1
SCOTT
“Welcome to Fox Hollow,”the woman at the hotel reception desk greeted him. “Your room is ready. Please let us know if we can do anything to make your stay more comfortable.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, thank you.” Scott Jefferson pocketed his room key.
The Fox Hollow Hotel was a remnant of the Victorian era, a four-story white wooden grande dame from the past, reluctantly remodeled with a few concessions, like elevators and Wi-Fi. Still, it looked out on Fox Lake and offered a restaurant that guaranteed he wouldn’t go hungry, no matter what other options might be available in the small resort town.
Traveling light, he only had a small roller bag and his backpack for the week’s stay. Scott took in the framed photos of the trails and camping along the hotel’s walls and made a mental note to think about diversions if he returned for fun, not work.
Nice place,his coyote side remarked in his mind.Now, how’s the food?
Shh,Scott silently reprimanded his alter-ego. Being a shifter meant seeing the world through two sets of eyes, and in Scott’s case, hearing from an opinionated, and hungry, animal persona.You won’t starve. We just had lunch.
Ages ago,his shifter side protested.Be that way.His coyote retreated in his consciousness to sulk, and Scott rolled his eyes affectionately.
His phone rang, and Scott checked it, wondering if his editor had thought of more questions. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” He expected a spam call or a wrong number.
“We’re watching you,” a man’s voice said, then the call ended.
Scott stared at the phone in his hand like it was a snake ready to bite.What the hell was that about?
Anger followed the initial rush of fear, and he returned the call. It rang for over a minute before a hang-up cut off the call.
Scott thought about blocking the number, but his reporter’s curiosity made him wonder who was behind the call and which of his projects might have prompted the interest.It could be a prank. If it happens again, I’ll see if the number can be traced,he thought.I’m not going to worry about it for the moment.
Scott dropped off his bags in his room and headed out to explore. He checked the time and realized he still had an hour before his reservation with the local seaplane service for a flyover tour of the area.Plenty of time to get my bearings,he thought.
“Help yourself to one of the maps,” the reception greeter called out to him when he returned to the lobby. “We’re a small town, but we’ve got everything you need.”
He thanked her and took a guide off the stack, unfolding it as he left. Fox Hollow’s downtown curved along the bend in the main road, with offices and businesses behind that. His cousins owned The Lone Coyote Gift and Book Shop, and while Scott had visited Fox Hollow before, it had been a long time. He headed there first to get his bearings.
“Scott! Great to see you. Been a while. How was your trip?” His cousin Lynn greeted Scott and came around from behind the register to give him a hug.
“Trip was fine, but I’m glad to be off the road. I just got in. How are you and Troy? How’s the shop been?” At the moment, the store was quiet. Lynn stayed where she could see the door, but Scott was glad they had a few minutes to themselves.
“The summer is always crazy. Fall and winter are the next busiest for all the snowbirds who like their camping and skiing,” Lynn said. “Spring is slow because no one likes sleeping in a tent in the rain. But the hotels and lodges and organizations create events to give people reasons to come despite the weather, and so it never really gets too quiet.”
She gave him an assessing look. “How about you?”
“Still writing articles and teaching online,” Scott said. “I stay busy, and I’m grateful for that, but I feel like I’m missing a thread to tie it all together.”
“Would that thread be a ‘what’ or a ‘who’?” she teased. “Any news on the romance front?”
Scott sighed. “Nothing to report aside from a few dates that fizzled. I’m restless. I’ve had a good run in Albany, but maybe it’s time to shake things up.”
We need to find our mate,his coyote agreed. Scott ignored him for the moment.
“You’re always welcome in Fox Hollow,” Lynn said. “We’re small but mighty. Seriously, this town manages to be close-knit without being intrusive. There’s a real family vibe. Or maybe it’s closer to say ‘pack.’”
Like Scott, Lynn and her husband, Troy, were both coyote shifters. Fox Hollow had a reputation as a haven, although not everyone who lived in the town had those abilities. The community also welcomed those with psychic and supernatural gifts. That set it apart from Albany, which was blissfully unaware of paranormal realities.
“We’ll see,” Scott replied. “The thought has crossed my mind. I always love hiking in the woods when I come here.”
Lynn’s smile slipped. “About that…be careful. I know coyotes are predators, but there have been some sightings of strange creatures lately. No attacks, at least not yet, but best not to tempt fate.”
