Desired by the Wolf Box Set, Page 2

  Lenore's face drooped and she grabbed the handle on the door. "That reminds me, I don't really want to go to the house. Mind letting me out?"

  Her brother shrugged. "All right." He pulled the car over. She opened the door, but paused when he spoke up. "Pity. That guy was kind of interested in showing you the house."

  She paused, glanced over her shoulder and frowned at him. "Nick?" she guessed.

  "Yep. I told him I'd try to get you to come, and he seemed kind of interested in the idea," Stan told her.

  Lenore still wasn't smiling when she slipped back into her seat and slammed the door. "You're real evil, you know that?"

  Stan pulled the car back onto the road. "What are big brothers for?" he countered.

  "Not for setting people up on dates with strange men at creepy houses. That's for the girls of the family to do," she protested.

  "That's sexist. Besides, why would I want you to set up a date for me with a guy?" he teased.

  She rolled her eyes. "Well, whatever you think is between us, it isn't. I just met the guy last night-"

  "-and already gave him your brother's phone number," Stan added.

  "You got the job, didn't you?" she countered.

  "I don't know yet. The place might not be salvageable," he pointed out.

  "That would be a pity," she murmured.

  "Wouldn't it?" he dryly agreed. They drove onward through the old neighborhoods. The road narrowed and the potholes widened until Stan had to play leapfrog over some of the larger holes. "Why did your new boyfriend want to live here?" he asked his sister.

  "He's not my boyfriend, and I have no idea why. Maybe he likes the atmosphere," she suggested.

  "A fan of modern Gothic?" he wondered.

  Lenore grabbed onto the door handle as they jumped and veered around more large potholes. "More like twenty-first century infrastructure collapse," she quipped. The handle jiggled in her hand and she pulled away. "I think you need to get this thing fixed or somebody might fall out," she commented.

  Stan shrugged. "I don't usually have anybody else in here with me. For some reason girls don't like the thing."

  Lenore glanced down at her feet and watched the empty soda cans and fast-food bags roll around the floor. "Geez, I wonder why," she mused.

  "Yeah, mystery, isn't it?" Stan replied. They bumped along for another few blocks where half the houses were replaced by a wilderness of trees. The sidewalks sank into the ground and were replaced with gravel walks, and manicured lawns grew into patches of bushes and wildflowers. They were nearing the end of the city and entering what remained of the forests from which the city had once derived its main manufacturing.

  Stan pulled over and parked the car in front of a two-foot tall rock wall with six stone steps leading up to a yard. He leaned over to the passenger side while Lenore leaned out the window. They stared up at the source of their nightmares, an old Tudor mansion set back from the road and overgrown with vines. Its wooden shutters hung from rusty hinges and the door leaned precariously to one side. The full thirty yards of stone path was choked with weeds, and bushes planted along the path had swallowed what wasn't overgrown. Ancient trees shaded much of the area and dead branches hung from their living brethren waiting for unsuspecting husbands. Others lay scattered on the ground at the bases of the trees.

  "Remind me how you talked me into doing this?" Lenore whispered.

  "Because you talked to that guy," he reminded her.

  "Remind me never to talk to strange men again."

  Stan pulled back and opened his door. He hopped out, strode around the truck, and opened her door. "I'm pretty sure this will scare that memory into you," he replied.

  "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," she grumbled. She slipped out and her brother shut the door behind her. The clang of metal against metal made her jump, and she turned to glare at him. "Do you have to be so loud?" she growled.

  "It's the echo around this place," he defended himself. There was a cavern-like quality to the property, what with the trees with their drooping branches and the bushes hedged around the large yard.

  Lenore sighed, pulled up the waist of her jeans, and pursed her lips. "Well, let's get this over with." She didn't take a step forward. Neither did Stan. They both stood there staring at the long walk to the decrepit house.

  "Ladies first," Stan told her.

  Lenore rolled her eyes, got behind her brother, and pushed him toward the house. "Good thing I'm not a lady," she returned.

  "I stand, or rather, walk, corrected," he quipped.

