Elvis Gets His Groove Back (Moonchuckle Bay Romantic Comedy #5 Read online

  She practically rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. This was every woman’s dream, right? Elvis cooking breakfast for them in the kitchen? If it wasn’t, there was something wrong with them. Even from here, she could feel the peace rolling off him. She wondered if he’d always had that feeling of calm about him, or if that was something he’d gained after he’d been turned.

  Sitting on the back of a dining room chair, Lorito saw her and called out, “Hello, beautiful.”

  At the greeting, Elvis turned and looked up at her with that lock of hair falling over his eyes and her heart actually pinged a little. He shot her that famous crooked grin and said, “Morning, ma’am.”

  “Morning, sir. Breakfast smells amazing.”

  “Bacon, eggs, and pancakes with Mickey Mouse ears.”

  Mickey Mouse pancakes? She couldn’t help but smile as she took the rest of the stairs down from the landing. She came through the dining room and scratched the back of her bird’s head, where he loved to be touched. He ruffled his neck feathers out in appreciation. “How are you this morning, Lorito?”

  “I hope you don’t mind me letting him out of his cage.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” But again she wondered why that cage bothered him so much.

  “Have a seat, pretty lady, and I’ll serve you. It’s all ready.”

  The table was set with plates, and he set down platters of food, then went back for a smaller plate, which he set on the seat of the chair Lorito was on. The bird made his way down. “What did you just give him?”

  “Some more berries, some of the seeds you had in the cage, and a piece of pancake.”

  “Pancake, huh?”

  “Best ever. My mama’s recipe. Wait ’til you taste them.”

  He offered up a blessing over the food, and she was surprised — but then maybe she wasn’t. He’d been raised religious, and apparently he’d gone back to some of his childhood roots.

  “Amen,” she said, and he handed her the platter of bacon. She loaded some on her plate, followed by eggs, and the cute pancakes.

  She wondered how many women had come down those steps and been served breakfast by the King.

  Even worse, she wondered how many had followed him out of his bedroom.

  Jealousy hit her hard. And that was just plain stupid. She’d only known him for a day, and she was only staying here temporarily.

  But she didn’t want to leave, not until she’d found a way to maintain that feeling of calm by herself, even when he wasn’t around. She could get addicted to that even more than the view.

  All morning, Charlie picked up conflicting vibes from Elvis.

  She seemed to amuse him, and he smiled and teased with her, but then he’d withdraw. Not knowing for sure where she stood with him made her feel awkward.

  While she’d loaded the dishwasher — she’d insisted — he asked if she’d mind if he played his guitar in the loft. “Absolutely not! I’d love it.”

  So she’d listened to the guitar strumming. Occasionally Lorito would bounce along to the music, and Charlie found herself humming along softly.

  “No, for the thousandth time, I will not sing with you,” she heard Elvis say, and she stopped to listen.

  And then she heard it — a woman’s voice singing Jailhouse Rock — totally off-key. Yikes.

  “Go outside, Evelyn. You know the rules.”

  Curious, she followed the sound of the singing as the ghostly crooner descended the stairs and went out on the veranda. She couldn’t actually see the ghost, but she could hear her horrible, couldn’t-carry-a-tune-in-a-bucket rendition.

  Weird. That was just plain weird. And as off-key as Evelyn was, Charlie really wished she was blessed with the gift of seeing the ghost instead of just hearing her.

  When Elvis came downstairs fifteen minutes later, Charlie shuddered. “So, I heard her, but I didn’t see her.”

  “Then you know what I’ve put up with.”

  “Move. Seriously,” she told him. “That’s a pain no singer should have to endure.”

  He grinned. “And now you’re blessed with her vocals, too. Welcome to Moonchuckle Bay!”

  At eleven thirty, they piled into his Cadillac and he drove back to the alpha’s home.

  “I’m still stuffed with bacon.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t tell the Winstons or their cook, Rose. Just do your best.”

