Stasia stood outside Billy Finley’s garage and hopped nervously from foot to foot. It was already late in the evening, but a light shone around the rusted edges of the garage doors. She’d bet anything that Billy was still working on that wreck of a pickup. He couldn’t help himself.
Even at seventeen, the boy had exhibited an obsession with cars. It was all he’d ever wanted to do. She used to spend hours lying next to him in the grass behind his parents’ house, listening to him dream up the cars he would fix one day. She would tell him her own dreams of working in entertainment. He’d never pry into why she didn’t want to return home or her real identity. She had appreciated that about him.
Those days had been rough for Stasia. The ancient biting ritual, which all werewolves’ offspring must face at the age of eighteen to join the pack, was just around the corner. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a werewolf yet. Plus, with all the attention at home focused on her baby twin siblings, she’d found it easier to run away from the castle and hide from her parents than face the pressures and disappointments of royal life.
For a short moment in time with Billy, she was just a girl. Not a princess. Not a responsible big sister. Just Stasia. Sometimes, she still longed for those sweet summer days.
She was knocked out of her trek down memory lane by a black cloud of exhaust that surrounded her. Hacking up half her lung, she lunged out of the way of a tow truck and the rust bucket it hauled. It missed her by only inches and reversed up onto the curb, sitting at an awkward angle.
“I thought you said you could handle this thing,” she yelled through gritted teeth.
Maxim’s guilty grin appeared in the driver’s side mirror. “Oops, guess it’s not quite like driving the gardener’s work truck.”
“Guess not,” she muttered.
Attached to the back of that tow truck was the very thing she hoped to lure Billy into giving her a chance. If yesterday’s interactions had been any indication, he wasn’t exactly in the giving mood. Already, Mr. Treckle had called her five times today, demanding an update. She’d managed to push him off for a bit, but it wouldn’t be long before he suspected something was off. She needed results. She needed Billy.
And they needed to put their past behind them.
Maxim managed to successfully back the truck into the driveway and set about unhooking the surprise Stasia had ordered in from the other side of the island that morning. It was times like this when she was grateful for her royal status. She doubted very much whether even Myra had the resources to order something so quickly. Maybe it was playing dirty, but Stasia didn’t care. She needed this story.
“All done,” Maxim said, pushing his flop of blond hair out of his face. “Can I go back to the arcade now? They’re having a tournament tonight on the vintage machines. I’m going to crush Ms. Pac-Man. They won’t see it coming.”
It hadn’t taken him long to discover the local hangout for all the teenaged werewolves. The arcade and bowling alley was housed in a shabby building just half a block down from the bar. Stasia waved him on and he ran toward the truck with a grin plastered on his face, wasting no time in pulling away.
“All right, girl.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s now, or never.”
With bold steps, she strode toward the garage. The muffled clang of metal on metal sounded when she got closer. As she suspected, a shadow danced in the lamplight from within, indicating its owner was hard at work. She raised her fist and knocked three time on the metal garage door. The clanging immediately stopped.
“Madge, I already told you I wasn’t interested in taking Mary to the summer street dance. That’s final.”
Stasia cocked her head at Billy’s words. Someone had been trying to set him up on a date. Interesting. Perhaps, he wasn’t such a lost cause after all.
The clanging started back up and she knocked again.
“Madge, I’m not interested.”
Heavy footsteps came toward her and the garage door shot open before she could step back. A second later, she found herself standing in front of Billy, their faces only inches apart. He blinked in surprise, his gaze trailing down to her tight red blouse and back up again.
“What do you want?” His tone was gruff, but doubt flickered in his eyes.
“You,” she blurted out.
He stepped back, surprise washing over his face. The door slipped out of his hands and he had to catch it before it fell between them again.
“What I meant to say is that I want to talk to you,” Stasia rushed on, her cheeks burning.
His eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
She huffed and placed her hands on her hips. Bossy and brisk were not her thing, but if that’s what it took to get a stubborn werewolf to listen, so be it.
“Don’t you think you owe me?” she demanded, shaking her head. “After what you put me through all those years ago?”
“Put you through?” He stepped toward her, the garage door crashing shut behind him. Anger burned in his eyes. “How about what you put me through? As far as I?
?m concerned, you owe me.”
“You? What are you...?”