Page 17 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

Being escorted to the sheriff’s office wasn’t on my bingo card, but knowing the way that both Fate and Luck seemed to have taken a curious interest in one silly opossum’s life, it should’ve been.

When the big male wolf suggested that they bring me inside to ‘take my statement’—or, you know, interrogate me—I figured he meant that we could hustle into the bakery. I could offer snacks, maybe make some hot chocolate to settle my nerves… yeah. He had a totally different idea.

We did go inside, but only because the sheriff was being careful to keep Declan and his final resting spot cordoned off. The deputy murmured something to one of the other wolves, then the three of us… four, if you count Gus… entered the bakery, cut through it, and paused when the scent of burnt bread and sugar slammed into us.

“My ovens!” I cried, panicking again when I saw pale grey plumes of smoke escaping at least one of them.

On the plus side, I didn’t burn Dough You Believe in Magic down. Then again, considering I was unconscious for about two and a half hours according to the wall clock, I’m lucky that some charred buns and too-cripsy danishes were the worst of the loss.

The bakery was still closed. Obviously. I’m open every day except for Monday, and I hated to think how many customers saw the ‘closed’ sign on the front door and wondered what was up since today was Friday. It’ll have to stay that way a little longer, too, I thought, then unlocked the door so we could exit through the front.

The sheriff was being very careful to put a little distance between us, torn between treating me as a suspect and another possible victim, but he cleared his throat when he noticed that Gus was curled up on my shoulder, intent on joining us. Borrowing Roxy’s teasing quip, I told him that Gus is my emotional support opossum, and he just nodded and instructed me to climb in the backseat of the police cruiser emblazoned with the word ‘sheriff’ over the much smaller ‘Moonburrow’ beneath it.

Turns out, I’ve passed the sheriff’s office a couple of times without having any idea. Moonburrow is basically your idyllic supernatural town, as suburban as you can get for the most part. The pack territory expands a little further than that. When the sheriff is being the Alpha, he has a seat of power in a hundred acre wooded area where the predators live in cabin-like homes with territory to roam instead of close houses and condos where prey shifters gather, believing the old adage that there is safety in numbers.

Because Sheriff Lobo is responsible for Moonburrow as a whole, he has an Alpha cabin in the woods, plus a small office where he can hang his nonexistent hat when he’s in downtown Moonburrow.

Nestled between a wolf-owned butcher shop and a laundromat, there’s an unmarked door with a plane of tinted glass on each side. Sheriff Lobo pulls the cruiser in front of it, the only car parking along this pedestrian-heavy street.

I’ve been watching him the entire ride. You’d think his eyes would be on the road. Not even close. His predatory stare keeps flickering to the rear view mirror, watching me right back.

Once we were away from the overwhelming peppermint, both wolves removed their masks. The deputy is as classically handsome as I figured he would be, but while there is some similarity in their features, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I preferred Sheriff Lobo’s features.

So maybe I’m biased. I should probably be attracted to my fated mate.

His nostrils flare. I stiffen. Here’s hoping my scent-dampener charm holds or else I’ll have even more problems…

I didn’t kill that wolf, but someone seems to be going to a little trouble to make it appear like I did. The cupcake… I can’t stop thinking about the cupcake. I made it for the sheriff… I made it for my mate… and there’s no way I would’ve put anything in it that might hurt a predator.

But how do I explain that without revealing all of my truths?

I don’t know. Luckily, I have a small reprieve as the deputy opens the back door, waiting for me to scoot my way out. By the time I’m standing, Gus chittering softly in my ear, the sheriff is gone, already stalking inside the unmarked door.

I guess I should be glad that they don’t put me in cuffs. That’s not how it’s done in shifter communities. Silver causes too much damage, while iron and steel could barely keep a pup contained. Besides, justice is swift. If he knew for sure that I killed Declan, as the Alpha, he’d take care of it. As it is, with the peppermint extract removing his greatest asset—his sniffer—he has to rely on his ‘sheriff’ side to solve the crime.

And that, it seems, includes interrogating me like I thought—or, I should say, having his sidekick do the job since he’s nowhere to be found.

The big male finally introduces himself as Riordan, Max Lobo’s right-hand wolf… which, I realize an instant later, makes him the Moonshadow Pack Beta. He’s also the deputy, and he leads Gus and me into a closed-off room that has a small rectangular table, four chairs, and a mirrored window that I’d bet the lease to Dough You Believe in Magic is two-way, and that Sheriff Lobo is on the other side of it right now, watching me get settled in one of the seats.

I’m nervous. Shaky. I haven’t eaten yet, and I died. My braids are mussed. I have a smear of dirt on my cheek, my face paler than usual. The way my eyes are wide gives me a sudden stunned look. Add my opossum scarf and… yeah. I’m not too surprised when Riordan asks me if I want anything before we start.

My initial instinct is to say no. My stomach has been flip-flopping since I woke up so close to my fated mate, and the memory of Declan’s blue lips will be haunting me for a while. I can sense Gus’s hunger, though, and I ask mildly, “Do you have any fruit?”

Riordan glances at the mirror, already proving my suspicions right because, only a few minutes later, Sheriff Lobo walks into the room, carrying a plate of apple slices and red grapes in, plus a glass of water.

He sets them both in front of me before taking the seat opposite me. Riordan moves to the corner, crossing his arms over his broad chest, leaning up against the wall so he can leave the real interrogation to the Alpha after all.

I’m already crumbling. The peppermint blew out my snout, too. Here, in his office, I’m wrapped up in his dark pine scent and his gleaming gold eyes.

And the food…

Ah, crud. My maybe mate is offering me food. I know he’s just playing good cop after Riordan got me settled down. I know he’s not propositioning me with a plate of fruit. Still, tell that to my inner opossum.

I take one of the grapes, passing it to Gus. He clicks his teeth, showing me his appreciation, then gets to work on nibbling the piece of fruit.

Leaving the rest of the plate alone for now, I take a sip from my glass of water, then give the two wolves a nervous smile.

A small notebook appears in one of Sheriff Lobo’s paws, a pen in the other.