  She watched as, more quickly than she’d have thought possible, they were out of the woods and back in town, driving up to the Winston home.

  Last night the house had looked big, but in the daylight it was impressive. “It looks like the Winstons have money.”

  “Some,” Elvis said.

  “It’s no Graceland, of course, but it’s not bad.”

  He turned to her and laughed. “I don’t talk about Graceland, actually. Or any of that old stuff. And not my family. Especially not my family.”

  “I went to Graceland once,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Well, I did. I bought a Graceland water globe. I still have it somewhere.”

  Actually, it was in a storage unit back in Vegas. She’d rented a tiny apartment for the month she was staying there.

  “So when I say I don’t talk about Graceland, what do you hear, exactly?”

  She smiled sweetly at him. “It’s a beautiful place, but I’ll try to refrain from mentioning it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Today, it was Mrs. Winston — Nancy — who answered the door.

  Elegance practically oozed from the woman’s pores. Everything was gray — her eyes, her slacks, her blouse — except her hair. Looking to be in her late-forties or early-fifties, Nancy Winston was a knockout.

  Even at lunchtime, she had her hair pulled back in an elaborate chignon, and wore classic diamond teardrop earrings and a pantsuit.

  Charlie felt underdressed in her slacks and short-sleeved blouse.

  With a wide smile, Nancy stepped back and said, “It’s great to see you both! Please come in.”

  As they walked from the large entry hall, past the living room toward the back, Gene came out of his den and greeted them. He put one arm around Charlie’s shoulders and the other around Elvis’s. “Glad you could come back.”

  He released them as they entered the dining room. A younger couple, chatting with Mrs. Winston, turned to her.

  Gene introduced them to the young man who looked just like him and his wife and child. “My son and the sheriff of Moonchuckle Bay, Samuel Winston, his lovely wife, Amber, and their newly adopted son, Caleb.”

  The little boy stepped forward and put out his hand, saying carefully, “Hi, I’m Caleb. How are you?”

  How adorable. Charlie shook his hand. “I’m very well, thank you. I’m Charlie.”

  Next he put up a hand and exchanged a high-five with Elvis.

  Amber came forward and pulled Charlie into a hug, whispering in her ear, “Finally, another woman at family meals. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She said it in a half-teasing voice. Charlie liked the werewolf immediately. “It’s good to meet you.”

  Amber said, “Would you like to go play around in town with me for a girls’ day? I can probably convince Dixie to come with us, too. We could have lunch and shop and I can show you around.”

  “I’d love that,” Charlie said, and found she meant it.

  “I’ll call her and see when she can go with us. You’ll love her.”

  They sat around the formal table, with Gene and Nancy at either end. Amber and Charlie flanked Gene, while Samuel and Elvis sat on either side of Nancy.

  A woman introduced as Rose — “the best cook in the county” — carried out the courses of a delicious meal.

  Charlie found this casual affair to be more formal than most, but she’d attended her share of formal dinners before. She could handle it — as well as the cool Nancy Winston.

  Gene asked Charlie, “Are you settling into town all right? Is Elvis treating yo
u well?”

  “He fixed me breakfast this morning and did a delicious job of it.”

  Gene chuckled. “Good to hear he’s gotten better at cooking. You wouldn’t still be alive if you’d eaten some of his early attempts.”

  “Hey!” Elvis protested.

  After they stopped laughing, Charlie told Gene, “I am hoping you can help me find a job in town, though. I’m going to need some spending money until I can get some of my money pulled out of longer-term investments.”

  “I suppose singing’s out,” Gene said.

  “You’re a singer?” asked Amber. “That’s cool.”

  Mrs. Winston’s ears perked up when she heard that. “Maybe you could give voice lessons to Elvis. Not that I didn’t adore your singing, Elvis, but it’s been a lot of years since you’ve sung. Charlie could get your voice warmed back up.”

