O'Leary

Yeah, stick with her. Jack snorted. Girl couldn’t even toast a bagel, clearly she needed him more than he needed her.

Jack nudged her bare leg with his nose.

“Eh?” she mumbled around a bite of bagel.

Another quick jab and pointed glance at her bagel. Louisa stared blankly as he warmed her icy toes with his paws. That’s right, babe. See how useful I am?

Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Air froze in her lungs as Louisa looked over her shoulder.

Nestled on the other pillow was one of the most handsome faces she had ever seen. Sharply chiseled cheekbones framed by a strong jaw dusted with golden stubble. Long, golden-brown eyelashes lined eyelids closed peacefully in sleep. Gorgeous…and a complete stranger.

A scream burst from her chest, piercing the morning tranquility. There was a stranger in her bed! Louisa leapt from the bed, or tried to anyway. Bedding tangled her limbs as she flailed unsuccessfully.

The angelic creep woke with a jerk. He jumped off the bed and landed in a crouch, his head swiveling as he scanned the room. A frown crinkled his brow as he watched Louisa’s panicked struggle through bleary eyes.

Oh no, he was naked. Like super naked. Louisa’s eyes tracked from his handsome face down his carved chest. A light dusting of hair sprinkled across his chest, trailing down his rock solid abs to his… fucking perfect dick. Holy hell.

Louisa poked her head up over the edge of the bed. Her unwelcome visitor straightened from his crouch, his head cocked to the side as he watched Louisa with wide green eyes. He took a step forward and pitched sideways, nearly falling flat. He caught himself on the footboard, a large, tan hand gripping the bedpost. Pulling himself upright, he raised his hands to touch the lines of his face. His fingertips traced the shape of his mouth and trailed along the bridge of his nose.

“Yes! Finally!” he shouted, triumphantly punching a fist into the air. He winced at the motion.

Louisa watched him warily as he probed his shoulder. Dark lines webbed from his muscled pec outward. His frown slid back into place as he studied the area.

She dropped onto all fours and inched toward the door, her traitorous blankets abandoned. Forcing herself to take slow, calm breaths, Louisa silently crept forward. A shadow blocked out the faint morning light. She froze. He stood over her, staring with a perplexed expression on his face. Shit.

Louisa tested her prison. She couldn’t move one frickin’ inch. Arms pinned at her side, legs trapped beneath his. She wriggled with all her might, fighting for any bit of give.

Jack choked behind her. Great, with her luck, the big weenie was probably dying from her little pinch and she was going to be stuck here, pinned beneath his stupid corpse. Louisa doubled her efforts, squirming with all her worth. No one would ever call her a quitter.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop,” Jack groaned against her ear.

Louisa froze as his words registered. A hard bulge pressed firmly against her ass. No fucking way. On one hand, she was flattered as fuck. On the other? Fuck him. Serves the jerk right, Louisa smirked into the grass

“Everything is not okay,” Louisa yelled at him. “DON’T TELL ME EVERYTHING IS OKAY!”

“You’re right,” Jack backpedaled, leaning away from her. “Everything is not okay… um, which part specifically?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa drawled sarcastically, tears dripping down her face. “I’ve had a really stressful month. My boyfriend fucked my boss and emptied out my savings. I got fired and moved to this crappy little town where everyone treats me like a leper!”

Louisa’s voice grew louder and louder until she was verbally jabbing him. “I’ve been kidnapped by what I can only assume is a cult, and I’m probably going to be murdered in some stupid ritual sacrifice! And now the cute, crazy guy who kidnapped me is making me SPAGHETTI! That is not okay, NONE OF THIS IS OKAY!”

“I can make something else, it doesn’t have to be spaghetti,” Jack muttered.

Louisa grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and hurled them at him. They fluttered weakly to the floor between them.

“THE SPAGHETTI IS NOT THE PROBLEM, MORON!” she yelled, her face turning pink. “I HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED BY A BUNCH OF WEIRDOS!”

“Oh is that all?” Jack winced. Scrubbing a hand over his ear, he tried to stop the ringing that had followed Louisa’s angry shrieking.

“No, I also have a head injury and my favorite pajama pants have been ruined with grass stains,” she sniffled. Louisa eyed the knife

A mouth of razor sharp teeth opened.

“Lou?” he garbled out.

Louisa swallowed. Her eyes wide, air frozen in her lungs. Every primal instinct still lingering from man’s early days of surviving in caves no doubt screamed for her to run away as fast as her legs could carry her. She stood frozen in place.

“Louisa?” Alice called quietly from across the kitchen.

Louisa choked on a scream.

“Right,” she whispered.

Her eyes rolled back into her head as she dropped to the floor. Alice stared down at her unconscious body. Looking back up at Jack, she smiled brightly.

Oh, yeah. Louisa winced. She’d nearly wet her pants when the sweet, fluffy dog had turned out to be a seven-foot demon

“Peanut butter and vanilla.”

“So… a peanut butter cookie?” Louisa deadpanned. “You brought me home because I smell like a cookie?”

The grave expression cracked as she burst out laughing. Louisa buried her face in his shirt as she howled with laughter. A cookie?

Jack raised a hand to silence her. No, he wasn’t ready.

“It’s too soon,” he grumbled. “I need more time to mourn.”

Louisa blinked. “Mourn a window?”

Jack continued his quiet stare. Women. He wasn’t ready to be friendly yet; he was too busy calculating the cost of a new window.

Louisa’s fork clattered in her bowl.

“There’s an owl in your kitchen,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“Yes.”

“There is an owl. In. Your. Kitchen” Louisa said more slowly, as though Jack hadn’t heard her the first time.

“Yes,” he repeated. “She likes spaghetti.”

Louisa stared at him. He continued scooping pasta into his mouth at a leisurely pace. If he was calm, maybe she wouldn’t freak out again. Because who the hell wouldn’t panic if a big-ass bird swooped into their kitchen. Jack twirled his pasta, the picture of serenity. Please don’t start crying again.

“The owl likes spaghetti,” she mumbled under her breath. “Because that’s super normal. Who doesn’t like spaghetti? Not owls, apparently.”

Giving her head a firm shake, Louisa turned back to her food.

The owl started to grow. Pale-auburn feathers melted into skin, turning Jack’s stomach. The spaghetti soured in his belly. No matter how many times he watched her shift, it never got any easier. Bird shifters were just… gross.

Jack sighed. The nice, peaceful lunch he had envisioned was slipping further and further out of reach.

Alice sat primly on the edge of the counter, stark naked. She hopped off the counter and stumbled across the kitchen. She rifled through a bin, her blind eyes squinting.

Louisa turned to Jack, her eyes wide.

“What the hell did you put in this spaghetti?” She poked at her noodles with her fork. “Am I hallucinating?”