Page 23 of Howl Will I Know

The wolf’s interest remains fixed somewhere south of us.

I set the scraper down harder than necessary and tell myself I’m going home. I don’t need to buy anything for lunch. There’s food at the house. I can make something there without going anywhere near Nightjar Row.

Five minutes later, I’m driving along Nightjar Row. Marcel’s is here. That’s the reason. I need meat. I bought meat two days ago, but that’s irrelevant.

I’m almost past the square when I spot Nora farther up the road. She doesn’t notice me as I ease off the gas, too busy shifting an enormous fern higher on her hip while keeping one of her grocery bags from sliding down her wrist. The paper looks damp at the bottom, and I can see what’s going to happen before she does.

The bag splits.

Two apples hit the pavement, followed by a carton of eggs and something green that rolls beneath a parked car.

Nora closes her eyes.

Through the open window, I hear her say very clearly, “Of course.”

I pull over and kill the engine.

One of the apples rolls toward the curb as I climb out. I catch it beneath my boot before it can escape.

She opens her eyes, and our gazes meet. “Please tell me you didn’t see that.”

“No.” I pick up the apple.

She watches me approach. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I crouch and retrieve the second apple before it reaches the gutter. The carton of eggs has survived, somehow. The green thing beneath the car turns out to be a zucchini. I reach beneath the car and grab it. “Your groceries are trying to escape.”

She sighs as she looks at the now-empty broken bag. “That’s the second one today. They don’t make grocery bags like they used to.”

“Why the hell didn’t you drive instead of trying to carry everything home?”

“I wanted to walk. It’s such a lovely day.” She gives me a sheepish look. “And the fern was an impulse buy.”

I stuff the zucchini and apples into one of the surviving bags and balance the carton of eggs on top, then pluck the bags from her and turn toward the truck.

“Hewit, I can carry them.”

I ignore her as I place the bags in the cab. Rounding the truck, I open the passenger door. “Get in.”

Nora looks from me to the truck. “Are you kidnapping me?”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m kidnapping you and dropping you off next door.”

“Very convenient cover story.”

I glance at the pot. “Give me that.”

“No.”

“Nora.”

“Hewit.”

My fingers brush the back of her hand as I reach over and take the fern. My entire body notices. So does the wolf.

Nora inhales through her nose. She felt it again. I know she did because her heartbeat changes—one quick stumble, then faster. I shouldn’t be listening to her heartbeat, but knowing that doesn’t stop me hearing it.

“Fine,” she mutters. “But only because my groceries have staged a rebellion.”