  The siblings walked along the rough path, fought their way through the wild bushes, and ducked beneath the low limbs to finally arrive at the front door. They paused ten yards from the entrance and looked up. The tall, narrow, filthy windows were like soulless eyes glaring down at them. Dead and living vines mingled together to create a picture of life and death with the house as a canvas.

  "You have the strangest tastes in men," Stan whispered to her.

  "Tell me about it."

  "I just did."

  The door to the house swung open, and almost off its rusted hinges, and Nick stood in the doorway. He had a bright smile on his face and opened his arms to them. "Good morning! I'm glad to see you two are punctual," he greeted them. He held his hand out to Stan, who took it and winced.

  Stan pulled his hand back and flexed his fingers. "You have a good grip, Mr. Connor."

  "Nick, if you please," Nick requested. He turned to Lenore. "A pleasure to see you again, Miss Anderson."

  "If my brother can't call you Mr. Connor then you can't call me Miss Anderson," I teased. "Besides, it makes me feel old." He took her hand and planted a soft kiss on her palm. Her cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. She noticed her brother smirk, and scowled at him.

  Nick's eyes flitted up to meet hers and he smiled. "I don't believe you will ever be old," he replied.

  "Everyone gets old, Nick, just like this house you have here," Stan spoke up as he nodded at the crumbling place. "What were you thinking about doing to it? Tearing it down to the frame?"

  Nick released Lenore's hand and turned to admire the house. "I would like to keep as much of the original structure as possible, but I suppose you're better at deciding that than I am. I'm just a dabbler in science, not carpentry."

  "Is that what you do for a living?" Lenore asked him.

  Nick enigmatically smiled and gestured to the house. "If you would both come inside and give me an appraisal of its condition, I would be most grateful."

  Chapter 3

  This was more up Stan's alley, and he strode in with the confidence to assess whether it was salvageable or in need of complete destruction. Lenore followed behind him, and Nick brought up the rear. The inside of the house was even more dark and gloomy than the outside. Shadows ruled the corners of every room and a constant haze of dust hung in the air. The walls were covered with peeling wallpaper and every wooden board beneath their feet was scuffed, scratched and creaked.

  The front of the house was a small entrance hall with a staircase in front of them and a hall leading to the rear of the house beside that. On the corridor wall beneath staircase was a closed door that led to the basement. On either side of them was an entrance arch that led to a parlor and dining hall. The ceilings were ten feet tall, and above their heads swayed an elegant, golden chandelier covered in decades of dust and cobwebs.

  "You'll have to excuse the dust. I haven't had time to clean up this part of the house," Nick told them.

  Lenore peeked her head around the left archway and saw it was a filthy dining room. "What have you cleaned up?" she asked him.

  "Just the upstairs to sleep and the basement to store my furniture," he replied. He noticed Stan pause in his inspection of a wall and Lenore shudder. "Did I say something wrong?"

  "It's not your fault, Nick," Stan spoke up. "We just have some history with the house. We snuck in here when we were kids and it-well, it scared the shit out of us."

  Nick smil
ed. "I can't blame you. The shadows in this place worry even me sometimes."

  Stan shook his head. "It's not only that. We snuck down into the basement through one of the windows and couldn't get out. We were stuck here overnight, and who knows how much longer if a neighbor walking their dog hadn't heard our screams."

  Nick's humor fled and he glanced between them.. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to make light of something that awful."

  "It's fine. You're going to heal a lot of wounds by fixing this place up," Stan told him.

  "That depends on your assessment," Nick countered. He gestured upward to the ceiling. "Can this place be saved, or will I make my fortune selling it as firewood?"

  Stan stepped back from the wall and frowned as his eyes flitted over the wood. "It isn't good, but I'll have to see the rest of the house before I can make an assessment. As much as I regret saying this, I think we should start with the basement."

  Lenore shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I think I'll sit this tour out," she spoke up.

  Nick gently took hold of one of her arms. "I'm sure you will find nothing frightening down there unless you think my taste in furniture is terrible," Nick teased as he guided her to the basement door.

