Page 34 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

Since I can’t, I do the next best thing. Like always, I throw myself into work—and my eavesdropping. I didn’t have much hope that a stray mention about a rat who deals in wolfsbane would actually mean something, but I’d hoped. So it didn’t pan out. Now that my customers aren’t treating me like a prospective murderer, maybe one of them will slip up and I’ll overhear another possible lead.

In a way, I do. At least, I find out that Declan’s murder being a one-and-done is probably not the case—and I find out in the most dramatic way possible.

Roxy bursts into Dough You Believe in Magic, her eyes vividly brighter, her hands thrown out in front of her. She’s wearing her worn leather jackets again, over a ripped t-shirt that says ‘you should see the other guy’ in red letters, and she’s paler than usual.

“Abigail Cloverfield is dead.”

I blink. I was in the middle of rolling cookie dough and placing it on a tray. I plop the greasy ball in my hands somewhere that might be the counter, might be the tray, then reach for the damp rag on my counter.

Abigail Cloverfield. Hang on⁠—

“The sweet doe shifter with freckles?”

“One and the same, Hon. I just heard it from Leo Marrow.”

I shake my head. I don’t know who that is.

“You know him. Tall. Pale blond hair. He’s a wolf, high-up in the pack, does something in law enforcement with the Alpha. Like a glorified meter-maid or something. He snarls when you don’t pay for street parking, but is a pretty chill guy otherwise.”

Oh, wait. I know him. “He stops by the bakery every week or so. Has a sweet tooth.” I think back. “Likes everything with lemon in it.”

I do my best to avoid him. While I was trying to stay off Max’s radar, I instinctively shied away from anything ‘wolf’. I think he might’ve been here during the catastrophe with the truth cupcakes last week, though so much of the panic of realizing that I’d charmed my customers accidentally has made my memories a little hazy.

Roxy shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I was crossing down Maple, heading for my shop, when I saw him talking to someone. A witch, maybe? I don’t know. She wasn’t a shifter, and that’s all I care about. Being curious⁠—”

“Nosy,” I mutter, still stunned that the doe I met yesterday is somehow dead now.

Roxy ignores me which, considering I want to hear the rest of her story, is probably for the best. “I decided to find out what was going on that had a wolf and witch gabbing this early. Leo heard it from the sheriff station. Abigail is dead.

“She didn’t go in to work this morning. That wasn’t like her. She’s like you, Honey. Up at the crack of dawn, working before the rest of her office. She was some kind of lawyer, and her secretary went to her house to make sure she was okay. She sure as fuck wasn’t.”

“What happened?”

“She was slumped over her table, a half-empty mug next to her.” Roxy gives me a meaningful look. “Her lips were blue.”

“Poison,” I breathe out.

I don’t pretend that I don’t know what ‘blue lips’ could mean, or be shocked that Roxy knows. Screw her owning some kind of junk shop. The more I see the way she moves around the town, the more I’m convinced that Roxy has her dexterous raccoon fingers in every bit of Moonburrow.

Too bad she doesn’t have any idea who killed Declan—or, when I ask if they have any suspicions about Abigail’s murder, the doe shifter.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Roxy adds after dashing my hopes that she might want to join me in mystery-solving. “Some weird shit’s going down in Moonburrow, and I don’t like the idea of you being mixed up in it. Be careful.”

“I didn’t know you cared that much.” It’s part tease, part wonder, and all automatic since my head is spinning with everything Roxy said.

“It’s nice to have a touch of home here in Moonburrow.” She shoots her finger at me, her claws at least three inches long and painted the same shade of red as the letter on her shirt. “Don’t read too much into it, Morgan.”

Yeah, yeah. I love you, too, Roxy.

She leaves, and I think back to last night. Abigail… she was so happy and full of life, talking about her predator mate, and the way she gave me a sachet of tea to welcome me to the prey circle⁠—

Wait a second.

Abigail gave me tea. Roxy said she was poisoned, and there was a half-empty mug of tea found next to her. I mean, it would be nuts to think that this whole mystery revolves around little ol’ me, but what if…

Screw it. Better to be safe than sorry.

Gus lifts his head, cocking it slightly when I start pulling open drawers behind the counter. Where did I put it? I made a mental note not to lose it, but of course I don’t remember which draw I shoved it in, and— yes! I found it!