How to Date a Werewolf Page 7

  I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. I said I can see you. Don’t ignore me.” I spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re not very good at this game.” Trying to keep my voice to a whisper wasn’t easy. My anger escalated.

  In that moment, both of them stood, and I stumbled backward a couple of steps when I took in their size. For a second, I wobbled on my feet until I finally righted myself. Something was different.

  The Martin necklace was missing from around Lily’s neck, and her eyes glowed a different hue. Her usually shiny fur wasn’t clean and pretty as it normally was. The other wolf had an overbite and wore a thick gold chain around his neck. Yes, the beast was a he--and don’t ask me how I knew, because I don’t want to talk about it.

  All right, if you must know, one word would describe it. Eww. He seriously needed to wear pants. And how the hell he got a necklace around his thick, hairy neck I had no idea. More than likely I wouldn’t want to know.

  Anyway, like I said, a different vibe came from them, and I got the sinking sensation Lily wasn’t one of the mangy mutts standing before me. I never thought I’d be happy to see her, but this was one time when I would have welcomed a visit from Lily instead of the scruffy animals facing me.

  We stared at each other for a few seconds and I worried Jack would come to find me. Undoubtedly, he wondered what could be taking me so long.

  “What do you want? I don’t have time to play these silly games.” I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them spoil my date.

  Overbite-wonder-wolf winked at me and stared as if I was the only steak in a vegetarian restaurant. My stomach churned. The other one with short, multicolored fur let out a growl and in a split second slashed the front of my shirt with a claw.

  “You stupid...” Temper. Temper. I had to control my temper. After all, I was in a restaurant. Breathe in. Breathe out. Apparently they wanted to rumble, but I wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Jack why my clothes looked like I’d shoved them through a paper shredder, then put them back on. There was only one thing to do: I’d have to duck into the ladies’ room, take off my clothes--fighting lupines would ruin my outfit--and change into my werewolf-self. Then I’d kick some werewolf butt, put my clothes back on and continue my date. Easy peasy. But if I didn’t get busy, that margarita glass would be dry before I could even say Wolfman.

  I dashed toward the ladies’ room, hurried in and slammed the door shut behind me. With fumbling fingers, I locked the access. Thankfully, I moved too quickly for them. They scratched at the wood as I secured the latch. The knob jiggled. Drawn-out scratches echoed from the other side, down the length of the door. More jiggling, followed by pounding. Would anyone hear and come save me? I moved away from the door, staring at it and wondering if they’d knock it in. Then silence. I needed to hurry.

  I pulled my ripped blouse--I’d get them for that--over my head, and then shimmied out of my jeans. Scanning the room, I didn’t see anywhere to stash my clothes. Finally, I settled on stuffing them under the sink and prayed no one would steal them before I annihilated the dirty wolves. Jennifer had been right about the matching underwear thing--a werewolf in granny panties wouldn’t be cool. Another “I told you so” could be heard in the distance. I had no alternative but to strip off everything.

  So there I stood in the middle of the women’s restroom of Emilio’s Mexican Restaurant without a stitch of clothing on--what had happened to my life? Where had things gone so terribly wrong?

  I had thought running a matchmaking service would be a stress-free career. At least I thought finding people’s soul mates sounded like an easy, fun job. Possibly I was wrong. I tallied the figures in my head. Yep, a lot of money to lose just because Lily wasn’t happy.

  And being involved with the paranormal world was chaotic. My business had gone from werewolves and normal people to all sorts of supernatural beings. I had vampires, aliens, psychics--you name it, they came to me for help. Of course the normal folk were oblivious to the otherworldly things going on right under their noses, and at that moment I wished I was one of them. I should have been a dog trainer as my mom suggested. Other beasts sit up and take notice of me, you know. I’m practically the Dog Whisperer.

