the rays of the sun had silenced it.
The sudden quiet after the burst of sound was eerie. My skin prickled, and I pulled my head back into the room.
Grace would be out there now with her handful of hunters. She'd find the wolf, or wolves, and she'd end at least one of our problems.
I glanced around. Not a trace of what happened last night remained. Not his shirt or a sock, not even a note.
I scowled into the vanity mirror. Malachi wasn't the type of man to leave a note; I wasn't the type of woman ' who needed one.
Last night had been about sexual freedom. I'd taken I back my life. I'd done what I wanted to do with the man I'd wanted to do it with, and it had felt...
"Fantastic," I announced, my mood lightening at the memories.
If they'd even happened.
"Don't be ridiculous," I told the brand-new woman in the mirror. "You aren't insane."
Isn't that what all insane people said? Especially when they talked to themselves in the mirror?
AN hour later I walked down Center Street, nodding to the people I met and wondering why everyone kept whispering. I found out soon enough.
I hadn't been at the office five minutes when Joyce barreled in. She saw me at my desk and tossed the Gazette in front of me with such force I had to slap my palms on top of the newspaper to keep it from tumbling off the other side.
"What are you thinking?"
"Not... much," I said slowly. "I haven't had my coffee."
"You've had just about everything else."
"Are you okay?"
"No." She stabbed a finger at the paper.
I glanced down and choked. In the center of the front page was a photo of my house, with Malachi climbing out the window. In a smaller photo below, the photographer had zoomed in and caught the Gypsy leader's disheveled appearance: His shirt hung loose, framing his beautifully sculpted chest; his pants were zipped but not buttoned, and his hair looked as if someone had run her fingers through it in a fit of passion. I guess I hadn't dreamed last night after all.
"I'm going to kill him," I muttered.
"Doesn't seem like you want him dead, seems like you want him naked."
"I didn't mean Mal." Joyce's eyebrows went up at the familiar term of address. "I meant Balthazar. This is his idea, if not his direct handiwork."
"Goes without saying," Joyce agreed. "But what in Sam Hill were you doing letting that guy in your bedroom?"
I hadn't let him in, but that was neither here nor there. "Did you take a look at him?"
"Pretty is as pretty does."
"That's the truth."
"You slept with him?"
"What do you think we did, Joyce, play Monopoly?"
"Ah, hell." She put her fingers in her hair and tugged. "How am I going to spin this so you don't lose your job and ruin everything your father worked for?"
"My private life is private."
Joyce snorted. She was right. I was a politician, or near enough. My private life would never be private.
"If you hadn't slept with him," she continued, "I might be able to make something up."
"I can't think what."
Joyce glanced at the picture again. "You're right. No fixing this." Her eyes lit with an idea. "Gypsies'll be gone in a week. Maybe it'll blow over. As long as you stay away from him from now on."
I went silent.
"Claire?"
"Hmm?"
"You'll stay away from him?"
I took a minute to ponder. "No."
"He's that good?"
I didn't need a minute to answer that. "Yes."
"Hell."
"This picture is going to seem like less than nothing soon enough."
Joyce stilled. "What else did you do?"
I told her about Josh, past and present, as well as the wolf, the missing tourist, and Grace's hunting party. By the time I was done, Joyce's hair was a mess and I was worried she'd make a bald spot somewhere if she kept yanking at it.
"You should have put that bastard away on day one," she said.
"I know."
"I can't wait to see him in cuffs."
I couldn't, either.
"You should have come home right away after that happened, Claire. Come home to the people who love you."
"I didn't want anyone to know."
"By 'anyone' you mean your dad."
"Especially him." The one bright light to his being gone was that he'd never know about Josh.
"He'd have broken out the family shotgun, that's for sure," Joyce said. "I'd have chipped in for the shells."
I smiled. "Thanks, Joyce."
She shrugged. "People in this town stick together. Always have, always will. I'd do anything for you."
"Same goes," I said, amazed to realize I'd do