Page 112 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

Then I went into my house and headed straight for the shower.

I’d soaped up and begun washing my hair when something hit the bathroom door.

BUMP.

“Hey,” I yelled, “I’m in here. If it’s an emergency, head over to Ida’s. She’s got two bathrooms.”

BUMP. BUMP.BUMP!

I wrapped a towel around myself and threw open the door. Poked my head out and yelled, “What’s the damned emergen—Ronan?”

“This guy broke down the front door,” Ida said. “Guess he doesn’t want to be separated from you.”

I looked from her to the enormous wolf who was seated almost primly in front of the bathroom door, tail gently swishing back and forth, a sprig of lavender in his mouth.

“When did you get here?” The question was directed at Ida.

“About an hour ago,” she replied. “You strolled right past me when you came in, didn’t say a word.”

“I was a little distracted.” I accepted the lavender from Ronan’s wolf and held it to my nose. “Thank you for the gift—you’re definitely paying for the door, though.”

“I bet you were distracted,” Ida said. “Earlier, I poked my head into the garden room and saw you laid out on the floor with the wolf, naked as a jaybird, and decided it was none of my business.”

“Nothing happened. I mean, except that I healed him.”

“Right.” She winked. “There are buttered biscuits warming in the oven—though it sounds like maybe your biscuit got buttered last night, and yay for you, because I know it’s been a while?—”

“Ida, damn it.”

She laughed. “Brought over a new jar of Trini’s blackberry jam, too. Do you want me to call the lumber place outside La Paloma and see if we can have a new door delivered?”

“Hold off on that. I don’t want anyone non-essential on the property right now. I’ve got some supplies in the back closet of the garden room. When Ronan comes back to himself,hecan get to work fixing it.” I glared down at the wolf, who was now refusing to meet my gaze. “Knock, next time,” I told him.

“To be fair, he did knock. Just with his head. Real hard.” Ida stared down at Ronan when he snuffled her hand. “You want a biscuit? Come into the kitchen, and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

He shook his head and gazed up at me with puppy-dog eyes.

“Guess he prefers your biscuits,” Ida said with a wink and a grin. She strode toward the door, calling over her shoulder, “See you later. I need to check on Meredith. She gets cranky if I’m gone too long.”

I stepped out of the bathroom, knotting my towel a little tighter. “Wait. Where are Margaux, Bronwyn, and Maya?”

“They left early this morning. There’s a note on the kitchen table. Something about needing to check on things. They seemed to think they’d be okay, since that ex-husband of hers is pushing up daisies now.”

“I guess they’re safe, relatively speaking. Since it seems Mason Hartman owes the witches for something or other—that stays between us three, by the way.”

“I’m not telling anyone anything. You know me.” She made a zipping gesture over her mouth. “I’m the picture of discretion.”

“That was a doozy of a lie, Ida Summer. You better hope there aren’t any storm clouds in the sky right now. You might get struck.”

She laughed and walked out, shutting what was left of my mangled front door.

I looked at the bathroom then at Ronan’s wolf. “Come on,” I said. “I’ve still got shampoo in my hair. I’ll feed you some biscuits after I finish my shower—Ida’s biscuits, not mine.”

He huffed out a growly grunt and followed me into the small room, plopping down on the rug in front of my sink.

“Shift back to human and maybe I’ll give you some of mine, too.”

What wasit about the scent of coffee that just made everything feel like it was going to be all right?

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