Sharon’s note: So, I threatened to write this on Facebook, so here it goes. One wholesome, fated mate werewolf romance, complete with actual alpha behavior coming up. Warning: Author finds herself writing a lot of romance lately, and is curious about this turn in her writing.
Dad’s house was across from the park. For a small town, it had a marvelous park, complete with a fair sized duck pond and a pristinely kept track with exercise stations. Children ran screaming around the playground, kicking up the cedar chips that filled the pit around the equipment. Most of the parents were sitting on benches, chatting and enjoying the sunny day. One man was playing tag with a group of kids on the open grass.
I had to admit to looking at him a little long. He wore a black tee-shirt that stretched over a nicely muscled, broad-shouldered frame. Tight jeans showed off his . . . assets well. His dark hair was tied back in a short ponytail that was an adorable poof at the back of his head. Physically, he was a stunning specimen, but what I couldn’t stop staring at was his smile. Even at a distance, he had a sweet, heart melting grin that was all joy and no guile.
Our eyes met, and he froze in place. Several small children ran into the back of his legs and they all fell over in a pile. I laughed and turned to unlock the door. That was enough admiring the scenery when I had a job to do.
Dad’s house always smelled overwhelmingly of eucalyptus. It wasn’t a bad smell, there was just a lot of it. I’d hoped that Alice, his new wife, would convince him that there were other scents, but either she had failed, or was just as big a fan as he was. Baskerville, Dad’s ancient hound dog trotted up to the door. He peered at me through milky eyes, gave a single, tiered woof to let me know that he was still a good guard dog, then proceeded to sniff and lick the top of my shoe.
“You can lick all you want, buddy, but I think I got all the katchup off.” Baskerville didn’t pay any attention to me, and continued slobbering all over my sneakers. I stepped around him into the house, and he whined in complaint. I sighed. “Spoiled mutt. Come on, I’ll feed you.”
He huffed, and trotted ahead of me. The goofy old thing had never figured out ‘stay’ or ‘get off the couch’, but he understood ‘feed’ well enough. I followed him to the kitchen and had to chuckle. One improvement of Dad’s new married life was that the kitchen was spotless and tidy. I’d house sat for him before. Dad kept things hygienic, but he wasn’t an orderly person. There were always odd projects scattered over his kitchen table. Last time it was a giant puzzle with a picture of a dragon.
The dog food was under the kitchen sink, like always. I got a scoop and dumped it into Baskerville’s bowl, who nearly knocked me over on his way to inhale his lunch. He didn’t even look up when the doorbell rang.
I rolled my eyes, but grinned all the way to the door to check the peephole. The guy from the park was bouncing on his heels on the doorstep, a nervous grin spread over his face. This close I could tell his eyes were bluish gray. I latched the chain on the door and opened it.
“Hello?” I said.
“Um, yeah, hi.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “My name is Sam. I know your dad. You’re his daughter, Jennifer, right? He mentioned you’d be watching his house while he was on his honeymoon. I just thought I’d introduce myself.”
Gray Matters: The Works of Sharon and James Gray 