“Oh, cac,” he said again. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way…”
“Find out what? That you’re a pervert, who sneaks into women’s homes butt naked?”
“Yesterday… That was me!” he exclaimed, covering himself with a cushion.
The lamp almost fell from my grasp.
He shied away. “The wolf in the forest…”
I wasn’t following. The wolf was his pet, and he was taking it for a walk? Was he training it to maul innocent women to death? I knew Derrydun was weird but homicidal? That was a new one I didn’t see coming.
“That wolf is yours?” I asked, screwing up my face. “It almost ripped me apart!”
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “The fox…” He seemed to be having trouble getting his story straight, which wasn’t helping my mood.
“Get out,” I demanded. “Get out of my house before I call the police.”
“Nay! I was the fox! I was the fox…”
I screwed up my face. “You were the fox?”
“Think about it,” he pleaded. “Yesterday you saw me limpin’. You asked me if I was all right.”
I stared at him, my thoughts going back to yesterday morning at Mary’s Teahouse. He said he’d banged his knee. He banged his knee.
“You were the fox?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “You?”
“Skye, you’ve gotta believe me.”
“I don’t gotta do anything,” I declared. “What are you doing in my house? How did you get in?”
“Buddy…” he began.
“Father O’Donegal’s tabby cat?” I made a face. “A house cat can unlock doors now?”
“Nay… I…”
“Spit it out, Boone.”
“I…” He stared at the floor, his shoulders sinking. “There’s too much to explain. I can’t tell you here… They’ve already come lookin’.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I exclaimed. “My patience is wearing real thin, you know.”
His gaze met mine, and there was desperation in his eyes that almost frightened me. “Go to the hawthorn in the forest. Go there, and I will tell you everythin’. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“You want me to go into the forest, alone, with you?” I scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m not dumb. I’m not going back out there!”
“Please,” he pleaded, looking forlorn.
It was such a genuine expression I almost caved, but how did you believe a naked man who magically appeared in your room telling wild stories about being a fox who saved your life? Anyway, I ended up saving the fox from being torn apart, so there!
I screwed my eyes shut and let out an annoyed cry. “Get out!”
“Please, Skye. You’ll be safe. The wolf is gone and won’t be coming back anytime soon. I made sure.”
“I said get out!” This time, I hurled the lamp at him. He ducked just in time, and it crashed against the wall, the globe shattering.
“Cac!” he exclaimed, fleeing from the bedroom. A second later, the cushion flew back into the room, and the sound of his feet slapping on the stairs echoed through the cottage.
Downstairs, the door slammed closed. Padding over to the window, I pressed my forehead against the glass and peered at the garden below. I expected to see a flesh-colored streak sprinting across the yard, but I shied away when I saw Buddy leap over the fence and disappear into the bushes.
Rubbing my eyes, I decided he was just on an early morning adventure collecting mice. He hadn’t been here when I found Boone. He’d never stuck around in the morning, anyway. Boone wasn’t Buddy…was he?
Snorting at the absurd thought, I turned away from the window. The longer I stood there, the more my mood simmered. Thinking of all the strange coincidences that had happened since arriving in Derrydun, my willpower began to break down. The strange man who’d been at Aileen’s wake at Molly McCreedy’s. The trifecta of weird that had stopped me from selling Irish Moon. Sean McKinnon calling me a witch. The escape artist known as Buddy. The wolf almost chomping my face off, and the fox that had fought it off. The wolf that was supposed to be extinct.
I swallowed hard and curled my freezing toes into the fluffy rug underfoot. What if Boone was right? I didn’t want to utter the word ‘supernatural’ but what if…
I shook my head and stomped down the hall into the bathroom. It was stupid. This whole thing was stupid.
Boone was a pervert. A complete and utter closet weirdo.
Wasn’t he?
Chapter 11
It wasn’t every morning someone woke up to find a naked Irishman asleep on the end of their bed. Well, not unless there had been lots of drinking the night before. Considering I’d been sober since Aileen’s funeral, finding Boone that morning had been super creepy.
I didn’t want to meet him at the hawthorn, not after whipping his bare ass with the lamp cord, but he had an awful lot of explaining to do. I also didn’t want to go back into the forest to the clearing where the wolf almost had me for lunch, either. It was bad news.
But curiosity won against fear, and I found myself slinking down the path toward the giant hawthorn tree.
I left Mairead in charge of Irish Moon, telling her I had some errands to run, and she was happy enough to handle things on her own for a while. Ever since the real estate agent crashed his car into the creek, she’d been happy as a clam. She ought to be. Her summer job was secure, and the clueless Australian paid her more than minimum wage because the money felt funny here.
My boots crunched underfoot as I made my way through the forest, the path curling through the thickening trees. Listening, I tried to make out the individual sounds around me, trying to figure out if I was being followed or not. It didn’t help that I didn’t know what I should be listening for in the first place. Everything sounded like a predator out here. Branches snapped and leaves rustled all around me, but it could
