Page 27 of The Vampire in the Potting Shed

“These aren’t Dad’s people.” I didn’t miss the flex of his jaw at the mention of my dad. “Who are they?”

“Jess, Mindy, and Rochele.” He ducked his head. “Jess is a vet tech, and Mindy and Rochele are both dog trainers for the police in Abbeville.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans. “Areyou comfortable with them, just for tonight, or would you rather have your own people put in place?”

“You just happened to have them on speed dial in the event of a hostile grooming takeover?”

“I’ve been in talks with your father for the right to claim Brentwood for the past year. I’m familiar with the town, and your business.” He rolled a shoulder. “I had concerns that the transition might go sideways, so I took the necessary steps to ensure your animals wouldn’t pay the price.”

The forethought set my skin prickling, but I couldn’t tell if I liked the sensation or not. I wasn’t sure what to make of him or how he had known it would come down to this, tome. And why he had been ready to take such extreme measures to accommodate someone he was booting out of town.

All the ways I could have used that year to prepare for this moment, to nail down my contingency plans, spun through my head. But I hadn’t known. No one had told me.Dadhadn’t told me.

“I appreciate it,” I murmured, still uncertain. “They can stay.” I glanced back at Sloane. “For tonight.”

With a cautious smile for me, the woman on the end, Jess, I think, herded the others back to the kennels where soon the comforting sounds of the closing routine rang out as if they had done it a hundred times before.

“We can use my office,” I decided, aware shifter ears would hear every word through its door anyway.

Gentleman kidnapper that he was, Rían said, “That works for me.”

“Freaking giraffe,” I grumbled again, ceding my chair to Rían. Not out of respect or deferment or any of those other polite reasons. No. I wasn’t sure the three of us would fit into the small room otherwise.

“Okay.” Wood groaned as he sat, and even the desk complained when he leaned forward, resting his forearms across it, as if that might lighten the load on the poor chair. “That’s twice now you’ve called me a giraffe.” He cocked his head, curious but not insulted. “Are you trying to guess my animal or…?”

“Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?” I claimed one of the client seats, and Sloane sat next to me. “You’re stupidly tall.” I gestured toward him. “You have a ridiculous amount of leg.”

A snort at my elbow turned into a cough, but Sloane was losing the battle against laughter.

Rían glanced down at his lap, at his tree-trunk thighs, and pushed out a sigh.

“I like being tall, my mom was tall, so I’m not going to apologize for hereditary traits.”

All of a sudden, I tasted foot in my mouth. Which was insane. Bowie kidnapped me. Brought me here to meet with this stranger. A stranger who was about to cost me my home and business.

“But—” he continued before I found a way to remove said foot, “—as someone who routinely bumps his head half a dozen times a day on doors, ceilings, and the interiors of cars, I will admit my height can be a lot.” His slow grin revealed bright-white teeth. “I like that you’ve already given me a pet name.”

“Um…”

“Here’s the thing.” He laced his fingers. “I don’t know how you feel about giraffes, sexually, but…” His moonlight eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “That came out wrong.”

“Thank God.” I laughed, and yeah, it sounded atadmanic. “I have no feelings about giraffes, sexually or otherwise. I would, quite frankly, be concerned for myself if I did.”

“Um.”

“That’s my line,” I prompted him, when he only examined the light fixture which could have done with a good dusting. “What’s yours? You do have non-giraffe reasons for bringing me here, right?”

“Yes.” He drew out the word, which wasn’t comforting whatsoever.

“Can you get to the point?” Sloane perched on the edge of her seat. “What do you want with Ana?”

That, at least, brought his attention swinging back to her, and the weight of his stare made her squirm.

“Ana and I are betrothed.” His shoulders bowed with the relief of getting out the words. “We have been since before we were born.” He spread his hands. “That’s why I wanted Brentwood.” He cleared his throat and held my widening stare. “And that’s why I want…you.”

“Sloane.” I fumbled for her hand. “I need you to dial 911. I’ve had a stroke. I wasn’t sure before, but it’s the real deal this time.” I dug my nails in. “I just hallucinated an entire conversation with a giraffe.”

“I don’t think sympathetic strokes are a thing, so unless I also need an ambulance, I think he’s serious.”

“Dad would have told me if he sold me off for a pack alliance.”

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