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I tiptoed to the door. The thought of how nasty my feet were from the dirty floor made my skin crawl, but there was no way to avoid it. I’d begun my transformation to wolf. Hair developed over my body, and I felt my eyes change. My plan was to run out of the restaurant and into the alley, because the dimwits would follow me and we could fight there. Even though my nerves seemed to be a bit on edge, I felt the wolves were no match for me. No matter there were two ready to wrestle me. I was strong for a she-wolf. Plus, I had no other options. Jack would be looking for me soon.

  I pressed my ear to the wood and listened. Silence. I unlatched the lock and grabbed the door handle.

  As I swung it open, I said, “Hasta la bye-bye, fellows.”

  A loud screech echoed through my head, making my teeth chatter. I screamed in return at the old lady standing in front of me. She clutched at her chest. Her mouth dropped open. Thank heavens for denture adhesive. Her face blanched. I feared she was having a heart attack as she stared at my lycanthropic-ness, among other things. I prayed she wouldn’t die. I could never forgive myself for that.

  Slamming the door shut, I locked it in a hurry. Scurrying back over to my clothing, I pulled out my jeans and blouse and yanked them back on. Stripping down to my birthday suit in a public restroom, now that I thought about it, had been a bad idea. In the brief moment the door had been open, I noticed the werewolves must have fled the scene. I never figured they’d give up that easily, just by me retreating to the washroom. Hell, if I’d known, I could have avoided terrifying a grandma.

  As I stood in front of the mirror, my reflection appeared more than a little scary--fur covered half of my face and most of my hands. The old lady probably thought I was some kind of circus freak. Emilio needed a marquee in front of the door: Come one, come all and see the bearded lady. I turned the faucet on and splashed my face with the cool water. The only thing I could do at that moment was calm down and pull out the trusty razor from my purse.

  So there I was in the middle of Emilio’s Mexican Restaurant, shaving my face. At least I had my clothes on this time. I guess you could say I’d dodged a silver bullet with that one. Not being caught in a rumble with the hairy hooligans was a blessing, but having the woman see me nude was a bit embarrassing, to say the least. Another thing that sucked: I had to explain to Jack why my shirt was torn, which wouldn’t be easy considering it looked as if a claw slashed it. Okay, so a claw had slashed it, but he didn’t need to know. Maybe if I held my purse strategically in front of me no one would even notice. I would give it a shot. It was my only option.

  Someone rapped on the door. Probably the frightened woman wanted me to come out. The way she ran off, though, she looked like a track star trying for a gold medal, and I doubted I’d ever see her near that restroom again. Which was fine with me, by the way.

  “Is anyone in there?” a female voice said, followed by more knocking.

  “Give me one minute. I’ll be right out.” Figured someone would want in just as I started my shave. I glided the razor over my foamed face. Being in such a hurry, I nicked myself and ran over to grab a piece of tissue paper. After I shoved the razor and shaving gel back into my purse, I checked my reflection. My eyes appeared to have returned to their hazel state--a good sign. I dabbed on a bit of foundation.

  “Come on. I don’t have all night. What are you doing in there?” I heard the urgency in her voice.

  “Coming,” I said in my sweetest voice. Apparently someone had to pee-pee badly.

  As soon as I opened the door, the woman hurried past with a nasty look. I smiled in return. After all, I didn’t have to brawl with my furry friends or anyone else for that matter. At that moment, life wasn’t all that bad, especially considering Mr. Yummylicious waited for me. I’d erase the Lily
dilemma from my mind.

  Amid some eyebrow-raising glances, I slithered back toward my table. I scanned the space, looking for the dirty werewolves, but didn’t spot them anywhere. Lucky for them. I’d hate to have to go all kung fu on their asses. Jack remained at the booth with a half-empty margarita in front of him. He didn’t seem to notice my minced blouse. How I would finish the date without him noticing, I had no idea, but I’d worry about that later.

  “Are you all right? I was beginning to get worried. I thought about finding a woman to go in there and check on you. I also thought for a second that maybe you’d ditched me.”

  The thought never crossed my mind that he’d think I’d run out on him. I was lucky he hadn’t left.

