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

I expected the party to break up when the breakfast crowd started filtering in, but the new customers just joined us for doughnuts. It was a little overwhelming, the hugs and well wishes from people I’d known for such a short time. I expected to bristle at the attention, to want to run into the kitchen for some peace and quiet. But I found that I didn’t feel crowded or pressured for a positive reaction. People here just wanted me to be happy, and not on terms carefully prescribed by them.

“Aw, shoot, I missed the surprise.” I turned to see Alan walking through the door with a little blue gift bag.

“Sorry, Mo’s an early riser,” Buzz said. “You have to get out of bed pretty early and all that.”

“If only . . .” Alan shot a dazzling smile my way. I rolled my eyes at the obvious joke. He slipped an arm around my waist and gave me an affectionate squeeze. I waited for the butterflies, but mostly, I felt a warm rush of affection, the same love I felt for Nate or Walt or Abner.

“Evie said no presents, but I wanted to give this to you,” he said, handing me the gift bag.

“That’s very sweet. You really didn’t have to—” I pulled out what looked like a tiny fire extinguisher. “Wow. Alan, I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s bear mace,” he said, proudly showing me the label. “I worry about you, all alone out there at your place. The bears are coming closer and closer into town every year. I want you to carry that at all times. But don’t flip the lid unless you really mean it, because that stuff stings . . . and stains.”

I nodded. “That’s very thoughtful,” I assured him.

“A fella really has to like a girl before he’ll give her pepper spray,” Nate said, winking at me. He could not have been more pleased.

“Do I get to kiss the birthday girl?” Alan asked, leaning close. I could smell Scope on his breath. Obviously, he’d come prepared for this. “They say it’s supposed to be good luck.”

“Says who?” I asked, teasing.

“Well, I’m sure someone says it,” he said, shrugging good-naturedly.

As Alan leaned in, I gave him a friendly peck on the lips. He laughed and gave me another in return, murmuring, “One to grow on.”

My eyes widened as Alan leaned in and brushed his mouth over mine. He definitely knew what he was doing in the kissing department. I felt the warm, soft pulse of his mouth all the way to my toes.

“She’s thirty, you know,” Nate said. “That’s a lot of kissing.”

“I’ve got to get back to work at some point today,” I protested in mock horror as I gave Alan a hug. His returning squeeze was warm and strong, and Lord help me, I couldn’t help but lean right into it. Alan smelled of fresh minty breath and a good woodsy aftershave. I could hear his steady heartbeat against my ear and feel the warmth of his breath against my hair. I felt completely relaxed for the first time in weeks . . . so, of course, that was the moment that Cooper chose to walk through the door.

Over Alan’s shoulder, I saw Cooper take in the streamers, see me straightening out of what looked like a clutch with Alan, and frown. He turned on his heel and walked back out. Despite the quick sting of hurt, I pointedly acted as if I hadn’t seen him.

“You know, I was thinking that you shouldn’t have to cook for yourself on your own birthday,” Alan said, brushing a piece of glitter from my cheek. “I was thinking you should come over to my place tonight after work so I could make you dinner.”

“Well, that’s mighty neighborly of you, Ranger Dahling.”

“Alan makes a mean lasagna,” Nate added with a wink.

“Don’t oversell it, Nate,” Alan warned him. “I’ll have to throw away the Stouffer’s box before she comes over.”

“I’m sure anything you make will be fine,” I told him. “Can I bring anything?”

“Nope, just yourself. And maybe wear the hat. It’s pretty damn cute.”

“I can’t just not bring something for my host. It’s practically against my religion.”

Nate and Alan gave me skeptical looks.

“Southern counts as a religion,” I insisted.

The party eventually broke up when some tourists came in looking for steak and eggs. Susie and Gertie tried to get me to wear my birthday hat all day, saying it would help our health-code rating if my hair was covered. I politely declined.

That afternoon, close to the end of my shift, there was a little white gift box on the bar. Inside was a spherical lump of rock about the size of a baseball. I thought it was a practical joke, until Evie, a wide grin on her face, grabbed the tool kit out of the utility room and took me out to the alley. Using an awl and a hammer, she carefully tapped at the top of the rock.

“Evie, what are you—”

“Shh. I’m concentrating,” she said, chewing her lip. “I haven’t done this in a couple of years.”