The Werewolf Nanny - Amanda Milo Page 0,63

with a wolfish grin, “until my friend here wins.”

CHAPTER 27

SUSAN

Saturday comes at breakneck speed, and it’s not one of our typical quiet weekends where we can bum around—the girls are scheduled to be with their dad.

That leaves Ginny and Deek kind of third-wheeling it since Ginny isn’t going to go with Charlotte for visitation with a man she isn’t related to, and Deek has no one to play babysitter to.

But they won’t be third-wheeling for long. After conferring with Finn, it’s decided that I’ll be driving the pair of them to Pack headquarters. And Finn will either be dropping them off or I’ll be picking them up Sunday night.

It’s a plan that makes me laugh a little, because it’s like I’m negotiating visitation for two sets of kids, although two of them aren’t mine.

And Deek is anything but a kid.

My gaze strays to him. To my surprise, my eyes connect with his.

I count three of my breaths—which speed up—before he glances away first.

For some reason, it fills my stomach with fluttering. Are these… butterflies?

Rolling my eyes at myself, I take off for the girls’ rooms, doing a last-minute check to make sure they aren’t missing anything.

When I emerge, their dad is standing on our doorstep, looking oddly subdued.

No, freaked out.

Julién is normally so confident. I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually seen him this level of off.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing the handles on one of Charlotte’s bags and toting it all of three steps toward the door before Deek is relieving me of it.

“Thanks,” I murmur, but now I’m eyeing him, because even he’s acting weird.

Deek’s beard has made an appearance—and since he came up the basement steps freshly shaved not an hour ago, this is strange, and a definite sign of nerves.

Also strange? His beard hair looks bristled. As in, it’s standing up. In fact, his arms look weird because not only does he have significant fur coverage, all of his hairs are standing straight up—making him look almost fluffy. But… also kind of freaky.

I look between him and Julién. “What’s going on?”

And that’s when Julién turns to fully face me, and I see one of his eyes is circled with ugly dull yellow and magenta. He’s been punched.

I should be horrified. And I do sort of have an instant of feeling bad, that burst of compassion anyone feels when they see a fellow human being sporting an injury.

However. In a very dark part of my soul that I’m not proud of, something smiles.

‘It was an accident.’

‘She didn’t mean anything.’

‘I swear I will never be unfaithful to you again!’

Lies.

“Sue,” is what Julién says. And that’s all he says. He doesn’t try to charm me, to manipulate me, or inquire about my wellbeing as if we’re polite strangers who can exchange such niceties without our history sitting behind us in ashes. Which he’s infuriatingly good at.

I’ve gotten good at it too, but to manage it, my heart had to break. It shattered into a million pieces that don’t love, don’t trust. It’s turned me cold inside.

I’m not feeling cold at the moment though. I’m despicably giddy. Unable to say anything in the face of Julién’s—well, his face, I don’t say anything at all. After an inexcusably long moment, I do manage a jerky nod of acknowledgement.

I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.

I hug each of the girls, giving them goodbye squeezes they return fiercely.

Julién turns to the bags accumulating by his feet and begins trekking them down the sidewalk and to his car.

Quickly, I glance at Deek.

Instead of ducking, Deek meets my eyes, something in his gaze almost challenging as he watches me back.

“Do you know anything about his…” I wave to my eye.

Deek doesn’t blink. “Finn said to tell you that your ex can’t eat an apple through a tennis racket yet—but it’s only because of his daughters that he’s been spared. Finn doesn’t want to scare them, but he did want to get the message across to the fleabag that you don’t mess with Pack.”

“But we’re not Pack.”

His expression does not change. “You’ve been adopted.”

Ginny slowly makes her way back into the house, looking first to Deek, then to me. “They’re ready to go,” she says dully.

I move to the doorway, trot down the steps, and prepare to wave my girls off for the weekend.

To my surprise and not-surprise, Deek joins me, standing behind my shoulder.

I lean down to see into the windows and wave. “Have a good time, ladies!”

“We will, Mom,” Charlotte says, a pained

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