Page 32 of Snowed In with an Incubus

Jaz nodded. The house was packed. Middle-aged minotaurs were having a drinking contest in the corner. Tammy was carrying hermermaid wife around while her wife’s wheelchair sat in the corner. Fae fluttered at the top of a bookcase, handing down booksto their friends. There was enough body heat to warm a castle, let alone Reg’s humble house. With the heater on, things weredownright toasty.

Jaz leaned in, lips touching his ear. “Okay. I’ll cut you a little slack about not coming here with your horns out. That looks inconvenient.”

She pointed over at the kitchen doorway where a chimera was chatting to someone while a human man tried to squeeze behindhis wings. The wings were winning, with the guy pressed flat between the chimera’s feathers and the door as he struggled.Finally, the guy tapped the chimera’s shoulder, and the chimera immediately leaped out of the way with a stream of apologies.

“Bulky,” Sam agreed.

“Hard to fit in elevators, I bet,” she said. She held up a daintily curved hand, like a Victorian woman being asked to dance.“To the drinks?”

“To the drinks.” He took her hand. Then, before he could reconsider it, he pulled her closer and slid his arm around her waist.

“Keeping you out of the way of stray wings,” he explained when she gave him a startled grin.

They shuffled through the crowd and into the kitchen. The chimera still had his wings tucked in, so it wasn’t that much of a squeeze, but Jaz stepped closer anyway. Sam tilted his nose into her hair, inhaling his own shampoo.

He grabbed one of the last beers. Jaz mixed herself a vodka and orange juice, which she then informed him was called a screwdriver.

“I always wondered,” he said as they lingered in the corner of the kitchen. There was a dance floor in the living room; hecould hear it from here. But he didn’t head there yet. He wanted to stay here a little longer, alone in their tiny world withhis arm around her waist.

She sipped her screwdriver. “So! Any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Not really a resolution kind of guy,” he admitted. “You?”

She sighed. “Ugh, where do I start? Find somewhere to live. Get a new job. Get a new gym—I can’t believe I paid the whole year upfront at my old one and I still have months left.”

Reg appeared beside her, wings scraping the ceiling. His grin was loose, an arm coming up to sling around Sam’s shoulder.

“Heeey,” he said, then paused as he almost punched Jaz in the face. “Shit. Didn’t realize you guys were so cozy. Sorry, Jaz!”

Jaz laughed. Sam resisted the urge to slap him right in the shrimp tattoo.

“Heard something about a job,” Reg continued, dropping his arm from Sam’s shoulders. “My buddy Oliver, here—”

“Buddy Oliver where,” Sam asked icily.

“He’s—” Reg frowned, twisting to scan the room. “OLIVER! Where’d that furry bastard get to?”

Oliver Musgrove sidled up, a light beer in his hand. There was nothing about him that hinted that this scowly, dark-hairedman was a werewolf. Unless you were a monster, too, and could smell the telltale scent of the wolf on him.

“Oliver here needs a receptionist,” Reg explained, grabbing Oliver around the shoulders instead. Oliver, who was famouslynot a touchy-feely guy unless you were part of his pack, barely reacted. Maybe Reg was better friends with Oliver than Samthought.

“The inn needs a receptionist,” Oliver explained, looking uncharacteristically calm about getting grabbed and shoved up againstan incubus’s side. Maybe marriage really had changed Oliver and made him more like the rest of his family. Werewolves werevery physically affectionate. Every time Sam had seen the Musgroves out, they were all over each other. Hugging, shoving,and nuzzling each other absentmindedly. Sam always had to look away, embarrassed. It was fine for the kids to nuzzle, butit was another thing to watch the aunts do it in the checkout line at the grocery store.

“I’m Oliver Musgrove,” Oliver said to Jaz. “I own Musgrove Inn with my wife, Luna.”

“Jaz,” Jaz replied, grabbing his extended hand and pumping it with enthusiasm. “And that’s great! I was actually voted bestreceptionist at my last job, but I’m looking for something in Chicago.”

“Damn,” Oliver said flatly. “Never mind, then. What’s in Chicago?”

“Friends,” Jaz said. “Family. My whole life. I moved to Alaska for a boyfriend, but that fell apart pretty spectacularly. He was sleeping with my coworker.”

“Damn,” Oliver repeated, looking around like he wanted to leave the conversation but was forcing himself to stay. “That sucks.”

Jaz beamed. “But it led me here, so it all worked out! I got a tattoo! Ended up stuck with this one when the power went outlast night.”

She clinked her glass into Sam’s beer, but he was so distracted glaring at Reg that he didn’t even get to clink back. Whatwas Reg doing, dragging Oliver over here and telling Jaz about jobs in Claw Haven? She was leaving tomorrow. As soon as the roads cleared,she was out. Back to her life. Her real life. Starting over, back in Chicago. Friends. Family. My whole life. She wasn’t going to put that aside because she got stuck overnight with a tattoo artist. No matter how memorable it was.No matter that he didn’t want her to go. Not when she’d shaken his life up like this. She couldn’t just change him and leave, never to be seen again.

His hand tightened around her waist.