The Werewolf Dates The Deputy - Kristen Painter Page 0,3
can smell it. You want to bring your meter in and see if you can find out where it’s coming from?”
“Yep.” He went up the steps. The stink of rotten eggs hit him hard as he walked into the house. His nose wrinkled. “Methanethiol.”
“What’s that?”
“The stuff they add to natural gas to make it smell bad. Also known as mercaptan.”
“Which they add because natural gas has no smell, right?”
“Right.” He checked the meter, which showed that gas was still only faintly present. “Weird.”
“What is?”
“For as much methanethiol as I smell, the meter isn’t reading the equivalent amount of gas present.”
Jenna’s brow furrowed. “Why would that be?”
“Not sure yet. You’ve searched the whole house?”
“Yes.”
“Is the smell any stronger anywhere else?”
“Not that I noticed.”
He looked around. “Is there a basement?”
“Off the kitchen. You want to start your sweep there?”
“Yes, although natural gas is lighter than air, which means it should rise, making the smell stronger up here, but there are usually plenty of pipes to check in a basement.”
She tipped her head toward the back of the house as she holstered her weapon. “Let’s go have a look.”
He held his hand out. “After you.”
Jenna opened the door to the basement, turned on the light, and headed down with Titus right behind her.
She wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, but there was something kind of sexy about Titus when he was in fire chief mode and not trying to tell her how they were going to organize the race. Not just because she had a thing for men in uniform. Particularly firemen. He wasn’t hard to look at either.
Not with that slightly feral thing he had going on. Reminded her of the valkyrie’s male counterpart, the berserker, which was exactly who she would have been paired with in an arranged marriage if not for the extra two years of service that she’d taken on.
Berserkers were wild warrior men with an unmatched fierceness. All the shifters seemed to have that same look about them, some more than others.
Titus had it in spades, especially when he was passionate about something. Like the race. Or his job. He’d probably look that way about his mate too. Although she hadn’t known him to date since his breakup.
She could only imagine what it would be like to be the focus of that feral energy.
She blew out a breath at the sudden rush of heat that went through her. She really shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. Not when he was two feet behind her and smelled like the forest after a hard rain.
Which was a much better smell than the stink of rotten eggs filling this place.
“You okay? You’re not feeling lightheaded, are you?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m fine.”
He shrugged. “Well, the way you exhaled, I thought the fumes were getting to you.”
She narrowed her eyes before turning her head back around. “I’m a valkyrie, wolf. I’m not affected by such things.”
“That’s probably because your sense of smell isn’t as keen as mine.”
She snorted as her feet hit the basement floor. She twisted to face him. He was still a couple of stairs up. “Right. Also, keen? Really?”
“‘Keen’ is a perfectly good word.” He joined her and held the meter out, scanning the basement.
She watched him, maybe admiring the muscles in his forearms just a little. “You sound like my sister. And she’s a librarian.”
“You have something against librarians?”
“Nothing at all. But those kinds of words coming out of a fire chief?”
“Would you prefer I growl my words? Maybe grunt a little?”
She laughed, not meaning to.
He smiled.
And her insides clenched. She inhaled, suddenly needing the air. There was something magical about that smile. Which was stupid. Because smiles were just the muscles of the face contracting. Nothing more.
He shook his head. “You’ve been working for my brother for too long.”
“Maybe.” She needed to get back on track. “What’s your meter say?”
“That there’s no gas leak down—”
Something thunked on the floor above them. Well above them. The sound was followed by what had to be footsteps.
“Crap,” she whispered. “The attic. There’s a set of pulldown steps in the garage, but I didn’t check up there.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll be your backup. You lead. You’ve got the gun, after all.”
Just like that, they were back to the task at hand. That’s how it was with them. Being a first responder meant the job took priority. But Jenna kind of enjoyed how easily they went from banter to business.