Werewolf in the North Woods Read Online Free PDF Page B

need the wipers every couple of seconds and the asphalt was shiny and wet. So far this week the convertible top had been a waste. He had yet to see a sunny day.
    Still, the Corvette was a sweet car to drive on a temporary basis. He’d always prefer his Ferrari, but the Corvette hugged the curves and purred like a contented cat. Growing up he’d longed to be a race car driver, but drivers spent too much time in crowds and on camera. A Were needed a certain amount of privacy because sometimes, shift happened. Ha, ha.
    As he neared the general store, he thought about his phone message yesterday afternoon, which had turned out to be a text from his brother, Aidan, announcing that Emma was pregnant. So Roarke had spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone with Aidan, Emma, and his parents as they all celebrated the news. Although it was too soon to tell whether the baby would be a boy or girl, Roarke doubted that was the question on everyone’s mind.
    Instead of mating with a Were as he’d been expected to do, Aidan had mated with Emma, a human. Would their kid be Were or human? Nobody knew. The baby would look like a human child until puberty, so the family would have to wait for the verdict until then. At puberty a Were child began showing signs of being able to shift.
    Aidan’s choice had rocked the Wallace family to its foundation, and although Roarke liked Emma, even loved her as a sister-in-law, he still didn’t approve of Aidan’s decision. Weres mated with Weres, and that’s what Roarke would do. He hadn’t found anyone yet, but he wouldn’t turn thirty until next year. Aidan hadn’t married until he was thirty-two. Roarke had time.
    His immediate concern regarding females, Were or human, was what to do about Abby Winchell, who made him think of cool sheets and hot sex. She was here visiting and so was he, which made for a potential fling, a shipboard romance minus the ship.
    Except, as he’d determined yesterday, he didn’t have the time. He sighed as he pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of Dooley’s General Store. Maybe he’d luck out and find the Bigfoot pair this afternoon, arrange for their relocation before dinner, and be free to party with Abby tonight. Dream on, Wallace.
    Climbing out of the low-slung car, he took a deep breath of pungent, rain-soaked earth before surveying the store in front of him. Yes, it was a little run-down, the gray siding a tad bit weathered, but Roarke felt welcomed by the covered front porch complete with four rocking chairs. True, the chairs were wet with rain that had blown in. But if Portland ever had a sunny day—and Roarke had been assured there were many sunny days in Portland—those chairs would provide a relaxing spot to watch the world go by.
    A row of stained-glass sun catchers hung in each window on either side of the door. Roarke wondered if anyone ever bought them or if the display was evidence of wishful thinking. Personally Roarke didn’t mind the constant light rain, which created such beautiful and werewolf-concealing foliage and washed away incriminating wolf tracks. But he did miss being able to drive with the top down.
    A mechanical bird twittered as he opened the front door and stepped inside. True to its label of “general store,” Dooley’s seemed to stock a little bit of everything. Roarke smelled coffee brewing, wood smoke, and the musty odor of canvas. A quick scan of the shelves revealed camping gear, groceries, fishing tackle, kids’ toys, and Portland souvenirs.
    At first Roarke thought the place was empty, but then his Were senses picked up Abby’s distinctive aroma. A second later she appeared from the back room and walked toward him. Today she looked more like the woman he’d seen on the outcropping than the one who had appeared at the Rotary meeting. She’d pulled her bright hair up into a ponytail and she wore jeans and a green Kiss me, I’m Irish sweatshirt.
    The sentiment on the sweatshirt made him wonder if she was