Page 36 of Relics of the Wolf

“No, that wasn’t confusing in the least.” He smiled roguishly and squeezed me before stepping back.

Damn if I didn’t like that squeeze and want to shift closer again. But another howl came from the driveway, and I refrained.

“I’ll take you home.” Duncan picked up his magic detector and tool kit, and led me down one of the paths heading toward his van. “Unless you’d like to drive back to that pond, where only the beavers would be witness, and test the firmness of my mattress?”

“I would not.” That might have been a lie, but since he didn’t have that lie detector, I felt safe in asserting it. “Beavers are notorious gossips. And you… are still being evasive with me.”

“I know.” He sounded sad about it, but that feeling, if genuine, didn’t prompt him to share any more about himself. He merely opened the passenger door for me.

“Thanks.”

As Duncan turned the van around and drove toward the road, no wolves were visible. My senses told me that some were watching us, though, making sure we left.

For a fleeting moment, it crossed my mind that if I found Mom’s medallion and returned it, the family might think more kindly toward me. They mightacceptme once more. But if she hadn’t told anyone, and I could return it before the others found out, she would be the only one to know I’d retrieved it. That was okay. That would be enough. Let the feelings of the family toward me be as they would.

“I don’t trust that trouble isn’t going to come after you again,” Duncan said, his thoughts on other topics. “I want to stay in your parking lot tonight in case you need help.”

“Or in case I get randy and call you to my bedroom?”

“Is that a possibility?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? I haven’t noticed any gossipy beavers in that area.”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, but you won’t object if I stay close?”

“You’ll find out if you wake up with a tow truck attaching chains to your van.”

He snorted. “As long as the tires don’t get slashed again.”

“I wish those guyswouldshow up and attack so we could capture them and force them to tell us what the deal is, but… I don’t have anything left for them to steal. I doubt I’ll see them again.”

“I was thinking more of your cousins. I don’t think they’re done with you.”

If Augustus knew the medallion he wanted his wife to inherit had been stolen, he might have been done with me, but I wouldn’t speak of what my mom had told me in confidence, not with my relatives and definitely not with Duncan.

“You can stay,” I told him. “In the parking lot.”

“Of course, my lady.” He made a hat-tipping gesture at me as he turned the van onto the pavement of the road heading back to town. “I’ll pine for you from afar.”

By the light of the dashboard, his gaze was more intent than teasing, and a longing crept into me, a wondering of what might have happened in the woods if my family hadn’t shown up.

Nothing, I told myself firmly. I wasn’t going to sleep with a man I couldn’t trust. Not again.

11

I shoveledsnow from the walkways leading to the parking lot with more vigor than the activity required. It was not, I assured myself, sexual frustration. I was way too old to have hormones that had hissy fits over denied passions.

“Tell that to last night’s dreams,” I muttered with a big shove.

Sweat dampened my clothes under my jacket. Two inches had fallen during the night, a rare occurrence in Seattle, especially before the official start of winter. The forecast promised temperatures would melt it by midday, but I always hurried to shovel the snow when it came, not wanting any of the tenants to slip and be hurt. I’d risen before dawn to sand the parking lot.

At least the work had given me time to think, to think and scheme. An idea was percolating in my mind. I was tempted to run it past Duncan. I looked over at his van parked in the corner of the lot, snow covering the roof and obscuring the windows. But his ongoing evasiveness made me reluctant to confide in him. As I’d been thinking the day before, it would be a good idea to find the artifacts without him at my side.

Bolin’s G-Wagon rolled into the lot, its lack of snow and frost promising it had spent the night in a cozy garage. Therewasa splotch of bird poop on the windshield, something left behind from work the day before presumably. I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or puzzled that the feathered locals had it out for that vehicle.

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