How to Howl at the Moon (11 page)

Lance sighed.

“Or maybe you’re too old? Can’t quite move quick enough? Your eyesight going? Is that it, buddy?” Tim pouted in mock sympathy.

Another growl rumbled, clearly audible, in Chance’s throat.

Tim laughed. “Okay, okay. How about this? We’ll make it a game. The first one of us to miss catching the popcorn has to run around the outside of the cabin three times barking the whole time—or singing as the case may be. Deal?”

Chance sat up and narrowed his eyes. He gave a sharp bark.
Now that, I would pay to see
.

“Okay. I’ll go first.” Tim tossed a piece of popcorn high and caught it in his mouth, but just barely.

Lance licked his lips, sitting up straighter.

“Okay, you now. Ready?” Tim paused with the piece of popcorn in his hand.

Lance watched intently. Tim threw the popcorn. Lance snatched it out of the air and swallowed it.

“Ooh, score!” Tim gave him a distant high-five. “You think you’re going to win this, don’t you, tuna breath?”

Lance huffed.
Duh. Bring it, muppet.

Tim caught his second one and so did Lance. Really, Lance was at a disadvantage, because Tim had to throw the popcorn harder and aim to get it to him, whereas all he had to do for himself was toss it up. But Lance was fast and he was determined to get the projectile no matter how wild Tim’s throw was. And get it he did.

You cannot win, human. Surrender
.

Tim missed his thirteenth piece, which bounced off his chin. Lance snatched it mid-air before it hit the floor.

“Ooh, that hurt!” Tim pretended he’d been stabbed in the chest. “Way to show me up.”

Lance barked and went to the door and stared at it.

“Yeah, yeah. I can see you’re looking forward to this, Torquemada. Just let me put my shoes on.”

The song Tim chose for his moonlight run was
We Will Rock You
. Lance decided to jog along so he could hear the full rendition clearly. After three laps around the cabin, Tim ran out into the big clearing behind the house and continued to sing, now tossing his bangs around like a headbanger and playing an air guitar. Lance dashed back and forth around Tim like he was on speed. It was his dog’s way of laughing.

His human was happy, and that made Lance’s canine delirious.

No,
Tim Weston
was happy, and that made Lance Beaufort feel pretty damned good too.

But it was cold, and before long Tim was rambling on about avoiding the wrath of Vincent Price’s ghost by finishing his movie, and in they went. Lance decided the damage had already been done, so he jumped back up on the couch with Tim and let himself be snuggled tight.

But when Tim went to bed later that night, Lance refused to go along despite Tim’s wheedling. He slept in the living room again, curled up in the corner on the comforter.

He slipped out at dawn.

Trouble with a Tail

“
LANCE JAMISON
Beaufort, you have lost your ever-loving mind!”

Of course it was only a matter of time before his mother sniffed it out. Lance groaned in
despair
. He was so unprepared for
the
hellacious scene he
knew he
was about to
witness
. He would have banged his head on the desk, but he was in too big a hurry to get up and shut his office door.

“Voice down, please, Mother,” he told the bristling, five-foot-three dynamo. Yes, never let it be said that Lance Beaufort wasn’t an optimist.

But surprisingly, Lily did switch to a stage whisper, which meant she really was embarrassed. “I can’t believe what Bill McGurver just told me! You’re playing
dog
with some strange human man!”

“It’s not what it looks like.” Lance returned to the refuge of his desk. “And thank Bill for me next time you see him, by the way.”

“Oh, fuff! As if anyone could keep anything from me! Now I wanna know what’s going on! Were you really hit by this man’s car? What were you even doing out there? And why are you still going back?”

“I’m not—” Lance started to lie. But the look on his mother’s face dared him to try it. He rethought his words. How did she know he’d been going back? No one knew that, not even Bill McGurver.

As if reading his mind, Lily huffed. “You’re as predictable as the spring rains, son of mine, and as boring as drying paint. Unless there’s an emergency, you’re home every night by seven,
you eat dinner
by yourself
, go for a run, watch exactly one hour of TV
by yourself
, and go to bed at ten o’clock. If God ever loses his watch, he only has to look at Lance Beaufort to get back on schedule.”

“I am not that predictable.”

“I’ve called you the past three nights at nine o’clock because I wanted to make sure you’re coming over Saturday night for our pack dinner. I
always
reach you at nine o’clock, Lance. So I know you weren’t home. Three nights in a row! You were at
his
house, weren’t you?”

It had been four nights, actually. Four nights in a row, ever since the night Tim had ‘hit’ Chance. There was a frantic, hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar sense of doom that only Lance’s mother could inspire in him, and apparently it was a sensation he’d never outgrow. He felt the tips of his ears grow burning hot, and he knew they were fleshy beacons of his shame.

“I’ve been having trouble with my phone,” he tried.

Lily took two strides to the desk, leaned over it with both hands braced on the surface, and stared.

“Okay, yes! I have been over there. But it’s for work. And… and it’s work related!”

“Oh? Explain that to me, because I thought you were
the sheriff, not in training for a role in
Lassie
.”