  “Actually,” Charlie said with a rueful smile, “I’m a retired singer.”

  “Retired? You’re both retired?” Mrs. Winston looked at Charlie and then Elvis, shaking her head. “I hope you both change your minds. You’re depriving the world of some beautiful music.”

  Charlie exchanged a look with Elvis, and they had a moment of silent solidarity. A slow smile spread over his face and she answered it with one of her own.

  What was happening here, exactly?

  Elvis was amused by the idea of taking voice lessons from Charlie, and apparently, so was she.

  Gene cleared his throat and steered the conversation back into safe waters. “Sure, Charlie. I can help you find a job. I’ll delegate the task.” Then he looked straight at Elvis. “Mr. Smith will help you.”

  “I have a job already that I need to do some work on.”

  “You need to spend more time in town, be around people.”

  That was the last thing Elvis wanted. He had his own online sales company that kept him in money, at least enough to live on with some to invest left over.

  “You will help her, right?” Gene asked quietly.

  Samuel chuckled. “Give it up, Elvis. He’ll just keep at you until you say yes. An alpha is kind of like a spoiled child. They always get their way.”

  His father chuffed in annoyance. “An alpha is nothing like a spoiled child. You’re a spoiled child.”

  Mrs. Winston said, “Now, now, boys.”

  Elvis’s mind raced. He was going to have to agree, because Samuel was right. Gene would keep at him until he said yes. And he would have to say yes because Gene was apparently going to insist on everything related to Charlie. For some reason, he’d decided Elvis needed to make some changes and he needed to make them right now.

  Right. Now.

  Elvis gave a grin. “It’s all right, Mrs. Winston. I’d be glad to help Charlie find a job in town.”

  “And to take a job with her,” Gene said.

  Was Gene matchmaking, or something else? It was difficult to keep the smile plastered on his face, but Elvis managed it. “We’ll go to the temp agency tomorrow.”

  “Today.” Gene’s gaze was steely.

  “Right after lunch,” Elvis agreed. He’d try to look on the bright side. The quicker she got a job, the quicker she could be out of his house.

  “Good. Then I can give you a head’s-up, as well.” Gene took a sip of water, then went on. “I’ve sensed a strange werewolf in town, and I’m not the only one who has scented her.”

  “Do you expect trouble?” Mrs. Winston asked.

  “I hope not, dear. Just something we want to keep an eye out for. So if any of you see a strange wolf in town, or scent one, let me know immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” said both Elvis and Samuel.

  Fool’s Gold Loaf

  ELVIS SEEMED DISTRACTED AS HE drove from Gene’s house to the center of Moonchuckle Bay, past Mane Street, and down a few more blocks.

  Charlie wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t ask.

  He pulled his Cadillac into the parking lot of the temp agency, and told Charlie, “Stay put.”

  And she did as he came around and opened the door for her.

  She climbed out. “Your mama raised you right.”

  “Yes, she did,” he said, “though I disappointed her, I’m sure.”

  A human woman squealed “Elvis!” and raced toward them. “Oh, will you let me have my picture taken with you? My sisters will die.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Sure, darlin’.”

  The woman handed her cell phone to Charlie, who held it up as Elvis put his arm around the shoulders of the woman, who was nearly swooning. Charlie clicked off several photos and handed the phone back to her.

  The woman looked through them. “Thank you so much. You’re the best Elvis impersonator I’ve ever seen. And I like you even better with the beard.”

  “Thank you,” Elvis said. “Thank you very much.”

  Charlie tried not to laugh at his words. As soon as the woman was gone, Elvis motioned to Charlie. “Quick, before anyone else sees me.”

  “Even after all these years, huh?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  A young woman sat behind a counter. “Welcome to Monster Temps, where we match you with the perfect job.” She smiled. “We’re at MonsterTemp.com, and we’re affiliated with Monster.com, which is a huge resource for us.”

  Of course they were. Charlie said, “Thanks. We’re here to apply for jobs.”

