Dueling Moons: A Pat Wyatt Novel (The Pat Wyatt Series Book 2) by Laura Del Page B

were in order, another note made an appearance. It read:
    Heard you needed a new one.
    S.
    I shook my head, crumpled the note, and threw it out the door. “Jerk!”
    Finally, the reality of the situation sunk in. I would have to give the car back. That very thought made me sad, which is most likely why he had sent it. He knew I would have this kind of problem. “Son of a bitch,” I said quietly and with feeling.
    I had to give it back. Then again, he did destroy the first one, in which case I would keep it. But this was certainly a ploy to get me back in his grasp. I have to give it back. But she’s so pretty. Keep it.
    My internal dilemma stopped when someone knocked on the windshield. I jumped a mile and looked up to see Elliot standing there smiling at me. “Stag,” I breathed, “you scared me to half to death.”
    I hopped out of the car, turning her off. Then I grabbed my purse on the way out, and he backed up so I could shut and lock the door.
    He smiled down at me, eyeing the car carefully. “This your new car?”
    I grimaced. “Yes…no…I don’t know.”
    “What do you mean, you don’t know?” he asked, laughing at me. It wasn’t funny.
    “It’s a difficult situation,” I said curtly, narrowing my eyes. I know it was wrong to be upset with him, but Stag was here and Samuel was in New York. Somebody had to pay.
    “Let me guess,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder, “the husband?” He gestured to the car.
    I nodded, and then shook my head when I remembered. “ Ex - husband .”
    As we started to walk away from the car, he asked, “Why all of a sudden is he your ex?”
    I shrugged, feeling the smile spread across my face. “He signed the divorce papers.”
    “Get out. That’s great!” He picked me up, swinging me around. Good thing I didn’t have any breakfast or I would’ve vomited all over him.
    When he set me down on the ground, I staggered as the world spun and he caught me. “I guess it is.”
    “All right,” he said, pointing at me, “you confuse me, girly.”
    When everything stopped going around in circles, I sighed. “I confuse myself sometimes.”
    He folded his arms. “Well, I don’t care. I’m takin’ you out to celebrate, whether you like it or not.”
    I looked down at myself, realizing I was still in my robe. “Like this?”
    “After you get dressed.”
    I nodded in agreement, and we walked back to my apartment.
    Pushing the box aside, I walked into the bedroom to get dressed. Mike snored away as I put on a pair of low - rise jeans and my Edward Scissorhands shredded tank top with a black cardigan over it. I put on my black boots, taking my gray peacoat out of the closet. It was too cold outside not to wear it. When I was done dressing, I pulled my hair up into a loose ponytail, placed my cell phone in my back pocket, grabbed my keys, and I was ready to go.
    It only took me about ten minutes to get dressed, and I usually didn’t bother with make - up , so it never took more me time than was necessary.
    As I walked into the living room, Stag’s eyes widened. “Holy shit,” he whispered, looking at his watch. “That was a world record, girly.”
    I laughed, now realizing what he was wearing. He had on a brown and cream plaid shirt open at his chest to show the black t - shirt underneath, with a pair of dark wash jeans and brown cowboy boots that finished off his unusual look. He looked like he belonged on a farm, and I kind of liked it.
    “Why don’t you have a coat?” I asked, walking over to my computer desk so I could write Mike a note.
    He shrugged. “I’m not cold. Actually, I’m never cold.”
    I put the note on the coffee table, looking up at him. “Is that a werewolf thing? Because Mike is never cold either.”
    “Yeah, it is. We run a little hot so it’s harder to get cold.”
    “Huh,” I said, putting on my coat and placing my handbag over my shoulder. “Interesting.”
    “You ready?”
    I held out my arms. “Don’t I look