Free Tooth and Claw (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 2) by Lisa Emme

best vantage point, so I found myself a discreet yet well
positioned spot in the last pew.
    Jonathan Turner had been a popular guy judging from the
turnout at his funeral. It looked like half the college student population was
in attendance, with the representation skewed to the female half.
    When a ghost finally showed up, it wasn’t the one I had been
expecting. Instead, the large, grey ghost wolf padded up the church aisle. Before
I could ponder what his presence might mean, Nash arrived.
    Nash’s appearance sent the female college contingent into a
tizzy. Across the entire congregation, small pockets of girls sitting together
in two’s and three’s erupted into frantic whispers and hushed giggles as they craned
their necks to catch glimpses of him as he stalked up and down the aisle. I
can’t say as I blame them; Nash did cut a damn fine figure in his charcoal suit.
His aquiline nose and distinctive cheekbones, combined with his perpetual five
o’clock shadow, gave him that handsome rogue look. I’m sure if he had turned
his attention to one of the college girls and smiled at them, they would have
fainted on the spot. Instead, his eyes met mine, and the look he gave me was less
smile, more mild annoyance. Needless to say, I didn’t feel faint.
    He crossed the church and sat beside me, forcing me to scoot
over to make room for him on the bench seat. I’m pretty sure he took perverse
pleasure in making me uncomfortable, sitting so close that I found myself
squished up against the side of the pew trying to keep our thighs from
touching.
    “So,” he leaned in close and whispered, “is he here?”
    “No, I don’t see him. I don’t think he’s here,” I replied.
    “Then why are you still here?”
    “Because there is an unexpected visitor.”
    “What are you talking about?” The service was about to
begin and Nash frowned, impatient for an answer.
    Not wanting to disturb anyone around us, I grabbed his hand
and looked over to where the ghost wolf was pacing at the front of the church.
Nash followed my gaze.
    “What’s…” he started to say, then grimaced looking around in
apology. “What’s he doing here?” he continued in a whisper.
    I shrugged and pulled my hand from Nash’s. Holding his hand
was making me feel all warm and tingly, which in turn was just making me feel
uncomfortable.
    The service, being Protestant this time instead of Catholic,
was mercifully shorter. I spent the majority of the service just watching the
wolf. He had paced about at the front of the church for some time, before
taking to roaming up and down the aisles. Twice he stopped at a particular pew
and stared down the row of people who were all oblivious to him.
    “What is he doing? Nash hissed at me and grabbed for my hand
where I had it folded in my lap.
    I pulled my hands away with a scowl. “Nothing. You don’t
need to see,” I hissed back.
    Nash arched an eyebrow at me as if to say ‘I’ll be the judge
of that’ and put his hand on my bare thigh. I knew I should have worn
tights. The warmth of his hand on my skin sent a little jolt through me and
he paused taking a deep breath. I scowled at him and tried to push his hand
away, but he held fast. He shot me a grin and then looked around the church, searching
for the wolf, finding him at the front near the altar where he had started
pacing again.
    When the service ended and the congregation rose to its feet,
I pushed Nash’s hand away, earning another cheeky grin from him. I stood up
and moved to the side aisle of the church trying to spot where the wolf had
disappeared. The crowd had begun to thin, although I noticed there seemed to
be a lot of young women still lingering about on Nash’s side of the aisle, when
I spotted a flash of grey. The wolf was stalking across the altar of the
church to the side door leading down to the refectory in the basement.
    “Come on,” I said, grabbing Nash by the sleeve. “I need
some coffee.”
    “Here? You want to stay here?