  “Both of you?”

  Elvis shook his head. “Let’s concentrate on the lovely lady first.”

  “All right. Come on in and wait a moment and I’ll have Elvira help you.”

  As the woman left the desk and went into the back, Charlie asked Elvis, “The Elvira?”

  “No.” He shook his head and chuckled. “A vampire Elvira impersonator, though.”

  A moment later, a tall woman came out and introduced herself as Elvira. No last name. Just Elvira. She was dressed as the real deal — with the big dark hair, black dress slit high to reveal thighs in black tights, and her breasts on full display.

  Again, Charlie suppressed a laugh.

  Elvira shook their hands and invited them back into her office, motioning toward two chairs situated in front of her desk. “Do you have any particular skill sets for me to consider?”

  She looked at Charlie, who sighed. “Not any that I can do for a temp job.”

  The vampire — or would that be vamp? — gave her a strange look, and Charlie rushed to explain. “I used to sing, but I can’t do that anymore.”

  “All right. How about typing or office work?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I can get around on my laptop all right.”

  The vampire typed on her keyboard, faster than it looked like she should be able to with her long, black-painted fingernails. “So we’re looking for unskilled labor jobs until we can get you some experience.”

  “I suppose.”

  A moment later, Elvira said, “Okay. We have a job that will be perfect for you. It’s a three-day job with the possibility of turning into a long-term gig.”

  “What is it?” Charlie asked. What would be considered unskilled labor jobs? Ditch digging? Fry cooking? Pole dancing?

  “The local theater needs two concession stand workers. They had two people come down with the flu at the same time. The first shift is this afternoon.”

  Concession stand? Charlie should be able to handle that without hurting anyone. “Okay.”

  “Great. You’re a godsend.” Elvira looked at Elvis. “And they need two people, so we can take care of both of you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

  Charlie stared at Elvis. “I thought we were both job hunting today.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I helped you find a job. Isn’t that good enough?”

  She could let it go, except she owed Gene for helping her — and Gene had specifically instructed Elvis to also get a job. She smiled sweetly. “Do I need to call Gene?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “There’s no nee
d to be that way.”

  She didn’t say anything, just waited.

  And, in a moment, he caved. “Fine. I’ll work there, too.”

  “Good,” the vampire said. “I have a few papers for you to sign for us. This is a three-day job, and we will keep looking for something more long-term in the meantime. For both of you.”

  Elvis was not smiling.

  She touched his arm. “Come on. It will be fun.”

  “I worked in a theater a lot of years ago. It was definitely not fun.”

  “But this time you’ll be working with me.”

  He actually chuckled, but acted like it hurt him to do so. “That will make all the difference.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Wow, you guys are good. It’s obvious you’re supposed to be Elvis,” a tourist said, pointing at Elvis, and then motioning toward Charlie, “but who are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m a werewolf,” she lied easily.

  Elvis would’ve known if she was a werewolf. Whatever she was, she was not a shifter.

  “Good thing it’s not the full moon,” the man said, shaking his hands in front of him in mock fear.

  The woman with him laughed and pushed on his arm. “You’re so funny.” She obviously had low standards for humor.

  With a smile, Charlie set a large bucket of popcorn and two large drinks on the counter. “Enjoy your movie.”

  They’d been working for three hours, and these were the last two people in line at the concession stand. It wouldn’t last long, though, before people would trickle back out for refills or more candy, and others would come in for the late movie. The other three workers started straightening up, one using a sweeper on the carpet in the lobby.

  Charlie smiled at Elvis, and his heart gave a ridiculous — and unwanted — leap in his chest. She said, “It’s been a long time since I worked at anything besides singing.”

  “I’ve come full circle, you know,” he admitted.

  “What do you mean?” She looked intrigued.

  “I worked as an usher, years ago. I led people to their seats in the Loew’s State Theater on Main Street in Memphis.”