i’m safe at home. are you okay? i had a feeling something was wrong and was going to call you, she texted back.
bad morning. with killian now, though, so am safe. we’re about to try getting up arnica avenue. wish us luck.
let me know if you need anything and when you make it home.
i’ll call you when we’re there. I slid my phone back into my pocket as we came to the bottom of the hill.
Killian stopped a little ways away from the turn that would take us up the hill. Actually, it was more of a jog. We were in the left turn lane, but we’d have to cross the oncoming lane, then almost immediately, swing right to go up the hill. Halfway up, we’d have to pause at a light and make a sharp left turn to navigate up the rest of the winding road. That would be a sticky spot unless we hit the light when it was green. Staying in place at the light, then attempting to get enough momentum to make the turn and propel us up the rest of the ascent was the most troubling patch.
“Okay, hold on, this may be bumpy and we’ll be sliding some. Luckily, there aren’t any other cars on the road, but keep your eyes open in case I miss something.” Killian took a deep breath, then slowly put pressure on the gas.
We swung into the turn lane at precisely the right time, and then onto the first part of Arnica Avenue. I watched the turn signal ahead, which could barely be seen through the blowing storm. Green…stay green…please stay green, I thought. If it stayed green, we wouldn’t have to stop and could gain more momentum for the harder part of the hill.
And…green it was!
We pushed through just as the light started to turn yellow, and Killian gently swung to the left. The SUV went sliding toward the sidewalk, but he drove into the skid and managed to even it out while slowly increasing speed. I held my breath as we inched the rest of the way up Arnica to the top. From here, it was even ground to Fern Street and home.
Ten minutes later of slow, creeping travel, and we were in my driveway. Killian parked the SUV. “I’ll leave it here, if you don’t mind. You won’t be getting your car until tomorrow—if then. Unless we have a sudden thaw, we may be stuck for a couple days.”
“Come in with us,” I said. “It looks like we have electricity,” I added, glancing at the street lights, which were on. “I’ll make us all dinner and we can watch the news and find out when this storm’s going to end.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
We piled out of his car and my shoulder blade popped as I rolled my shoulders to loosen them. Apparently, I’d been so tense that I’d given myself a crick in my neck. Either that or diving for cover in the bar had done it.
“I ache,” I said, cautiously plowing through the shin-high snow. There had to be almost ten inches by now. While that was a good thing in some situations, snow was not one of them, especially when you were snowed in.
“Me too,” Louise said.
“We’re taking hot baths the minute we get inside,” I told her. “Killian, can you lay a fire, while Louise and I get the chill out of our bones? It was cold down at that restaurant.”
“And dangerous. I still smell like whiskey,” Louise said, sniffing the arm of her jacket. “It got on my coat.”
“You were drinking? That’s not a good idea,” Killian said. “Booze only—”
“We weren’t drinking. The ghosts were throwing bottles of booze at us and almost clobbered us several times,” I said, shuddering. “I just hope that one of them doesn’t get the idea to spark off a fire—there was enough alcohol on the floor to fuel a nasty one.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Louise said. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Well, there’s nothing I can do. At least I don’t have any pets to worry about.”
“I would have had you bring them with you if you did,” I said. “There’s no way we’d leave an innocent animal behind there. Now come on, let’s go upstairs. You can use the guest room and I’ll find you…” I paused, assessing her build. She was thinner than I was, but about the same height. “I have a caftan you can wear—it’s one size fits all, which is a lie of course, but it shouldn’t be terribly big on you.”
“As long as it’s dry and doesn’t smell like booze, I’m good,” she said.
I led her to the guest room, then found the caftan, along with a towel and washcloth. “Here. When you’re done, just go on downstairs. The washer and dryer are in the hallway, so go ahead and wash your clothes, if you like. There’s a mini-basket in the washing machine that’s the perfect size for washing a pair of jeans and shirt and underwear. The instructions on the machine are pretty self-explanatory, and the laundry detergent is in the cupboard directly above the dryer.”
She thanked me and withdrew to change clothes. The guest room had a smaller en suite bathroom, with a tub–shower combination. My en suite had a soaking tub, a walk-in shower, and a full-length double-sink vanity. My parents had renovated several rooms in the house about five years ago, and their master bath was one of those rooms. For their closet, my folks had sacrificed about three feet of the bedroom all along the back wall to create a wall-length closet with folding doors. The bedroom was still big enough for a king-size bed, and although it had been awkward at first, taking my parents’ room and turning my old bedroom into the guest room, that discomfort had eventually disappeared.
I stripped and stood under the shower, streaming hot water all over my body to take away the chill. I bundled my hair up into a bun and put on a shower cap, though, because I didn’t trust that our power would hold and I didn’t want to face a power outage with cold, wet, hair.
Finally, feeling warmer and more relaxed, I toweled off and dressed in a bohemian skirt and a V-neck sweater. I brushed my hair and held it back with a headband. Then I touched up my makeup, put on a pair of comfortable ballerina flats, and headed downstairs.
Xi and Klaus were sitting in front of the fireplace, staring with wide eyes at the dancing flames. Killian was in the kitchen, by the sound of his whistling, and I caught a sudden whiff of what smelled like Thanksgiving. I peeked in to find him stirring a pot.
“What are you cooking? It smells delicious.”
“Turkey soup. I found some leftover diced turkey in the freezer. I hope you don’t mind.” He looked up from the stove, smiling.
“Of course not. You’re making soup from scratch? Yum.” I moved to the other counter, where the cutting board and paring knife were sitting. I scooped the potato and carrot peelings into the garbage, then tossed away the bag that the frozen broccoli had been in, and rinsed the knife and board. “Why don’t we reheat up the rest of the corn muffins?”
There were still eight muffins in the refrigerator. “I’ll heat these up in the microwave right before the soup is done.” I leaned against Killian and he wrapped his free arm around my waist and planted a kiss on my forehead.
I leaned in, resting my lips on his, and he kissed me deeply, setting the spoon down so he could fully embrace me. I caught my breath, wanting him right there, right then.
“Can you really smell me when I’m…” I suddenly felt shy. It seemed such an odd thing to have to ask.
“Yes, I can,” Killian said. “Wolf shifters can always smell their mates and how they’re feeling, if the emotion is strong enough. I could smell your fear when I first arrived down at the Spit & Whistle Pub. I could smell your worry on the drive home, and now, I can smell that…you want me. I want you too, but we can’t just run off and leave your guest to fend for herself.” He gathered my face in his hands, then kissed my forehead again, and the tip of my nose, and then my mouth.