Werewolf Sings the Blues by Jennifer Harlow

disease. You should be aware of this fact to correct it.”
    Is this dude for real? “Yeah, but … just don’t okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    We eat in silence for a few moments. I hate it. “So, I called a friend of mine. Apparently Donovan—”
    â€œYou did what?” he asks, mouth still full.
    â€œDon’t worry, I didn’t tell him where I was. I’m not a total idiot. Besides, he won’t narc. He promised. Don’t you want to know what he said? About the police?”
    â€œYou mean that I’m an escaped convict named Gavin, and that I’ve kidnapped you? I know. I have since this morning. We have a contact inside the F.R.E.A.K.S. This Donovan must have switched my photo inside the system into the file of a real fugitive. My real name would trigger a F.R.E.A.K.S. investigation. Neither party wants them involved. There’s bodies on both our sides. Agent Price is just feeding the pack information. We’re on top of this. You shouldn’t make any more calls. It’s too dangerous. Don’t do it again,” he says, catching my eyes. His voice was neutral but those eyes are cutting. On instinct, I lean back farther in my chair.
    â€œI-I won’t. Sorry.” I stare down at my food, away from his gaze. I think I prefer him commenting on my weight more than attempting to draw blood with his eyes.
    â€œJust don’t do it again. Please,” he adds as an afterthought.
    I nod. Once again, we fall into agonizing silence. After a few seconds, I look up and see his head hanging as he chows on his burger. Crap, did I hurt his feelings again? He notices me glancing up. I smile apologetically. “Not quite the sister you imagined, huh?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat did you think I’d be like?”
    â€œSofter. Fragile. Innocent.”
    With each of those words my urge to laugh rises, but that last adjective pushes me over the edge. I let out a chuckle. “Oh, man.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing, it’s just … those are the exact wrong fucking words to describe me. What the hell did Frank tell you? I was a Disney princess or something?” The chuckles die off a few seconds later as he doesn’t join in. I don’t know, maybe he’s incapable of laughter. “So, is my lack of princess status a good or bad thing?”
    â€œI’m sorry?”
    â€œAm I a huge disappointment? Do you wish I was swooning every five seconds?”
    His eyes narrow in confusion. “Of course not. That would slow
us down.”
    No guile. No guile whatsoever. Refreshingly cute, yet aggravating. “Right. Didn’t think of that.” I move my gaze down to the food I shove in my mouth. I cannot get a read on this cat. It’s driving me nuts.
    â€œDid I say something wrong again?” he asks.
    â€œNo,” I say with a reassuring smile. Thank God I’m done eating. I collect my trash, sticking it in the bag. “I think I’ll take a swim.”
    â€œThat’s not advisable. You should stay in the room, out of sight.”
    I rise anyway. “Yeah, that’s not happening. If you’re worried, you can always join me.”
    â€œI didn’t buy a swimsuit.”
    â€œThen wear your underwear. Or nothing,” I suggest with an impish grin. “I’m game if you are.”
    Yes! Score another blush. And he thought I’d be the innocent one. I start rifling through my freshly packed suitcase for my bikini.
    â€œI’ll sit nearby and watch you.”
    As I pull out the bikini, I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so that’s what you’re into, Blondie? Think that can be accommodated.”
    â€œThat’s not—I …” he says, flustered and now red as a stop sign.
    I giggle. “You are adorable, you know that? Really.” I give him a big smile. “Be out in a minute, handsome.”
    I close the bathroom door and begin undressing, a thrilling tingle