How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf (Naked Werewolf 1)

I managed a laugh.

“Could I talk to you for a minute, Mo?” Eli asked. “Outside?”

I nodded, slipping into my jacket. Apparently still smarting from my comments at the saloon, Eli was now treating me with careful deference. He swept a dignified hand toward the aluminum lawn chairs Gracie had set out for nice weather. I accepted another mug of tea, which Grace had assured me was perfectly safe for me and my . . . pup.>One night, while perusing Rituals and Love Customs of the Were, I found that most breeds of wolves mate for life. And if one wolf in a breeding pair dies, it can send the other into a depression. The mourning wolf wouldn’t hunt, wouldn’t do anything to take care of himself, until the pack had no choice but to let him die. This made no sense. I wasn’t a werewolf. And I certainly wasn’t part of a breeding pair.

Wait a minute. Breeding pair. Not eating, constant fatigue, nausea, mood swings . . . Mentally, I counted back to the last month.

Shit.

I was late, several weeks late, and I hadn’t even noticed. This didn’t make any sense. I was the contraception queen. To keep up with Cooper, I’d taken to storing condoms in every room of our house. Clearly, Cooper’s swimmers could not be contained by mere modern prophylactics.

Stupid werewolf ninja sperm.

“Oh . . .” My hand dropped to my stomach. I put my head in my hands and gave in to the urge to cry. What could I do? How could I be sure? I couldn’t run into town to buy a pregnancy test. The entire town would know before I checked out at Hannigan’s. Could I even go to the doctor? Would they be able to tell that the baby had a few extra furry DNA strands? Would I have a normal pregnancy? Could I have my baby in a hospital?

When exactly had it become “my baby”?

I wanted to call Evie. I wanted her to tell me that this was all a silly misunderstanding and I’d just skipped a period because of stress. Instead, I scoured the books for everything I could find on human women carrying werewolf babies. There were discouragingly few entries, most of them concerning shortened gestation periods and overwhelming food cravings. Apparently, wolves carry their babies for only three months, so women carrying werewolf babies split the difference at about six months. That sounded really fast. But it couldn’t be all that dangerous or rare, right? Cooper said the wolf magic was carrying on in fewer families because of mingling the bloodlines. Obviously, there were a lot of human women out there having werewolf babies. But somehow I didn’t see myself finding a chat room for them. There was no BearingWerewolfSpawn.com.

I checked.

Shaking, I went to the kitchen and forced myself to drink a glass of water. I hadn’t been taking care of myself for weeks. I couldn’t keep living like this. If things with Cooper didn’t change, I could end up raising this baby alone. Was I ready for that? Was I even remotely prepared? Given my parenting role models, I was going to guess not.

I had to make the conscious choice, right then, whether that would continue or whether I would keep this baby. Whether I would start eating or sleeping again, even if I didn’t feel like it.

I reached into my cabinet for my daily multivitamins, which I hadn’t touched in I couldn’t remember how long. They weren’t prenatal vitamins, but they’d have to do until I could pick some up. I shook one out into my palm and stared at the little yellow tablet. I put it into my mouth, wincing at the stale, mineral taste, and threw back some water to help me swallow it.

Suddenly exhausted, I leaned my forehead against the counter and sighed. “We’re not off to a great start, kiddo.”

THE NEXT MORNING, I drove to the Crescent Valley to visit Gracie and Samson. I thought it would help to see their faces. But the moment Gracie opened her front door, the idea of discussing this mess with someone who really knew what was happening pierced me with a misery so acute I stumbled back.

“I shouldn’t be here.” I stepped back off the porch. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, pulling me inside. “I’m making some herbal tea. It’s a little strong, but it will make you feel better.”

She pushed me into a kitchen chair and put a mug of dark, teak-colored brew in front of me. “It’s strong,” she cautioned again.

“I’m the child of hippies. Your tea doesn’t scare me,” I told her, taking a small sip. The bitter flavors flooded my mouth, puckering my lips. “Gah!” I blew out a breath. “What’s in this?”

“You don’t want to know,” she said, topping off my mug. “Just drink. You’ll feel better.”

I winced as I brought the cup to my lips. Thinking better of it, I set it back down on the counter. “Cooper’s gone.”

“I thought as much,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulders. “It takes a strong woman to wait, Mo.”

“I can’t really leave. I mean, where could I go?” I said, pressing my fingertips against my cheekbones, as if the pressure would somehow keep my face from crumpling. “I’m going to—Oh, God, Gracie, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, little girl.” She sighed, leaning my head against her shoulder when I started to cry.

“I don’t know what to do. We didn’t even talk about kids. And I don’t know anything about babies, much less werewolf babies.”

“You sound as if you’re going to go through this alone.”

“Do you see anyone else around?” I asked, waving my arm toward the empty kitchen.

“There’s me. And Samson, and the rest of the pack, for now, until Cooper returns, which he will.”

The image of Samson trying to strap on a Baby-Björn carrier was enough to make me chuckle. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t think I could if I tried. But the idea of the baby growing up without a father, it’s just too sad. Oh, crap, Gracie, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I’m just not thinking straight right now.”