Lance sighed. There was no way around it. He’d have to tell her everything. So he did. He explained about overhearing Tim in the diner, about all the seed trays, and the field, and the false name, and his fears about pot growers moving into town.

“So I’m just doing a little reconnaissance, that’s all. It happens to be easier in dog form. Tim—Mr. Traynor to you, Mother—gets defensive when I try to talk to him as myself. You know how it is. I can be a little… off-putting.”

“You? Off-putting?” Lily said,
with oceans of sarcasm
. “So you’re spending time in this potential drug dealer’s home as a dog. To spy on him.”

Lance wanted to protest, but yeah, that was pretty much it. He shrugged.

“Lance, that’s a terrible idea! This man is dangerous! What if he gets abusive, huh? What if he locks you outside in a cage overnight and you can’t get out and you freeze to death?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “This is California, Mother. With my fur, I couldn’t freeze to death in Alaska. Anyway, you’re always saying I should spend more time as a dog. You should be delighted.”

“I want you to spend more time as a dog
with us
, not with a drug dealer! What if he poisons your food just for kicks? Or sells you to a dog fighting operation? Or gets you
neutered
. Have you thought of that?”

Lance hadn’t, actually. A bolt of fear accompanied by a sympathetic stab of pain made him cross his legs.

“What if he hurts you? You’re completely vulnerable in your dog form, Lance. Your teeth are no match for a gun or knife. If he gets rough, smacks you around, what are you going to do? Change back and punch his face? Then he’ll know about us, won’t he!”

“Oh for God’s sake! You are so off base, Mother. Tim is probably the nicest human I’ve ever met. I know I said he might be growing pot, but even if he is, he’s not mean or capable of violence. If you saw the way he acts… he
loves
Chance! If anything, he’ll kiss me to death. He said he
’s
always wanted a dog and he’s… I’m… he’s…”

His mother went absolutely still. When Lily went still, that was not a good sign. “Chance?”

Lance’s ears burned hotter. “That’s, uh, what he named me. My dog. When I’m there. My dog form. It was something Bill said and…. What?”

Lily came around the side of the desk, invading Lance’s last remnant of protective buffer. She planted her behind on his desk and leaned in, looking in his eyes like she was taking inventory of his eyelashes.

“Oh. My. Stars. You like him.”

Lance made a mocking
pfft!
sound. He found himself avoiding her eyes, though, and looking out the window. That was submissive behavior. He forced himself to meet her gaze, challengingly.

“I told you—it’s a job. A few days from now, it’ll be done, and that’ll be that.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Lance sighed. “Look, he’s growing all these trays of plants in his greenhouse, and he won’t
tell me what they are. So once they sprout, I’ll have Roman go over there and check them out. He’s trained in drug sniffing. And if he gives the all-clear, that’s it. ‘Chance’ will disappear. And if it turns out Mr. Traynor
is
into things he shouldn’t be, I’ll… I’ll
..
arrest him.”

Those words were harder to say than
they should be
. Already, he couldn’t imagine putting Tim in handcuffs and forcing him into a car like a criminal. Maybe it would be enough to just give him a good scare. A stern talking to. A ticket to leave town.

Inside, Lance’s dog whined.

Lily was still watching him with those all-seeing eyes. “And how long will this sprouting business take? Do you even know?”

“Of course I know! I looked it up. Seed germination takes ten to twenty-one days, and he started that stuff at least a week ago, so it’ll be any day now.”

He could see Lily’s brain working away. “Why can’t you just go over there at night when he’s asleep and peek in the greenhouse? Why do you have to be
inside
the house?”

Lance felt an uncomfortable burn in his chest, his temper sparking. He didn’t like his methods being questioned. “Initially, I wanted to check out the house too. At this point, making sure he’s comfortable with Chance means I have free access to the property, inside and out, when I need it.”

“Lance, son, you are playing with fire.”

“I have it under control. It’s fine.”

Lily
tsked
. “Promise me you won’t go back there.”

Lance stood up and met Lily glare for glare. “I’ll do exactly what I de
cide is
necessary, Mother.”

Lance had learned young that you either stood up to Lily or you got run over by her. And he wasn’t the type to appreciate being run over. In fact, most of the time he said
no
to her
on principle, like exercising a muscle.

Lily glared a while longer. “Fine,” she said at last. “Don’t listen to
your older and far wiser mother
. But you’ll be sorry.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m already sorrier than you could possibly imagine. Now
you
promise
me
you won’t interfere, or mention it to anyone, or poke your nose in, or follow Mr. Traynor along the street when he comes into town, or do anything else that comes into your focused little brain. This isn’t your problem, it’s my problem, and I’ve got this, and I don’t want you anywhere near it. My. Territory. Understood?”

Lily snorted. “As if I would tell anyone! You think I want it spread around that my son’s into puppy play?”

Lance felt his temper supernova. Yes, that was really quite an interesting sensation, the way the cells inside his chest spontaneously burst into flame. “I AM NOT INTO PUPPY PLAY! AND HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT TERM?”

Lily waved her hand as if he was being silly. “Please. Like I was born fifty years old.”

“I want to be stricken dead. Right now,” Lance groaned and hid his face.