“Honey, why did you choose such a gloomy house?” my mother would ask, looking up at it.

“It’s fine,” my father would say. “The paint is the problem. You need a new coat of paint, Jessie. Maybe an off-white. You should’ve stained it, but that ship has sailed.”

“Paint wouldn’t do it, Pete. It’s just so…dark…” my mom would reply.

That would start them arguing about the best way to fix what wasn’t actually broken. As if they didn’t live in a house of horrors filled with dozens of unfinished projects, including a partial coat of turd-brown paint near the stairs.

“They do write letters instead of calling, yes,” I said, belatedly remembering that Austin had asked a question. “But only when they want to make it impossible for me to turn them down. My mom typically times it so the letter arrives the day before they do. If I try to cancel, she gives me a guilt trip about how she’s already planned her whole life around this thing, and if I couldn’t do it, why did I wait until the last minute to let her know? The whole situation used to drive Matt nuts. Matt’s the ex.”

He nodded, clearly remembering the name. “Not you?”

“Obviously it drives me nuts, yeah. But, I mean…they’re my parents. What am I supposed to do? When I need something, I can always count on them.”

“Do Matt’s parents not have any idiosyncrasies?”

“They do, but he didn’t seem too put out by them. I was, absolutely, but not him. They’re these really WASP-y socialites, so they had parties and dinners and things where I’d have to bring homemade dishes that were up to their standards, dress a certain way, and when it was our turn to host?” I shivered just thinking about it. “There were a lot of rules. Keeping up with the Joneses type of stuff. It got exhausting.”

“Your parents aren’t like that?”

I snorted. “Matt’s parents could barely tolerate my family. My mom would show up to one of their fancy cocktail parties wearing some sort of Mary Poppins carpet dress. You know, like the material Mary Poppins’s bag was made out of? That, but fashioned into a dress. My dad would wear jeans, cowboy boots, and one of those cowboy blazers with patches on the elbows. This in a room full of fancy cocktail dresses and high-powered Armani suits. They did not fit in.”

Austin chuckled as we reached the end of the street. “Your parents will fit in around here, at least.”

A wave of anxiety washed over me, the familiar urge to run home and clean everything almost overwhelming. I needed to get the beer they liked, the snacks they had to have—

“A TV!” I grabbed Austin’s arm and stopped at the corner. Confusion stole over his expression. “I need a TV! And cable! My father cannot live without his TV.”

A grin pulled at his lush lips, enhancing his attractiveness. My stomach flipped. The guy was a looker, there were no two ways about it. It got distracting at times.

“I have a TV you can use,” he said. “I’ll bring it by later.”

I started walking again. “I can just have Mr. Tom go out and buy one. He’ll bitch, but…”

“This way…” He pointed right, to a street before the main drag.

“Why are they visiting?” I mumbled. “I mean, I know why they are visiting—they have to get out of the house and they have no choice, but why me? Why not Chris?”

“Who’s Chris?” Austin asked.

“My brother.” I bit my lip. “They probably didn’t want to fly. Dang it, I should’ve chosen another house, much farther away.”

“Are they a nightmare, or…”

An older man and woman I’d seen around town walked toward us on the sidewalk, out for a stroll. Austin’s arm came around me and his hand touched down on the indent of my waist, right above the swell of my hip. His heat soaked through my shirt and into my skin. A zip of electricity coursed through my body, followed by a rush of adrenaline. I shivered as he applied pressure, directing me in front of him on the sidewalk to let the others pass.

The man and woman both nodded in hello. “Alpha,” they said, one after the other. “Jessie.” Their smiles were so wide that their eyes crinkled.

“I don’t remember meeting them,” I whispered as Austin’s hand drifted away, taking the heat with it. I shivered again at the sudden chill in its wake.

“Everyone around here knows who you are. The magical people, anyway. Magical people keep their eyes on dangerous things.”

My face heated and I wanted to come up with an offhanded remark to deflect being called dangerous, but the news about my parents had put me off my game.

“Have you had to fight anyone to retain your alpha title?” I asked as a distraction, coming up on a dentist’s office.

“No one I wouldn’t have had to subdue anyway. Outsiders with too much liquor trying to stir up trouble.”