  “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I ran into a couple of friends.” The lie slipped out so easily, I surprised myself. I needed to stop lying. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. Technically, it wasn’t a complete lie, I guess, but still...

  “Really? Are they still here? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Jack craned his neck and scanned the room looking for my buddies, never mind he had no idea what they looked like.

  Ugh, I prayed that my friends weren’t still lingering.

  “Sorry, they left already. They were in a rush and were just leaving when I bumped into them. Otherwise, I would have introduced you.” Not a lie--they were leaving.

  “You have something on your face.” Jack scrunched his brows and pointed to my face. “It’s right there on your chin.”

  Someone kill me now. Reaching up, I felt the damn tiny piece of toilet paper stuck to the dried blood on my face. I yanked it off. Despite how hard I tried, I somehow always ended up looking like a total freak.

  “Oh, I hit my face on the restroom door and it bled.” I chuckled. My nervousness drifted in the air.

  “Wow. Are you all right?” Concern edged his voice.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit clumsy. The door jumped right out in front of me.” I giggled. “These margaritas are great, huh?” I took a gulp, and it felt superb going down. I needed the smooth liquor to ease my tension.

  Jack took the bait and glided smoothly into my conversation direction. Nice change of subject, I thought.

  “The best I’ve ever had,” he said.

  To avoid staring at him too much, I scanned the restaurant. No werewolves in sight, only authentic Mexican décor. Sombreros and tile murals.

  “There she is.” The garbled voice sounded from across the room.

  Uh-oh. The petite, gray-haired lady pointed me out to Emilio from the other side of the room. Couldn’t she just let it go? What did she think? I was a pervert? So what if she’d seen an au naturel hirsute woman. She needed to drop it.

  There was nowhere to hide--no menus left on the table, no huge plants to scurry behind. Just a single red rose dropped into a crystal vase sat in the middle of the table--hardly enough to conceal my appearance.

  “There’s the woman I saw in the restroom. She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, I tell ya. You need to call the police and have her arrested for indecent exposure. I won’t stand for that sort of public display. We don’t need her kind gallivanting around.” She pointed her bony finger in my direction.

  Many times in my life I’d wished I possessed magical powers, but never more so than at that moment. If only I could have twitched my nose and erased the situation.

  The only course of action I could conjure up was to ignore them and pray they went away. The glistening margarita in front of me called my name and I took another huge swig. Maybe tequila would numb the pain of humiliation. The liquor burned slightly going down, but the lime taste made up for it. If the woman didn’t go away, I might have to move on to a shot of tequila instead. It would work faster.

  “Rylie, I think they’re talking about you. They’re staring at you and pointing. And now they’re headed this way,” Jack said.

  “Hmm?” I skimmed over the advertisement tent on the table, not looking at him. “Oh look, it’s half-off margaritas night. What a bargain.”

  “They’re coming this way. I think they want to talk to you, Rylie.”

  Emilio approached our table with the geriatric in tow. Why couldn’t the old biddy, er, sweet elderly woman mind her own business? So what if I flashed her in the ladies’ room?

  “Rylie, I’m sorry to bother you. This lady here says you may have had a problem in the ladies’ room?” He pointed to her. “She wants me to call the police. I’m sure it was just a complete misunderstanding, right?” Sweat beaded on his face. He brushed the dark hair off his forehead. The old lady moved closer to Emilio, nudging him to take action against me, I suppose.

  My gaze met Emilio’s, then I tilted my head to look at the blue-hair behind him. There was no need to look at Jack. I felt his stare boring into me.

  “I’m really sorry. I’m afraid I’ve had my clothing on the entire evening. No problems there.” Finally, I looked to Jack and laughed.

  Hiding my nervousness behind laughter was particularly difficult under the scrutiny of all three of them. Other customers nearby watched as well. It seemed as if all eyes in the place were on me. Jack returned my laughter, and then Emilio joined in the revelry.

  The spry senior citizen hovering over him did not find the situation quite as amusing, however. But luckily, it was her word against mine, and evidently being a regular customer had its perks, because Emilio believed me. There was no way I would tell the truth. Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.

