Werewolf Me by Amarinda Jones Page A

pleasantries. Why was he there? One-night stands were just that. They left after one night, hence the name. Oh yeah, and then there was yesterday…
    “And you are?”
    “Confused.”
    Murphy leaned his side against the counter. “I never said I wouldn’t stick around.”
    “Well I thought—”
    “A couple of quick uncomplicated fucks and you’d never see me again, petal?”
    “Well yeah, and don’t call me petal.”
    “Well, you were wrong and you remind me of a flower.”
    Okay, Houston we have a problem. Hot, sexy man with a killer smile. I just know I am going to do something stupid. Again . “Look, I’m not interested in you.”
    Murphy arched his eyebrow. “I’m not specifically here because of you.”
    “Right.” Truro wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or annoyed that he hadn’t had a wild urge to stay in town and make love to her until she could think of nothing but him. And what’s with the word “specifically”? That made her wary. It indicated options of contemplation. There was nothing to contemplate as far as Truro was concerned. She didn’t want any more with him. He was exactly the sort of guy she could quite easily fall in love with. He was the opposite of Rodney the rodent. He was quiet, watchful and he listened. She knew from his stance and soft brown eyes his entire attention was focused on her. “I never indicated you were here because of me.” Truro picked up and twisted the deposit form in her hand. She wasn’t about to get all pathetic over a man she’d had great sex with. “How many nights?”
    “What can you give me?”
    Were they talking about accommodation or something more? Truro dropped the deposit slip and reached for the antiquated guest register Bess favored. “The van? Up to you. How long do you plan to stay?” Even as she said the words, Truro closed her legs together tightly.
    “I’m uncertain, petal,” Murphy responded, his voice light yet pointed as he watched her every move. “It depends how my—er, business goes.”
    God, he had the sweetest, most soulful eyes. Truro gave herself a mental shake . It was sex. It was good. You are over it. This is business. Rent the van. Collect money. Be responsible. O-kay. “What do you do?” She tried to concentrate on finding the current page and not on the man.
    “I’m into nature.”
    “And you make money out of that?” Truro doubted it.
    Murphy reached over and took the book from her hands, easily flipping forward to the present date. “Not everything in life is about money.” He handed her back the book, fingers brushing as he did. “You’ll have to tell me.”
    “W-what?” Truro swallowed hard. Who knew she had so many nerves in her hand? She felt all girly and giddy from one simple touch.
    “Your name.”
    “Guess.” It was an inane thing to say but she was feeling a little crazy.
    “Truro.”
    Of course. A small town always had big mouths. “Wow, you’re psychic.”
    Murphy chuckled. “Someone told me.”
    Truro rolled her eyes in cynical amusement. “Not psychic then? Bummer—I was going to ask you to read my palm and get me the winning lotto numbers.”
    “I know your future.”
    Again, the shiver ran down her spine. “Crap pick-up line,” Truro murmured, unable to avoid the knowing look Murphy gave her which indicated the pick up had already occurred quite nicely. “Right well, you want a van. Let’s see what we have.”
    “Something simple will be fine.”
    Which probably meant he was broke. “So does nature turn a profit?” Would he pay the bill? Would she have to go all premenstrual on him to get payment? She had done it before. She scanned the register. Most vans were occupied. They only a couple left including the one closest to hers. Hmmm…should I do that? It’s not like I’m going to let him touch me again is it? It was a one-off—er two-offs. Three-offs never worked.
    “I get by.”
    “I see.” It was none of her business what he did and getting by meant