“Well, yeah, that’s pretty standard fare for a bar.”

“Not my bar.” He motioned for me to cross the street, then directed me through a little alley between two businesses run out of converted houses. No dumpsters loitered along the way, and there was no trash blowing across the ground like urban tumbleweeds. This town, small and cute and clean, was nothing like the haunts I’d gotten used to in L.A. The change of pace was nice. I hoped my parents wouldn’t bitch that it was boring. You just never knew with them.

Halfway through the alley, the space opened up, showing the rear of a business situated on the main drag. I spied Jasper at the street corner. Gargoyles could blend into their environment, especially if the surfaces contained stone or rock, rendering themselves invisible, but I’d learned how to magically strip away their camouflage. So I could see Jasper’s deep gray gargoyle form, threaded through with tan and brown. He was one of three gargoyles who lived in Ivy House—a strong and silent type who’d proven excellent at guarding my back while keeping just enough distance to allow me my privacy.

It was more than I could say for the small collection of gargoyles who’d become long-term guests at a hotel in town. Around a dozen of them had answered my magical summons, but I’d already gotten rid of the guys obviously not cut out for the role, and one guy had left of his own accord. He couldn’t handle Niamh picking on him for his lack of hygiene. The remaining six were still auditioning for permanent roles in Ivy House.

Jasper nodded at me in greeting, glanced at Austin, and then turned back to the street. He would guard our front, trusting Austin to guard the rear.

“Jasper found us,” I told Austin, slowing with him.

“I know. I smelled him.” Austin led the way into what was essentially a small business’s backyard. He checked out the dumpster positioned against the fence on the far side, separating this space with the business next door. A pile of empty wine boxes, and a wine barrel standing on end, sat near a set of three steps leading to a back door. Obviously this was the back of a tasting room, this area of the world being big on wine.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, clasping my hands behind my back and watching his movements, my gaze only occasionally snagging on the play of muscle across his back and his tight, well-shaped butt. I was getting better at not staring.

“The actual winemaking for this winery happens at their country estate, about half an hour away. They grow most of the grapes they use.”

“All of the wineries in town make the actual wines elsewhere.” I tilted my head to read the name on the side of one of the boxes, very familiar with the wineries in town. I grimaced. This one wasn’t great.

“There isn’t much room back here for a gathering of any kind.”

I frowned at the small space, the gravel crunching under my feet and a dark stain near the dumpster making my nose curl. “It isn’t a place I’d like to hang out even if there was space.”

“What if it were spruced up a little?” He stopped in the center and put out his hands, then squinted up at the sky, getting a full dose of sun on his face. “A few people could hang out back here.”

“Next to the dumpster? Are you planning a party or something? Why not just have it in your bar?”

He lowered his face and hands, gave the space another look, and then motioned me toward the front, the busiest strip of businesses in the town. A woman in her twenties caught sight of me emerging from around the corner. When she noticed Austin behind me, her face turned red and delighted surprise flashed in her eyes.

“Hi, alpha,” she gushed.

“Alpha.” A man behind the woman nodded before stepping into the street around her, avoiding the temporary traffic jam.

“Alpha,” someone said across the street, putting up his hand to wave.

Austin ignored them all, staring straight ahead and resting a hand on the small of my back. “Just here, Jess.”

He directed me up the stairs before reaching around me to grab the door handle.

“It always weirds me out when you don’t acknowledge the people saying hi to you,” I murmured, entering the tasting room. “Are we day drinking? Because with the news that my parents are coming, I could definitely get behind that. I’d prefer a different winery, though.”

“They’re acknowledging me to show respect for my position, and if I reciprocated, I’d do nothing but greet people whenever I went into town.”

“What do Janes and Dicks think of people calling you alpha?”

“I don’t care. What do you think of this setup?” He gestured around the spacious tasting room, sparse in furniture and plentiful in dead space.

I huffed out a laugh at his response before glancing around. I’d been here before, but I hadn’t paid much attention.

“What are they expecting, huge crowds to pack in here?” I whispered, knowing someone would pop out to wait on us at any moment.

He didn’t control his volume. “In the busy season, there are enough tourists to fill the place, but I’ve heard it doesn’t typically happen.” He didn’t move toward the counter.