on top of his head.
Yep, canine for sure. I wince at my choice of book. Living in Apple Grove, Oregon, where more than half the residents are non-human, I should be more sensitive about who is cast as the bad guy in my story time readings. In my current audience, there are little dragons and ogres, but tomorrow’s audience might include some baby wolfmen.
That can’t be what they call them. Are they pups? Cubs?
Ugh.I’m so ignorant. I know what I’m going to be researching after my shift.
Anyway, I don’t want any little ones who come to story time to only see their species portrayed as villains. That’s what I’m thinking about as I finish up the story and send the kids on their way with some cute piggy stickers.
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I freeze. It’s him. It’s got to be him. He’s going to (rightly) complain about my biased book selection and get me fired after only a few months on the job. My manager, a twenty-nothing-year-old named Brashleigh, is going to love this.
Ugh, what is wrong with me today?Ashleigh—her real name—is just fine. She’s patiently helped me learn the retail ropes after I spent twenty years out of the workforce while I raised my girls. Anyfrustration she has with my slow learning curve is probably justified. I’m just feeling extra perimenopausal today.
I put on a customer service smile and turn around, bracing to take his criticism, and come face to face with him. He’s standing way too close, and his nearness sends a rush of tingles down my spine. I have to tip my chin up to look him in the eyes. “Oh! Hi! Can I help you find something?”
The wolfman’s jaw drops as he stares down at me. I think he’s a wolfman, but his fur is reddish-orange. Orange enough to be a fox. Is he a Vulpine? In any case, he seems…surprised by my appearance.
Maybe he was expecting someone younger. Skinnier. Wearing an outfit that isn’t a tunic top I bought in a three-pack at SaveCo.
My face instantly heats up and my eyes start to water. My cheeks are probably bright red and blotchy. Today is just not my day.
To his credit, he recovers quickly. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m just…”
“Offended?” I flash a creaky smile at him. “It’s okay, I understand, and I’m really sorry. I’m going to review my story time schedule and make sure to choose less biased titles going forward. I just want you to know that it’s my mistake and not Dog-Eared Pages’ fault. They give me a lot of leeway to select the books.”
“No, no, no.” His golden-brown eyes widen as he clutches a picture book to his chest. His fingers wrapped around the edges of the cover aren’t what I expect. Instead of being furred and clawed like most wolfmen, they have tanned human skin. So do the muscular forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his denim work shirt, albeit they’re lightly furred with red hair. Is he awerewolf?
“The story was great!” he continues. “I mean…it was fine. But your reading was great. The way you did the voices.”
My cheeks get blotchier and blotchier as I replay my growly, big-bad-wolf voice in my head. This is so embarrassing. “I swear, I don’t think all wolves are bad!”
He chokes, turning away slightly. Oh god. What am I doing? I want to melt into the ivy-patterned carpet that velvets the bookstore aisles.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, sucking in a deep, hopefully calming breath through my nose. Oh, wow. He has on some kind of cologne that smells like cedarwood and—I sniff again like a weirdo—huckleberries. “If you want someone else to help you, I can call my manager over.”
He recovers. “No, I wantyou.”
We both freeze.
Now, it’s not just my cheeks. My whole body flushes at his implication. Or am I having a hotflash? Are we at that point in life now? It sure feels like it. Are my glasses fogging up? The big clock on the wall is ticking down the seconds until I expire.
“…to help me find some books,” he finishes slowly, saving us both.
“Oh.” I let my breath out in a rush and take a step back from him. Right. I’m at least ten years older than him, given that his muzzle doesn’t have any gray flecks yet. I’mmarried. There’s aring on my finger. He’s not interested in me like that, anyway. These midlife hormones are a trip. “Sure. What are you looking for?”
“My little brother is having a litter. I mean, his mate is. Four pups, three boys and a girl. Due in a few weeks.” He gives me a crooked grin and gestures to the shelves around us with the book in his hand. “I want to get them some books, but I’m a little lost.”
My awkward embarrassment fades. Books are my true love. The thing that has gotten me through all the tough stuff in life. Iknowbooks, especially children’s books. “You came to the right place,” I assure him. “Are you thinking picture books that adults will read to them, or more like…books they can play with and chew on?”
His ears perk up at the word “chew,” and his tail gives an adorable little wag. Board books it is. I lead him over to the right section, the shelves chock-full of chubby, baby-size books with cardboard pages. “These are all really sturdy. And even if they gnaw off a few corners, they’ll live.”
“Thanks.” He surveys the shelves for a few silent seconds and then shoots me a sideways glance. “Any recommendations? I love reading, but I don’t have pups. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
