Page 20 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

I could deal with that. Back in Onancock, our pack was made up of mainly prey shifters, but even we knew better than to hide completely from predators. We needed a handful to keep us out of trouble, and mountain lion shifter Colin Woodrow did his best without losing his temper too often. Having a powerful Alpha look at me like I was nothing but trouble… I could deal with that.

But when the sheriff’s wolf eyes soften just enough to tell me that his beast seems almost pleased at the idea that he’s now—according to shifter politics—responsible for me like the rest of the shifters in Moonburrow… I almost want to shift and hide under the table to escape the way he’s looking at me now.

My charm should still be holding. I have to reapply the scent-dampener potion every morning, and I did this one. If he had to ask what I am, he can’t scent me so that means he has no idea that I’m his mate. This is just his overprotective Alpha instincts at work, especially since he’s dealing with the death of one of his packmates.

That’s the most important part. Finding out what happened to Declan. For the moment, it seems like I’m still being treated as both suspect and victim. Riordan eventually tells me I’m free to go, but that I shouldn’t make any plans to leave Moonburrow. The sheriff himself walks me out the door, and if my inner opossum is going nuts, being this close to him, I do my best to pretend like he’s not affecting me one bit.

Gus is curled up in my arms, halfway dazed in a fruit coma. He does slap at Sheriff Lobo with the tip of his tail, but I hurriedly tuck that part of him under my hand before the wolf shifter can growl at my opossum.

He seems even more curious about my sidekick now, though I can… I don’t know, sense it versus it having anything to do with what he’s saying with actual words.

I don’t explain Gus. It’s bad enough I had to confess my prey nature. I might not be able to protect myself, but when it comes to my sidekick, I can be as fierce as any predator.

As though he can tell, he keeps any comments to himself. He’s a scowly, intimidating sheriff, and if I have to work hard not to scoot up his behind because he radiates ‘safety’ in a way that amazes me, I do it.

He offers to give me a ride home. I quickly decline. The idea of being in a car with just me, Gus, and the sheriff… his scent enveloping me… nowhere to run? No. Not a good idea. Besides, it’s barely a twenty-minute walk back to the bakery. I’m fine.

I’m just about to shove the door out and make my escape when he murmurs my name softly. “Honey?”

My heart lodges in my throat. Don’t faint, Honey, don’t faint… “Yes?”

Sheriff Lobo hands me a small, white rectangle. “Here’s my card. Call if anything scares you again. Either of you.”

I take the card, but my pride has me tilting my chin up. I don’t meet his eyes again—I’m not suicidal to engage in another daring stare with an alpha predator—though I do tell him, “I didn’t say I was scared.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Oh.

Okay, then.

The bakery doesn’t open at all on Friday.

By the time me and Gus made it back, it would’ve been pointless to even try. I had the kitchen to worry about, the ovens to clean, and the eerie sense that Declan Rowe’s ghost was haunting the back alley. I didn’t look. I couldn’t bring myself to, and I was just glad that Gus pointedly avoided the door as much as I did.

Stuffed full of fruit, he curled up and napped on my side of the counter while I locked up behind me, then disappeared into the kitchen. About a half an hour into my clean, he threw his weight against the swinging door, waddling into the kitchen so he could keep me company during my attempt to clean up my latest mess.

Even counting all the usual prep for the morning, we were heading upstairs about an hour before the bakery’s usual closing time. Considering the day we’ve had, both Gus and I agreed that we deserved an early night in.

Suddenly, it was five o’clock in the morning, Saturday, and I was determined to return to work. It was a fluke. That’s what I told myself. Something terrible happened to that predator, but an even fiercer predator was on the case. I was just in the wrong spot and the wrong time. The sheriff had to know that.

He had to.

So I did what I always do, baking a little extra—and nothing charmed today, thank you very much—for the customers who missed out on yesterday. By the time eight o’clock rolled around I was ready to open.

Open, maybe, but deal with a scowling Roxy who pushed open the door the second after I unlocked it?

Yeah. That was a little more of a challenge.

She whirls on me. Her hair is loose, drawing attention to the largest white streak that travels from her part all the way down the length of her hair on the right side. She has on a black t-shirt that says ‘wild thing’ sprawled across her chest and the deep circles under her eyes are more purple than usual.

Her hands go right to her hips. “Honey. Shit. When I said something about dead bodies, I was just fucking around.”

I wince. “You heard?”

“All of Moonburrow’s heard!”

Damn. I was hoping that wasn’t the case.