The Werewolf Dates The Deputy - Kristen Painter Page 0,16
coffee black, though.
Just because he was curious, he opened the freezer. More meat, some vegetables, and four containers of ice cream. Rocky road, triple-chocolate smash, chocolate peanut butter, and chocolate chocolate chip.
Someone had a little addiction. Good to know.
He peeked down the hall. She was still in the bedroom.
He opened a few of the kitchen cabinets. All just as neat as everything else he’d found. Plates stacked just so. Food grouped by kinds and arranged the same way as things in the fridge. Labels out. Tidy rows.
“Looking for something?”
He’d been caught. No point in denying the truth. He closed the cabinet and turned around. “Nope, just being nosy. Trying to see what you like and don’t like. Since we’re going to be living together.”
“Don’t say ‘living together.’ That makes this whole thing sound more salacious than it really is.”
“Salacious? From the woman who gave me grief because I used the word ‘keen’?” He laughed.
She smirked at him, but that was all the fuss she made. Just set down her large duffel bag and glanced at the shopping bag he’d filled. “I’m not a picky eater, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out. Did you get the steaks?”
He nodded. “And the cheese and lunch meat that was in there, too, plus the veggies that were in the crisper.”
“Good. Thanks. Did you get the beer?”
“I have beer.”
She made a face at him. “You have Warhammer Stout?”
“No. I have Coors. And I think some Sam Adams.”
She snorted. “If I want bottled water, I’ll buy some Fiji.” She turned. “I’ll get a crate from the garage.”
She went out and came back in with a plastic milk crate, put it on the table, then started loading it with bottles. When it was full, she shut the fridge. “That’ll do it.”
He was too amused to keep quiet. “You realize that’s also beer, right?”
“Warhammer Stout isn’t beer. It’s the nectar of the gods. Literally, the founder is a berserker, and rumor has it he stole the recipe from Valhalla.”
Now Titus was curious.
It must have shown on his face. She laughed. “You can try a bottle.”
“Thanks.”
She put her hands on her hips. “We’ll need to call for a ride again, either to the department or the station, to get one of our vehicles.”
“I can do it.” He pulled out his phone. “How do I do it?”
She squinted at him. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t already have the Ryde app on your phone, which means you don’t have an account set up.” She got her phone out. “I’ll take care of it.”
She tapped a few buttons, and they were set. “Eleven minutes.”
“I assume we’re going to the fire station first, since it’s closer?”
“Yep. Then you can drive me to the department, and I’ll get my car and follow you.”
He nodded. “Sounds good. Should we wait outside? I can carry the groceries and beer, since you have your bag.”
She gave him another look but said nothing. Probably she wanted to say something about how she was just as strong as he was. Maybe stronger. She was a valkyrie, after all. A very sexy—whoa, where had that come from? He knew where. He just didn’t want to admit it.
But it had to be the love spell. There was no other explanation. Was she feeling it too? She wasn’t really acting like it.
Was the spell also why he couldn’t stop thinking about all those brightly colored underthings he’d seen earlier and why he couldn’t stop wondering how many of them had made it into the duffel bag?
Whatever the answer, he had the distinct feeling he was already in trouble.
Jenna didn’t want to be impressed with Titus’s house, but she was. The Craftsman-style lodge home seemed exactly like the kind of house a rugged, alpha male werewolf would live in.
To be honest, the place looked very much like the sort of house she’d want to live in someday. From the square white columns that broadened into stacked stone foundations, to the crisp white trim and clean lines, the house had a strength about it. A presence that felt solid and unshakable. Like you knew whoever lived here was someone you could depend on.
She supposed that was precisely who the fire chief should be. And maybe Titus was that kind of guy. Most likely. She didn’t know him that well. Didn’t need to, either, no matter what the love spell was influencing her to do.
What did her house say about her? Probably not much. It was a simple three-bedroom ranch. Neat,