  “I’m sorry if we disturbed your evening. Please forgive me. I’ll let you get back to your conversation.” He held out his hand to Jack.

  Jack gripped it and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  A young man appeared from the kitchen delivering our steaming plates perched precariously on one arm. That was the cue for Emilio and his shadow to leave us alone. As she spun around in her black orthopedic shoes, she flashed me an evil glare and followed in Emilio’s footsteps. He whispered her meal was on him. Heck, I would have paid for her dinner if she’d kept her trap shut.

  “Wow. That was incredibly weird.” Jack stared at me, his blue eyes wide.

  “Yes, it was.” I raised an eyebrow to emphasize my shock.

  “Do you have any idea what she was talking about? Did you see her in the ladies’ room?” he asked.

  “No. No, I don’t know what she was talking about. The first time I saw her was right now. Maybe she has early stage dementia.” I shook my head and frowned. “So sad.” I gazed thoughtfully in her direction, thankful she’d let the matter drop.

  He nodded.

  “It is a terrible illness that strikes with a vengeance. I bet she saw me go into the restroom. It probably triggered some memory in her mind.” I guess I forgot I was talking to a psychiatrist. Yikes.

  Fortunately, he seemed to have forgotten the incident as we enjoyed our food. However, I couldn’t stop glancing over my shoulder, looking for my lupine assailants.

  During dinner, we discovered we had several things in common. We both enjoyed a variety of music from classical to country. He loved chocolate cupcakes as much as I did, and both of us played trumpet in our high school band. I’d be willing to bet he was better at it than I was, though.

  “How long have you been in the matchmaking business?” He brought my attention back to our date.

  “Not long, actually.” I wiped sour cream off my mouth. Thoughts of my new business woes reemerged. “I was an administrative assistant at a company here in Orleans for a few years after college, but that was going nowhere fast. Every day the same routine. I didn’t look forward to work, at all. About the only thing I did well during my time there was fix up other employees on dates. They called me Miss Match.”

  “Cute. The name suits you.”

  “Thanks.” I took another bite of my still steamy food.

  “Sounds as if you found your calling.” With my current upset client, that was questionable. “You’re lucky, some p
eople never do. Where did you go from there? After fixing up co-workers?” He appeared genuinely intrigued.

  “Well, after one long terrible day at work, the idea to start my own business popped into my head on the commute home. I have no idea what came over me, or why I felt I could do such a thing. But the next thing I knew, Get a Mate opened for business. The rest is history.” I took a big bite of steak, then smiled. Not a bad date after all, steak and Jack. What more could I ask for?

  “You make it sound easy. It takes a lot of nerve to start a venture like that. I’m impressed.”

  “To be honest, everything I have is invested in my business. I have to make it work.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds. “I’m sure you will. You know, I feel so lucky I found the office and apartment to rent. Not only is it a fantastic location, having met you is certainly an added bonus.” He grinned.

  My cheeks flamed with heat. I seemed to embarrass easily since Jack showed up at my door. “You’re right. It is a great location and I’m glad you found it too.”

  He held up his glass. “Cheers to a great building and to my luck in meeting you, the wonderful and talented Miss Match.” His eyes twinkled under the low-hanging light above our table.

  “Salud,” I said with a bashful grin. Normally I wasn’t as timid around the opposite sex, not in my business. Jack, however, made me tongue-tied and flushed. The chemistry was there for us, I couldn’t deny that. It zinged around the table, bouncing off of us as if we played a game of Ping-Pong.

  “Speaking of our office settings, you know, actually, we have a great mixture of services that are all related on that little stretch of street. That’s what makes it such a great location.” I took another bite of my food. Sadly, my plate was almost clean.

  “What do you mean?”

  “People come to me first to find a date, of course. Then, when the date doesn’t work out, they travel to the voodoo shop next door for a doll to seek revenge or something. When that inevitably backfires, they finally realize they need a therapist and make their way to you.”