“Let’s say I did?” I shrugged. “The price here says you only accept extremely valuable trade items as payment. I’m new here. What does that mean?”
“Well, let’s see.” He pulled off a thick brimmed hat and made a clicking sound at the side of his mouth. “How about this. I’ll cut you a deal. Fingers are valuable. Toes are too, a little less, so maybe two toes or one finger… I guess… hmm… I can’t think of anything you could give me that I’d want besides that.” He shrugged a shoulder.
I laughed. “How about my tonsils?”
“Nah.” He replaced his hat. “Nothing I can do with tonsils. They’re as useless to me as they are to you. I would go so low as a ring finger, but that’s my final offer.”
Looking at the old farmer’s expression, I realized the man was dead serious. He’d trade me one of these bottles of lotion for one of my fingers, and he thought he was cutting me a good deal.
“You don’t need a glamour, beautiful, you’re perfect the way you are,” a low melodic voice said from behind me.
I jumped, almost toppling forward into the stall. Gritting my teeth, I turned around to face the person who’d managed to sneak up on me, only to find the Chad Jameson impersonator standing a few feet away. The dim lights of the bar last night did the man no justice. In the daylight, the singer was a golden god. His features were bold, with prominent cheekbones, a strong chin, and deep-set eyes. The man’s hair flowed around his shoulders, and he wore a silk shirt and ripped up jeans. Clearly, the man took his rockstar impersonator job seriously.
He grinned at me, and it was the kind of high wattage grin that was supposed to melt my panties off. He nodded to the table. “I said, you don’t need one of these lotions. You’re gorgeous.”
“Yeah… I heard you, but I’m at a loss on how to respond. It’s a backhanded compliment because you just assumed that I was considering a glamour for vanity alone. Was that supposed to be a pick-up line?”
“It was definitely a pick-up line, but I don’t care if you’re vain, you have reason to be.” The singer punctuated the statement with a smile that made little butterflies take wing in my stomach. He licked his lips. “I saw you watching me last night. Want to fuck?”
A laugh burst from me, but the guy just continued smiling. “Holy shit, are you serious?”
“Of course, I’m always serious about fucking.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “The firehouse is only a few blocks away. I’m a fireman as well as a singer.”
I narrowed my gaze at the Chad Jameson impersonator. “Well, I have to respect your forthrightness. How often does that line work for you?”
The Chad impersonator ran a hand through his luscious hair and his dreamy dark blue bedroom eyes fell on mine. I got the distinct impression that he was, at this moment, imagining me naked. “I’ve only ever used that line on you. So, I’m hoping it works one hundred percent of the time.”
“Oh, come on… I call so much bullshit on that.” I chuckled and pulled the straps on my backpack. “So, I’m guessing that line works about ten percent of the time. Prove me wrong.”
“Ouch. You wound me,” the Chad Jameson impersonator said with a smile. He buried his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “If I add in the firefighter part, it’s worked every time.” He winked at me. “Don’t ruin the line’s track record, it couldn’t take the rejection.”
I cringed. “Oh lordy. Look, even if the real Chad Jameson hit on me with that one, the answer would still be no, thank you.”
The guy had managed to get on my “never in a million years” list in ten seconds flat. It was a damn shame too. This man was even sexier than the rockstar I worshiped as a teenager, if that was possible. I hadn’t had sex in a very long time, and I hadn’t had good sex in even longer than that. But, this guy’s offer was all too easy to turn down.
I turned back to the farmer. “Sorry for this...” I gestured over to Chad. “But, I’m not going to make the trade. I need my fingers and toes.”
The farmer tipped the brim of his hat to me. “They wouldn’t be extremely valuable if you didn’t.”
Turning back to the singer and said, “Welp, I’m not going to fuck you, good sir, but I will ask you directions to this address.” I held up the paper and pointed to the first address on the note. “It’s a veterinary clinic. I’m guessing you’re a local.”
The impersonator glanced at the note, and his perfect brow furrowed.
“You’re Teagan…?” the singer trailed off and then leaned in toward me and sniffed. “You are.”
As he did it, I got a full whiff of him, and the werewolf musk clinging to him. Fuck a mother fucking duck. How many werewolves were in this town?
“Well, this changes things,” the rockstar impersonator said. He examined my face, and then he blew out a long breath. “I’m actually not ready for us to fuck, Teagan. I’ll need a couple of days.”
I quickly took a step back from him, suddenly feeling more alarmed than amused. “Seriously? I already rejected your rather insulting offer. Did that not register or something?” I was this close to telling the werewolf that he could go fuck himself, but mouthing off to random werewolves was a seriously bad idea. “You know what, I’ve got this.” I held up the note. “Have a nice day.”
I turned and jogged away from the guy, rushing through the farmer’s market. I decided not to linger anymore at the stalls. It seemed that if I was determined to keep my appendages, I was even broke in magical currency.
Chapter Four
The Grayhaven Veterinary Clinic took up an entire city block, and there was a line to get in. I couldn’t help but notice that very few of the people in line had a pet. Obviously, when Lucas had suggested I come before opening, it was because he had more patrons than a store giving out free shit on Black Friday. When I made it in through the door, the girl behind the desk peered up through thick platinum bangs. She looked high school age, maybe sixteen or seventeen.
“Hello. We’re full today,” she said with a wide smile. “You’ll have to come back.”
“I have a gift certificate,” I said, holding the paper up.
The girl kept that disconcerting smile on her face as she looked at the note. “Uh, huh. That hand?”
She pointed to my left.
When I showed her my right, she nodded. “Okay… I think I understand.” She pushed back her rolling chair, gliding through the office and sticking her head into a hallway. “Dr. Wolf!” She yelled, “There’s a woman here with a gift certificate to have her hand sewn up, but she doesn’t have a wound. Am I supposed to cut her?”
The girl produced a knife from thin air.
“No! No,” I heard resonate from deeper in the building. A few seconds later, Lucas came stumbling out of the back while drying his hands. “Damn it, Kimmy. I said no more bringing knives into the clinic.”
“What knife, Dr. Wolf?” The blade in the grinning teenager’s hand vanished, and if possible, the wattage on her smile increased. “I was just asking what you wanted me to do. Should I make a new pot of coffee?”