Page 77 of Wishing for a Werewolf
“So.” He gestures with the bales. “I assume we’re doing more than just piling these in the field?”
“What? Oh, yes.” I snap out of my daze and gather up my blueprints for the hay maze.
We move out into the bright light of morning, the brilliant blue sky setting off the orange blaze of the trees at the edge of the pasture.
The werepuppies chase each other on the edge of the field, turning into a tumbling ball of flailing limbs whenever one of them pounces. They dash over. “Autumn! Where’s Babybelle? We want to play!”
“She’s visiting with the other goats. But I can get her in a bit.”
“Okay!” “Yes!” They dart back over to their play spot and immediately start to wrestle again.
“The hay maze should go in this general area.” I wave my hand to take in the flattest part of the field, which is near the gate to the barnyard. After spreading the blueprints out on the ground, I plant the first marker stake and have Rune stand beside it, holding one end of a tape measure. Then I walk, pacing out one of the outer sides of the maze and marking its other end. Once it’s done, the other werewolveslay the foundational layer of hay bales along the path we marked.
We continue like this until the entire maze spreads across the ground, only one bale high, which lets us catch small problems early. I trot through the maze one last time to check, then let the other werewolves start building the walls higher.
“We need to get the rest of the hay from the milking barn.” I point to where it’s a dark smudge on the other side of the farm.
“That’s a long way to run.” Rune frowns.
I lift an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re not up for it?”
“I can run all day.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a deep growl. “Would you like me to prove it?”
Anticipation shivers across my skin at the promise in his voice, making the little hairs on my body stand straight up. “Nope, I believe you,” I say, my voice breathless. I clear my throat and try to sound more normal. “I was just teasing. There’s a small trailer the tractor can pull. We can do it in two trips.”
“Let’s go.”
I take off at a slow jog, having worn sneakers for the day’s work, and Rune lopes easily along by my side, clearly holding back.
Then he lets me pull ahead. The sound of his footfalls behind me, the knowledge that he’s back there, running after me, giving chase…
Electricity shoots through my body, my heart racing. I start running faster, and I can hear him pick up his pace to match. Oh, god. All I can think of is our chase. I shiver withneed. This shouldn’t feel so sexy, should it?
Eff that kind of talk, horny Autumn purrs in my mind. Sexy is whatever you find sexy, and if you like a bit of primal chase, there’s nothing wrong with that.
My cheeks heat as I remember the other night: Rune chasing me through the woods, his large body wrapped around mine from behind as he—
The gate to the south pasture brings my legs and my whirling thoughts to an abrupt halt. I fumble with the goat-proof latch, same as I always do when I’m flustered.
Rune steps close, his huge hand wrapping over mine to work the latch. He’s not touching me anywhere else, but I can feel his presence all down my back. He growls my name, his voice full of longing, and for a hot second I don’t care if this is all a spell or if anyone sees us. I don’t care about anything but the need to move backward, grind my butt against him, and feel him harden with an answering desire.
“I’m here!” Babybelle races over in a series of bounding hops, Mozzarella following her. “Me! Me! Me!”
“Hi there, sweetie!” I lean over to give her some pets, grateful for the distraction, so one of my parents doesn’t find me humping Rune’s leg. “Do you want to come and play with Astrid and Agnar?”
“Yes!”
More of the goats trot over. Cheddar, always the bravest of the girls, nuzzles against Rune’s pockets, looking for treats.
“That’s Cheddar and Gouda and Edam.” I point out each goat as we walk past them. “And Brie and Havarti. And the little white ball of floof is Mozzarella.”
Rune laughs, the sound rich and wonderful andsomething he definitely needs to do more. “They’re all named after cheese. Who did this?”
“Guilty.” I hold up a hand. “I started doing it when I was little, and it’s become something of a farm tradition by now. No regrets.”
“You really love cheese.” His lips twitch.
“Always have. Always will.”
