Page 14 of Live Love Lasso

Lemon gasps and grabs her throat, wrapping elegant fingers over the familial tattoos that drift down into her tight shirt. “What does this mean?”

I look at the pretty vampire. “Means you and I are gonna get to know one another a little bit better, Miss Knox.”

She jerks back, glaring at me. “Are you joking? I didn’t hurt that moose! Ask Bluebell; I just called her because of the wolves!”

The entire story comes out then, but it doesn’t give me any insight into what happened to our dead friend. It makes sense that wolves would come to scavenge the body, but how did the moose die? How’d it end up in this hole when they don’t usually come into town?

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I consider the best path forward. Eventually, I look at Echo. “We don’t need to tackle this tonight, but tomorrow we’ll make the rounds of the other cottages, see if anyone saw or heard anything.” I look at Lemon. “And you are not to leave this haven, do you understand? I’m gonna have questions for you tomorrow.”

When she sputters, I put a hand up. “I’m not saying you did this. I’m just saying I need to find out what happened, and you’re one of my only leads.”

Elegant nostrils flare. “Kinda seems like you think it might have been me. What possible reason would I have to hurt that poor animal?”

“I don’t yet know that,” I say smoothly. “But it’s my job to find out what did happen, so stick close, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Bluebell shoots me a wary look. “You don’t really think she had something to do with this, Furyon…”

I shrug as I cast a final, sorrowful glance at the dead moose. “Something ain’t right here, Bluebell. And it’s up to me to get to the bottom of it.”

The girls fall silent, but the vampire’s eyes are on me, and I can almost see the wheels of her mind turning. I make a note to let Sheriff Rygold know what’s going on so he can lock down the portal station if need be. It’s hard to imagine this woman committing this crime on her first day in town, but you never really know a monster.

Lemon

This is great, just fucking great. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already embroiled in shenanigans that have nothing to do with me. Which seems to be the theme of my life this month. I glare at the sparkly pink boots at the bottom of my closet. They feel a lot like me right now—flamboyant and out of place and possibly useless.

Last night was long as hells, and as a result, I’m jittery and unrested this morning. Not to mention feeling very put upon that Furyon immediately blamed me for the poor moose’s demise. Sighing at my mental turn for the dramatic, I grab my bag and leave the cottage.

Furyon “Jumps to Conclusions” Zayle strides up the walkway toward me with a frown on his stupid handsome face. “Morning, Lemon.” He tips his cowboy hat at me. “I’ve got a friend with a backhoe coming to meet me to remove the moose. We’ll take it to the office for further investigation. Don’t expect I’ll be here when you get back, but I might come find you at work with a few questions.”

His tone is carefully cautious, which makes me want to slap his pretty face. He’s all gorgeous angles with a tiny divot in his chin that I’d like to stick my tongue into.

“I’d rather not do that at work.” I lift my chin. “Perhaps you can call me, and I’ll meet you back here instead?”

“Understood.” There’s that same careful tone again. Dark eyes drift to my neck tattoos and cautiously back up. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to imply you killed that moose. I know it came across that way a bit. I just meant I need to find out what happened.”

I haul my bag higher on my shoulder. “Yeah, well, I don’t even know what I’d want to do with a moose or why I’d throw it in a hole in my backyard if I did kill it. But knock yourself out.” I stride past him, resisting the urge to scent his blood. Dark elf blood is like a damn homing beacon for vampires, and his would be no different. But I cannot start smelling him and making this weirder.

When I get past him, he grabs my arm and halts me in place. “I’m gonna call you in a bit, alright?”

I pull my arm from his grip. “Suit yourself, Mister Zayle.”

He blanches. “Furyon’s fine, Lemon, or Ranger Zayle if you hafta get formal. Mister Zayle is my father, and he don’t live around here.” His cautious expression returns. “Have a great day.”

I stare at him. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

Pale blue eyes flecked with silver narrow as he cocks his head to the side, his smirk returning. Why does he have to smell like snow and pine trees? He’s stupid hot, and he knows it.

He chuckles, tipping his hat again. Then he spins on his heel and disappears around the side of the cottage and out of view. I most definitely don’t stare at the way his ass fills out those jeans. I blame said staring on my love of human country music, which has given me vaguely romantic notions of life in the country.

So far, the reality is not living up to my favorite songs. Pine Gulch is way more “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” than “Body Like a Back Road.”

Four hours later, I don’t feel much better. I’m alone in a barely lit room somewhere in Glimmer’s basement, scraping dried-up, crusty potions off the floor of a room that looks like it hasn’t been used in a century or two. I try not to let the tears well up when I consider just how much I’m not going to learn by doing this. The only upside so far is that she didn’t give me a….what did she call it yesterday? Babysitter.

It’s clear that Letitia wants nothing to do with me, though, so maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll tell Father I’m a crack whiz at potions. It’ll get me out of her hair, and we can all go back to business as usual.

“Lemon! Lemon Knox, are you down here?” a voice floats down from the stairwell.

Rocking back onto my heels, I rub a hand over my sweaty forehead, noting that my gloves are coated in sludge and potion powder. I grunt as I rise and head to the door.