Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(23)

“Thanks.” The advice was more disappointing than anything. Figuring out my magic was a huge task, and one that I didn’t really have time for. I also had no idea how to figure it out.

“Come back any time you need help,” she said. “And good luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” I rang off and looked down at Poa.

She gave me a grudging nod. I suppose you didn’t boff it.

“No, but it might have been easier if I had.” My head spun with what I’d been told, and I knew I needed a break from thinking about my magic. “I’m going to go clean the back garden. I need to give my mind some time to clear, and I can’t keep delaying work on the house.”

I’ll come with you. I’m sure there’s a patch of sun that needs my attention.

Poa accompanied me around to the back. The garden was as wild as I remembered, and I decided to start on the rear wall of the house, where vines grew up over the stone and some of the windows. If I could get those cleared away, the house could breathe better.

I frowned. Why was I thinking of the house breathing? That was odd.

But I couldn’t fight the feeling that it was suffocating, maybe because it looked choked by all the greenery on the wall. I had to fix it.

Poa found herself a spot to snooze in the sun, and I found a little shed in the back corner of the garden. Within were some rusty old gardening tools, but they worked well enough once I used a spell to fix them up. I found a pair of leather gloves and pulled them on, then went to the wall and began to tear the dead vines away.

Hours passed as I worked. Using my hands and having something simple to focus on allowed my mind to wander around my problems. It was a less stressful way to look for solutions, and that was the most likely path to success.

By the time it was dark, I was sweaty and filthy. Tiny dead leaves were stuck all through my hair, and dirt covered much of my skin. But the back of the house looked much better, and I was no longer as worried. I had an idea that I could start to work on tomorrow.

For now, I desperately needed a shower and some food. I’d forgot to eat lunch, and I was pretty sure I’d fall over soon if I didn’t get something in my stomach.

Poa had abandoned me once her spot was no longer sunny, so I headed down to the boathouse alone. Rafe was nowhere to be seen as I let myself into the main house, but I felt his presence. He was probably in the back room.

Before he could come out and see what a mess I was, I hurried up to my flat. My stomach was roaring as I made myself a quick sandwich and gobbled it down. Once I’d eaten, I hurried to the bathroom, stripping on my way there. I was desperate to get out of my dirty clothes. I might not even wait for the shower to warm up before I got in.

In the bathroom, I reached for the tap and turned on the shower. It groaned as the metal neck of the shower rattled, and I had only a second to feel panic before metal dislodged and a spray of water hit me in the face.

I shrieked, stumbling backward. The water continued to pelt me from where the showerhead had fallen off, and I scrambled to reach the handle. It spun uselessly, and I gave another shriek of frustration. Water continued to spray.

“Isobel?” Rafe’s voice sounded from outside the door. “Are you all right? I’m coming in.”

I squawked, grabbing for a towel to cover my nakedness. I’d just wrapped it around myself when Rafe pushed open the door and stood there like a rescuing hero. He took in my towel-clad form, and heat replaced the worry in his eyes. It was there and gone so quickly that I thought I might have imagined it.

“I thought you were being attacked,” he said.

“I was.” I pointed to the showerhead, which was still spraying. “By that.”

“Did you try turning it off?”

I gave him a light whack on the shoulder. “Of course I did. But the handle just kept spinning.”

As if the shower were offended that I’d tried to stop it, a jet of water hit me in the back of the head. I gave another small shriek of frustration. “I just needed a shower!”

“You do.”

“Jerk!” I gave him another little whack, fully aware that I was flirting but unable to help myself.

“You can shower in mine, if you want,” he said. “I’ll fix this while you do.”

“Wow. That’s way nicer of you than I’d expected.”

He shrugged, then tapped his nose. “It's just that I’m a werewolf, and I have a fantastic sense of smell.”

I gasped. “Are you saying that I stink?”

“I would never.”

“Liar.”

A reluctant smile crossed his face, and I was pretty sure that he was flirting back with me.

The smile fell, and the glower returned. “You should go before this room floods.”

“Right. Of course.” The grump had returned, but at least he was familiar. I left without another word, heading downstairs to his bathroom. I had to go through his bedroom to reach it, and it was far tidier than I’d anticipated. Tommy had been so messy, and I’d assumed it was a guy thing. More likely it was the fact that I cleaned up after him.

I scanned the room as I walked toward the bathroom door, unable to help myself from trying to learn a little more about him. But it was so empty. Maybe that was one reason it was so tidy: Rafe just didn’t have a lot of stuff. Like, it was barren. Prison-cell barren.