  She dug her heels into the floor boards just short of the basement door. "We'll just assume I'm terrified of your furniture and leave me up here while you two go down," she insisted.

  "What if your kind and brave brother was to go down ahead of you?" he suggested. He looked past Lenore and at Stan who stood by the foot of the stairs. "Will you brave my furniture and show your sister there's nothing to fear from my house?"

  Stan shrugged. "I don't really have a choice. I'm sure I have to tear out everything down there." He strode past the two, opened the door, and glanced down the long flight of small, narrow steps. They went for fifteen steps down before a small landing, and then the stairs turned ninety degrees and went down another fifteen steps to complete its journey to the basement floor.

  Lenore smirked. "The furniture scaring you?" she teased.

  He turned back and glared at her. "Give me a moment. I need to see if these stairs are safe."

  "They are. I've gone down them myself dozens of times," Nick told him.

  Stan took a deep breath and walked down the stairs. Nick followed with Lenore behind him. She paused at the top of the stairs, and he stopped and turned to face her. "If there's any monsters down here it'll go for the juicier men," he pointed out.

  "Or the weak woman," she argued.

  He held his hand out to her and smiled. "Trust me. I'll keep you safe."

  Lenore smiled and took his hand. He led her down the narrow steps and into the basement. She winced as each stair squeaked under her weight. The last time she'd been in the sub floor it had a dirt floor and was empty, but some enterprising owner had poured cement to have a dry ground. The space was also packed with white-sheet covered furniture and boxes. There were two long, narrow windows on the wall opposite the right side of the stairs. They stood six feet off the ground and showed how the siblings in their youth hadn't been able to escape so easily. The only source of light was a single bulb in the center of the room. It cast eerie shadows on the walls as the three of them grouped at the bottom of the stairs and surveyed the room.

  Stan pulled out his flashlight and walked along the walls. "Looks like the foundation's solid, but it's really old. I'm not sure if you want to trust it."

  "Do I have a choice?" Nick wondered.

  "Not if you want to keep the house as-is," Stan told him.

  "Well, at least the floor is solid," Nick replied as he tapped a toe on the cement.

  "Maybe, but they didn't put in a drain for the water if the basement floods," he pointed out.

  "So even that has to be ripped up?" Nick asked him.

  Stan shrugged. "I can't tell without ripping it up, but we'll see what I find where the bottom of the walls meets the cement."

  Lenore took a few steps forward and lifted one of the sheets. There were boxes with the words 'Glass Beakers' and 'Vials' written on their sides, and stamped with the word 'Fragile.' Nick came up behind her and looked at what caught her curiosity.

  "Ah-ha, I see you've found my great secret," he commented.

  "Great secret?" she returned.

  "Yes, my occupation. I'm a scientist by trade and half of these boxes are filled with my testing equipment. I plan on making the basement my laboratory," Nick told her.

  Stan grinned. "Got any mice? Lenore loves mice."

  She whipped her head to him and glared at her brother. "You know I don't!" she scolded him. She felt a chill settle in her bones and shuddered.

  "Cold?" Nick asked her.

  "I guess I didn't dress very well for the occasion," she replied.

  "Then let's go back upstairs. That is, provided your brother is done with his inspection," Nick wondered.

  Stan shut off his flashlight and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm done."

  The three of them walked back upstairs and stopped in the hall. Nick gingerly leaned his back against the wall opposite the stairs and looked to Stan. "So what's your professional opinion of this fine example of rust and rot?" he wondered.

  Stan shrugged. "This house will probably throw me for more curve balls than a lineup of professional pitchers."

  "So the final verdict of my home is a strikeout?" Nick joked.

  Stan pursed his lips. "Well, it can be salvaged, but it's going to be pretty expensive. It'd be cheaper to rip everything down to the frame."

  Nick smiled. "I have cash to spend, and not much to spend it on, so when can you get to work?"

  "Tomorrow, if you want. I'll have to tear half the boards out because of termite damage and buy some new ones."

  "Whatever you need just give me a rough estimate of the costs and I'll pay the bills," Nick assured him.

