Page 27 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

Saturday was out. However, after another busy day at the bakery, I decided to take the drive over after we closed Sunday night. The day was full of customers, but not leads. Roxy was MIA, and I didn’t hear anything from Max. A few customers were still eyeballing the bakery as though they expected I had a murderer behind my counter, only to be slightly disappointed when all I was harboring was an opossum who was crunching noisily on a dish of peanuts I set aside for him.

After closing, I pocketed my phone without looking at it. I didn’t even stop for dinner, and with a belly full of peanuts, Gus didn’t hiss in annoyance when I told him we were going to the car.

Gus is the perfect passenger princess. He likes to curl up on the passenger seat, chirping at me until I engage the seat warmer. I just plugged in the address and hoped for the best.

It’s five-thirty in the evening on a Sunday. You’d think there would be street parking, but Luck is still having her fun, messing with me. I ended up having to find a parking lot about four blocks away before I could find a spot. I patted my shoulder, Gus climbed into his customary spot, and away we went.

The smell of hundreds of different powerful herbs warring with each other perfume the street. I know we’re approaching before we even arrive, it’s that strong. It hits me that this shop is probably where Grandma Jean gets most of the supplies for her charmed cupcakes. Who knows, maybe if this lead washes out, at least I’ll know where to refill her herbs and powders whenever I start to run low.

It’s an idea, and it might even have been a good one—if the store wasn’t dark, the door locked, and the sign on the window saying:

Store hours: when the moon is high or the tide is full or the songbirds sing

Huh?

It’s closed. Obviously. But with hours like that, I have no idea how I’m ever going to have a chance to talk to this Joey.

I grab the door, giving it another frustrated tug.

“It’s best if you book an appointment,” comes a soft, gentle female voice.

I turn around quickly.

Someone had snuck up right behind me. And maybe I should be more on my toes if we have a murderer in Moonburrow, but once look at her, and I quickly dismiss her as a prospective suspect.

Seeing me look at her, she flinches, then straightens. It’s an instinct response for some prey shifters. Opossums play dead when they feel like they’re in danger. Raccoons cause chaos. Bunnies hop away, and deer stand frozen for a second before deciding whether they should flee or stand their ground.

Everything about this female tells me that she’s a doe. From her wide dark eyes to her dusky skin and short bobbed haircut streaked with amber and brown, she’s delicate, yet willowy, and she’s wearing an apologetic expression at odds with her basic black business dress.

She can recognize that I’m no predator. I’m probably one of the least dominant shifters in Moonburrow so she had nothing to be afraid of. Add my opossum accessory, and she seems more at ease as the seconds pass.

“I’m sorry. Did you say something about an appointment.”

She nods. “I have my office right next door. The witch who owns it is… she’s a unique spirit. She opens the store when she’s in the mood, but if you go online and book an appointment, she almost always will be in.” She pauses for a moment, nose wrinkling a bit as she says helpfully, “She has an app!”

Right. A witch with an app. Of course.

But how do I get in touch with Joey the rat?

“Oh. Thanks. But I was actually hoping to see my good friend Joey. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him lately.”

If she knows I’m full of shit, she has the decency not to call me out on it. “In that case, come to the prey circle meeting tonight! I always go. Joey never misses a meeting. You’re a prey shifter, right?”

I nod.

“Great. You should come!”

I never thought I’d go to a prey circle meeting when Betsy mentioned it to me the other day. Then I said: never say never. Looks like I was right.

“So what time does the meeting start?”

The Moonburrow Community Center smells faintly of sawdust, lemon cleaner, and nervous sweat. It’s the unofficial perfume of prey shifters, and it irks me how much it reminds me of home.

It’s a handful of minutes before seven o’clock. The meeting starts promptly at seven, but I didn’t want to seem too eager—or give me the chance to wimp out—so I’m only just walking in now.

No Gus. I’ll have to make it up to him, but he’s a wild opossum. While he’ll hiss and play dead when frightened, he has his size on his side. Wild opossums have been known to capture and eat rats. I don’t want to make Joey nervous. If he comes to the prey circle meetings, he’s probably the nervous sort, and it’s easy to look at me with my blonde hair and purple eyes and think I won’t try to eat his beast. But Gus… it’s better to keep him safe back at the bakery.

Not saying my little sidekick is happy about that, but since I gave him a roll, some oats, a sliced apple, and let him sleep in the basket downstairs so he could watch over the bakery while I was gone, he’ll be fine.