Page 16 of Good Luck Charm for the Wolf

Mostly from a certain know-it-all Bear.

Still, he’s not wrong.

I roll my neck, still trying to shake off the residual creep factor clinging to me after Mrs. Goyle, a real life Bad Witch and my former client from hell, left Pizza Girls a few minutes earlier.

Uncle Uzzi worked his matchmaking magic and got her to kind of agree to lift the curse.

Kind of.

Instead of straight-up removing the bad luck hex, she amended it.

Now, if I didn’t put myself out there and trust the Fates to hook me up, my already shitty luck would come back times ten.

Yeah. Fantastic. Exactly what I wanted.

Magically mandated dating.

Awesome.

“Trust the Fates.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“You won’t understand the pain you’ve caused unless you find love yourself!”

It’s so unfair! I mean, I don’t want to fall in love with anyone.

Being a Lone Wolf means not trusting anyone but yourself.

No Pack.

No doting mate.

No family to nag me about settling down or bringing side dishes to Sunday dinner.

Just me, my PI gigs, and a serious addiction to late-night diner milkshakes.

I sure do love me a good black and white milkshake! And no, it’s not the same as a chocolate shake, you peasant!

Okay, so, yeah, sometimes it’s a little lonely.

Especially when guys like Horace sit around getting doted on by their mates while I’m basically the mascot for Single and Cursed Anonymous.

But whatever. That’s life.

“Stop scratching,” Horace snaps.

I freeze, one hand halfway to my neck.

“Was I scratching? I wasn’t scratching.”

His unimpressed glare says otherwise.

Fine. Maybe I was.

A little.

But honestly, how am I supposed to chill when my skin still feels like it’s hosting a demon mosquito rave?

---