Not that there was a proper entryway to said bazaar. I’ll get to that in a minute.

He parked the bike on the water side of the street and popped the keys into the front pocket of his jeans as he stepped off the bike.

I sat there looking around as casually as I could, then slowly slid off. My knees hurt from being cramped up even for that short ride and I fought to keep them from dropping me onto the cobblestones.

“You okay?” Sarge held out a hand as I stood there with my knees fighting me. Finally, the blood flow got going and I reached out and took his offered hand.

“Yup, fine. But you can hold my hand if you want.”

He blinked down at my fingers that he was currently holding. I thought he’d fling my hand away—Himself had done that more than once—and I was secretly pleased when he lifted my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Southern charm is not dead after all,” I said.

Sarge flashed me a grin. “No, it just takes a wolf to remember how old he is and that ladies like to be treated as such.”

Wait, what? How old was he? He looked younger than me.

“What?”

He leaned close. “Do half-men age like the rest of the world? I think you know the answer to that.”

My gran’s book had said not so much. A 1-10 ratio. My jaw dropped. Depending on when he was turned, he could easily be the oldest mentor of the group.

He laughed as he led me across the road to the storefronts teeming with tourists. Candy and toys, clothing, mugs, and everything in between. There was no shortage of kitschy stuff. I barely saw it as I let my mind drift along the fact that Sarge could easily be over a hundred. Again, depending on when he was turned into a werewolf.

I tried to slow him down, the questions burning on the tip of my tongue. But the direction we were going distracted me completely. “Really, this is where we need to buy stuff?”

With a flex of his bicep, he tightened his hold on me. “It’s a trick of the eye, just stay with me.”

A set of stairs led up from the waterfront—straight up. I grimaced and tried not to think about the stairs even while I was trying desperately not to huff my way up them, one hand still locked against his arm, which made it all that much harder. Near the top, he was almost dragging me up each step, and I’ll be honest, I let him.