  "Sounds like a deal, so I'll see you tomorrow," Stan replied. The two men shook hands and Nick turned to Lenore.

  "I hope I'll be seeing you around," he hoped.

  She smiled and shrugged. "You can find me behind a cash register most nights," she told him.

  He raised his eyebrows. "So you work the night shift?"

  Lenore smiled. "Well, almost. I'm the closing manager of the store," she told him.

  "Then I'll have to make sure not to do so much of my shopping all at once," Nick commented. He took her hand in his and planted a soft kiss on her palm. "Until we meet over the checkout counter."

  Lenore blushed. "S-sure thing," she stammered.

  Stan smirked and led her out the house and down the lane. He didn't say a word, but she knew from his sparkling eyes that he had a couple of zingers in that evil mind of his. They slid into his truck and had driven down the road a block when she crossed her arms and glared at him. "All right, spit it out," she ordered him.

  He feigned surprise. "Spit what out?" he asked her.

  "Whatever you want to say just say it," she growled.

  Stan shrugged, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "I was just wondering if you guys had a wedding date picked out," he teased her.

  She rolled her eyes. "We don't even have a date date set," she countered.

  "You're not going to let this one get away, are you?" he wondered.

  She slumped down in the seat. "What would a rich, handsome guy like that see in a girl like me?" she pointed out.

  Now Stan rolled his eyes. "Come on, Len. This is your first chance in how many years for a boyfriend? Five?"

  She shrugged. "Six, but how's counting?"

  He snorted. "You are, and that's why I think you shouldn't brush this guy off. He's a little weird, but that means you'll get along just fine."

  "I am not a little weird," she protested.

  "You're right, you're really weird," he returned.

  She picked up an empty pop bottle and chucked it at him. Stan ducked and the can flew out the window and clattered to the street. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "First argui
ng with your big brother, and now littering? What's next? Drug smuggling?"

  "Not so long as chocolate's legal," she replied.

  "Well, teasing aside, I think he has something for you and you shouldn't brush him off. Besides, he seemed like a nice guy," Stan persisted.

  Lenore smiled. "So he has the Brother Seal of Approval?"

  "And earned five gold stars, so he's allowed one date just to see if he's the right guy," Stan agreed.

  She sighed, set her elbow on the door, and rested her chin in her hand. "We'll see if we even get that far."

  Chapter 4

  Stan dropped Lenore off at her house and a few uneventful hours later she went to work for another closing. She parked her car and waited while Becky drove up and parked beside her. The pair walked toward the store together, and Lenore had a hunch Becky had something she wanted to say. Maybe it was the twinkle in her eyes or the way her lips were set in a perpetual smile. They strode through the store and into the back room and to the small office. The back room was where they kept the stock stacked on pallets waiting to be taken out and shelved. The office was stuck in one of the far corners of the back room. It was a square space partitioned from the rest of the tall, large stock room by four wooden walls, a door, and a long window that looked out on the piles of stock. There was an exit at the rear that led to the truck parking, but it wasn't big enough for the employees to park their cars to the door was rarely used.

  "You might want to tell me what's on your mind before we punch in," Lenore commented.

  Becky's eyes widened and she whipped her head to her superior. "How'd you know?"

  "You've got a terrible pokerface, so 'fess up," Lenore replied.

  "Well, I kind of-sort of heard something about you and your brother," Becky admitted.

  Lenore raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me it's not about incest," she pleaded.

  Becky snorted and shook her head. "No, I just heard that you two went to the Morley place and saw that cute guy."

  "Nick," Lenore reminded her.

  Becky smirked and wagged her eyebrows. "So you're on a first-name basis with him?" she teased.

  Lenore quickly clocked in. "Oh, would you look at that. Looks like I need to get to work, and so do you." She hurried away, leaving Becky pouting and disappointed.

  The pair worked through the evening shift and the numbers of coworkers and customers dwindled from a torrential downpour to a trickle, and finally to a sort-of-leaky-faucet. By a quarter to ten they were the only ones left in the store. Lenore noticed Becky didn't amuse herself with facing the shelves, but instead watched the doors.