Rowena Flores has problems...and we're not just talking about her anger management issues. After cursing her cheating ex-boyfriend, this home goods cashier's life is turned upside down when a pack of werewolf shifters accuse her of being a murdering...
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No one should get shot in the shoulder while attending a family barbecue. After giving her statement to Donnie, Lorena's ex-husband, Rowena stared at a water stain on the hospital's ceiling. Cross was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand like a real boyfriend would.
"Are you trying to Stockholm me?" Rowena asked, her eyes still on the water stain.
"Stockholm?"
Her eyes flickered to their clutched hands. "You know, you kidnap me and then try to make me fall in love with you. It's like some sort of brainwashing thing creepy kidnappers like you do."
"Maybe."
Five letters strung together to form a single word and it had the power to rock her world. She didn't want her world rocked. Did she? She shook her head slightly.
"I lied. You're not creepy. Not really," Rowena admitted. She could feel her eyes watering.
"Okay."
"You know, they didn't even ask me about my black eyes."
"What?"
She felt the whisper of his touch against her cheek. "My family. None of them asked me why I had two black eyes. I look like I went one on one with Rocky Balboa and lost but no one cared. I was all ready to explain about the truck getting shot at and the airbag exploding in my face. No one even asked—not even my Abuela. She just wanted to look at our palms. My parents and aunts cared more about you and your presence than the state of my face. Why don't they care?" Her voice cracked in emotion.
Cross grabbed her hand again.
"All my life I've felt like an outsider. Like I was unwanted because I was an oops baby and then because I didn't have a gift like the rest of them. It didn't even have to be something major. It could've been something stupid like Carmen's hunches that help her win a few hundred bucks on lottery tickets. Is it too much to ask my family to care about me?"
"No."
"It must be, Cross. Because if they cared, they would've been aghast at my black eyes. Yes, I just used the word aghast. The moment warrants it. Anyway, they should've asked how it happened and if I was okay...but they didn't and that sucks. I'm sorry for complaining. It just makes me sad."
He squeezed her hand.
"Maybe they're right and I do feel sorry for myself too much. I'm just...tired. Tired of feeling this way."
"Baby," he whispered.
She felt that flutter in her stomach again and her brown eyes gazed at him.
"Why do you call me that? I've never had a boyfriend call me baby before. I've been called darling, honey, and once I went on a date with a guy who called me squirt. That was weird and made me uncomfortable. He didn't get a second date."
