Moon Glamour by Aimee Easterling (books to read to be successful TXT) 📕

step...and my phone chirped. As if someone was close enough to see I was about to leave and, only then, chose to contact me.

“You’re being paranoid,” I muttered.

But when I looked at the screen, the text had come from an unknown number. “Something came up.”

“Marina?” I typed back, peering out at the street as best I could without raising my head and making it obvious I thought she was watching.

A couple strolled past arm-in-arm. Multiple busy cafes and restaurants boasted full views of the museum. My boss could be anywhere, or nowhere.

Meanwhile, her answer was fast but vague. “I’ll be in touch.”

I waited a solid minute, expecting further explanation. But nothing else came through after that.

Eventually, I put away my phone, stretching and turning for one more view of my surroundings. There were too many people present to tell whether one was a watcher for Marina. And the longer I hung out here, the more likely I was to run into another werewolf.

You won this round, Marina, I admitted. Still, I’d learned something in the process.

My employer was testing me and I’d passed. I’d passed...even if it was at the expense of my self esteem.

THE PRIVATE CAMPGROUND was dark by the time I rolled back up the drive. Giggles from the girls’ cabin promised that Harper was fine, but everyone else seemed to have followed Lupe’s advice and turned in early.

I did my best to park exactly where I’d found the convertible, then I debated whether to return the keys. Perhaps if I left them on the leather seat, Butch might think he’d made a mistake and forgotten to place them on his tree shelf? The chance of me sneaking into Butch’s cabin with him present seemed halfway between zero and zilch.

My ankle wasn’t the only reason I winced as I wavered between the car and Butch’s cabin. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. Wasn’t used to working around people I’d have to eat breakfast with the next morning. Or to having my sister a hundred yards away from the crime scene.

Each step now sent a spike of pain through my ankle. Each thought of Harper sent a similar spike of pain through my gut.

I shouldn’t have brought her here. I should have found another way to....

The scent of approaching fur warned me one second before a hand clamped down over my mouth.

Chapter 18

A second hand gripped my arm, hard, unyielding. I was silenced and I was caught.

But I wasn’t vanquished. Adrenaline pushed away pain and exhaustion. Raising my good foot, I prepared to slam the heel into my attacker’s kneecap. Then I crumpled as my weak ankle rejected being asked to hold my weight.

I was falling...then I wasn’t. The hand that had covered my mouth gripped my waist instead. I found myself tucked against Tank’s torso while he breathed into my ear.

“What exactly have you been up to?”

Relief made me snarky. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

But Tank wasn’t listening. Instead, he maneuvered me into the convertible so skillfully my ankle didn’t twinge once. Slipping the keys out of my hand and into the ignition, he lowered the top then tilted back my seat so he could elevate my foot.

Fingers skimmed across my ankle bone, their gentle touch devoid of any annoyance. So maybe I’d misunderstood his question? The hand over my mouth, I now realized, was intended to silence any startled emoting. Tank had prevented me from blowing my cover to the nearby werewolves.

“Relax,” he murmured, his massaging fingers backing up the suggestion. And I did. Sinking back into the seat leather, I gazed up into the sky.

The expanse was full of stars I couldn’t name, just like my body was full of equally unfamiliar sensations. Like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. All swirls of color and utter confusion, yet so engrossing I never wanted this moment to stop.

But it did. Tank’s fingers released me at the same moment his words brought me back to reality. “Your ankle isn’t worse, but it will be if you keep overdoing things.” His tone was gruff, growly. “I bought you a brace,” he continued. “Boots with ankle support. I’ll go get them. Wait here.”

I pushed my torso upright. “I have to bring Butch back his keys....”

“You’ll only confuse him.” Tank was a dark shape above me, one that should have been menacing but wasn’t. He was just far enough away that I could have rolled sideways and evaded his offensive if he lunged for my throat.

Not that Tank had given me any reason to be afraid of him. But that was the whole point. The distance between us now was an entirely unwerewolf-like promise of personal space. So sweet I found myself leaning toward him instead of away.

I barely managed a hum of question, but that was enough to spur Tank to elaborate. “When I saw you and the convertible were both missing, I asked Butch if I could borrow his car. Take you for a ride.”

A ride. His words raised goosebumps on my arms, even though I was pretty sure he hadn’t intended the double meaning.

Then I remembered tomorrow. Breakfast with shifters who would sneer at me behind their hands. Tank’s quick thinking solved one problem, but opened up a whole ‘nother can of worms.

“Thanks,” I said, not really meaning it.

And Tank must have understood my tone because he shook his head, something I felt more than saw as a breeze caressed my cheekbone. “Butch keeps his own confidence.” A pause, then: “Will you wait here? Three minutes.”

What could I do but say yes?

I WAS LOST IN THE STARS by the time Tank returned. Was imagining pulling out the markers I rarely had time to play with and creating a night landscape from thousands of colored dots. Like Seurat if he’d discovered astronomy, pointillism turned to feeling instead of science....

I should have jumped when the door squeaked open and a werewolf slid into the seat beside me. Instead, I turned to