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He glances at me over his shoulder. “No.”

Thank goodness. For a moment, I was worried I’d somehow bought a house that came with a legal tenant.

“Then you have to leave,” I repeat.

He turns back to the motorcycle. “Already told you. Not happening.”

I clench my teeth. This man is impossible! “Well, you can’t just stay here forever.”

“Been here for years.”

“Fine.” I turn around. “I’m going inside to figure out who I need to call to get you out of my house.”

“Have fun.”

“Ugh!”

I stamp my feet loudly while marching back to the kitchen. I drop the knife onto the counter, only for it to slide off the edge and narrowly miss my foot.

Okay, I need to get a grip. I need to calm down.

Then I’ll do whatever it takes to get this minotaur out of my house.

Chapter Three

Otis

I overtighten the bolt and curse when the wrench slips from my hand. Fuck. This day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

First, someone nearly kills me because she can’t be bothered to slow down on a curved road. Then the same woman shows up at my house, waving a knife around and informing me that this is her house.

I grab the wrench from the floor and get back to work. The damage to my bike isn’t too bad. I should be able to handle most of the repairs myself, although the scratches along the side will take more work.

I can’t concentrate on them right now, though. I keep stealing glances at the cottage and get annoyed with myself. I shouldn’t care that Romy’s inside right now.

The only reason I know her name is because it’s printed on the business card she shoved into my hands after hitting me. I should’ve thrown it away. I’m perfectly capable of fixing my bike without her help.

So why didn’t I? Probably because she’s fucking gorgeous. And adorable. The way she stood at the side of the road, asking me if I knew what day it was. She looked terrified of me, but still wanted to make sure I was okay.

Hell, and just now, she showed up in my shed with a knife. Romy’s a feisty one, that’s for sure.

I shake my head with a sigh and turn my attention back to my motorcycle. None of that even matters. What matters is that she bought the cottage, and if she’s telling the truth, I don’t have a damn leg to stand on.

I’ve always known it could happen. The place had been empty for years when I found it. Nobody cared about the overgrown garden or the leaking roof. Nobody came around asking questions when I fixed the worst of the damage and started sleeping here. After a while, I stopped thinking about who owned the cottage on paper, and it became mine.

Not legally of course. I’m not an idiot. But it’s the first place that felt like home after I changed and after my ex-girlfriend threw me out. Guess that’s what happens when you grow horns and fur overnight.

I look down at my hands. The dark grease almost hides the skin that hasn’t looked like mine in years. Dr. Karloff’s fucking punch took care of that.

That night changed everything. Not just my body or the horns that make it impossible to walk through a regular doorway. My whole life went to hell, and I never asked for any of it.

Something crashes inside the cottage. A second later, Romy curses loudly enough that I can hear her from the shed. Then, another thud follows. What the hell is she doing in there?

I toss the wrench onto the workbench and wipe my hands on a rag. Now I have to head inside to make sure she isn’t destroying the place. Fixing my bike will have to wait.

I head into the kitchen and stare at the mess on the floor. “What the hell did you do?”

“Me? Your shelf fell off the wall,” Romy says.