Perfect Mate (A Werewolf BBW Shifter Romance #2)(8)

"But WHY?"

Julia's shout was louder than she had intended. Indeed, she'd never screamed at Granny Dee before, and it took her by surprise as much as it did the older woman. Dee reached across the table and took her hand. Her grandmother's skin felt papery and thin under her fingers, and she immediately regretted raising her voice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, bending her head down. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I don't want to annoy the guests."

"There's nobody here today," Dee said, sighing. Julia blinked back her tears and wiped her eyes with one hand. No guests. It wasn't any surprise that they were being foreclosed on. But if only Granny Dee would let Damien help...

"I just want to protect you," Dee said. "It has nothing to do with who likes you or not, child. That's not the reason we're here."

"But if Damien—"

"Enough about that man," Dee said, in a voice that said she would brook no opposition. "He's dangerous, and we won't take his charity."

"Dangerous?" Julia was aghast. Damien was the kindest, most gentle man she'd ever met. Sure, he'd fought the wolf and injured him, but that was self-defense. She couldn't imagine him ever hurting her intentionally, not in any way.

Dee stood up from the table. Her hands were shaking as she smoothed the folds of her apron down.

"We'll plan to leave this week," she said. "I don't want you to see Damien again."

"That's not fair!" Julia's face turned hot with anger. The injustice of it all! Granny Dee had always supported her. When she was bullied in school and came home crying that no boys would ever like her, Dee told her that one day she would find true love. And now that she had found it...

"Child," Dee said. Her wrinkled face sagged. "You must trust me on this."

"I don't understand," Julia said, her heart tearing between Damien and her grandmother. "Please."

Granny Dee shook her head, her gaze absentminded. She seemed to be remembering something else.

"Put the apple crumble away when you're done with it," Dee said. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," Julia said, to nobody in particular. Her stomach turned at the thought of food. She felt like a prisoner trapped inside of the cozy walls of the house. Her grandmother spoke as though she knew Damien's intentions were bad. She hadn't even given him a chance. Julia felt a wetness on her cheek, and wiped away the tears that seeped out of her eyes unwillingly. One tear made it through her fingers and tickled her chin, and this small agony made her want to give up.

She walked to the kitchen window and looked out at the backyard, over to where the meadow ended and the forest began. There, just inside the line of trees, Katherine and Kyle were waiting, ordered to protect her, on guard.

But on guard for what?

CHAPTER SIX

In the car, Damien tapped his fingers against the window impatiently.

"You're the world's worst percussionist," Jordan said. "I thought you were supposed to make up for being blind with heightened senses. Or did that not include a sense of rhythm?"

"I wish I didn't have a sense of smell, sitting here next to your ungroomed pelt," Damien retorted. The joke was half-hearted, and he knew it, but he didn't care. He wasn't in the mood to tease.

"My pelt is excellently coiffed, thank you very much," Jordan said.

"Do you think they're really after her?" Damien asked.

Jordan paused.

"I'm not sure. It sounded like it from the way the shifter was talking. But who knows? He could have been crazy. You saw him kill himself shifting."

"Mmm," Damien said noncommittally.

Jordan pulled the car off to the side of the road. "I think this is it. What did Kyle say? Green car?"

"Green Toyota," Damien said.

"This is it, alright," Jordan said. He turned off the ignition. The sound of the keys jangling in his hand struck Damien's nerves. He wanted to snatch them up, to cease the high-pitched clanging. He realized that his adrenaline was flowing, and his hearing had begun to pick up the most minute sounds. The buzz of a mosquito just outside the car window. The low hum of their car cooling down, the pings of metal in the engine. "You ready to go, detective?"

Damien took a deep breath and opened the car door, swinging his legs out. The scent of wolf made him tense, even though he recognized the smell as being from the dead shifter. The dead shifter. The one he had killed. The fight—

"Looks like it's locked," Jordan said, trying the last door of the Toyota. "Windows aren't open. Let's see if there's a rock around here somewhere."

"Let me try something first," Damien said. He opened the trunk of the rental car and dug through to find what he thought was inside.

"You know, you can ask me to help you find things," Jordan said, leaning against the side of the car. "My ungroomed pelt isn't all that useless."

Damien emerged from the trunk, holding a wire hanger up over his head in triumph. The search had distracted him from his black thoughts.

"Aha!"

"Did you find that using a magical sense of magnetism?" Jordan asked.

"No, that's how I find the ladies," Damien said, grinning. "Or rather, how they find me."