Page 7 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

A familiar scent of woodsy pine and something sharp slaps me in the face so effectively, my hand jostles, sending flour flying everywhere.

And I know without trying to focus on the why that I’m about to have company.

See, I’m really not a big fan of cops, human or supe—but that goes double when it comes to Sheriff Max Lobo. He’s the head of the small law enforcement office that keeps us all in line which makes sense since that’s not his only title in town.

Sheriff Lobo is also the Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack. Made up of mainly wolves, it’s a heavy predator pack that is tasked with watching over the prey shifters and making sure no other supes get into trouble in town. Even if you don’t respect the Alpha—and who wouldn’t—you have to deal with Sheriff Lobo.

Or, if you’re like me, you buy a scent-dampener charm from a coven about a half an hour away so that you can hide who and what you are from the most powerful male in town…

I’ve managed to do so for two months. I was planning on doing it for a lot longer if I could, but just because I’m covering up my innate Honey-ness, that doesn’t mean that my inner opossum stops chittering whenever I sense he’s near.

Or my sidekick, either.

Gus leaving tracks in the spilled flour as he races across the counter, perching near the register… yeah. He knows who’s about to walk through the bakery’s front door.

Considering what happened with the truth bombs this morning, so do I.

It’s the mate who doesn’t know that I’m his mate, and once again I’m in trouble.

It could’ve been worse.

Reflecting on the events of yesterday while I work out my frustrations by kneading some bread dough, I remind myself that it could’ve always been worse.

On the plus side, I managed to get through the conversation with Sheriff Lobo without fainting which, to me, is a huge success. He just came by because—like I’d expected, even if I hoped otherwise—the Moonburrow gossips were talking about what happened with the honesty cupcakes.

Turns out, the ‘boss’ that Lara mentioned is actually the mongoose mayor of Moonburrow (say that three times fast) and Mayor Rhimes wasn’t too happy to hear that his assistant had used magic to curse his printer. The fox shifter, I learned, is Frannie, the owner of a pricy salon in town. Embarrassed by her own admission that she dyed her fur, she spilled Lara’s secret to hide hers and… yeah. No surprise, it got back to the sheriff after he had to break up a witch-shifter fight that left Lara nursing a couple of scratches and Frannie cursed to be bald.

Somehow, that led to the sheriff—and the Alpha—to getting involved, but since I don’t shy away from the fact that this is a witch-owned bakery that sells charmed treats, I wasn’t in trouble.

Small mercies, I guess. Anything that had me drawing Sheriff Lobo’s attention… yeah, no. I was happy to tell him my side of the story, wave him off when he didn’t push back, and hope like hell that my charm held.

For a moment there, right before he headed for the door, I wasn’t so sure it did. He paused, claws tapping against the metal badge he wears pinned to his hip—the only concession that the too-handsome sheriff is the town sheriff—as he tilted his head just enough to sample the air. First with his open mouth, tasting the air on his tongue. Then, drawing in a deep breath before shuddering it out again.

I nearly stopped breathing myself.

He didn’t say anything, though. Wearing a puzzled expression and a scowl, the sheriff let himself out of Dough You Believe in Magic, and I refrained from having a panic attack until the lingering pine scent was as much a ghost as my prospective mate bond.

Hey. Fake it ‘til you mate it, right?

Or, if you’re a wound-up opossum who trembles every time you think of the predator that Fate wants to give you to, not.

You see, discovering that the all-power wolf shifter is my mate was the biggest shock to hit me once I finished relocating to Moonburrow. For the opossum who spent all of her twenty-eight years alone, never really too fussed with finding her mate just yet, the heat flooding through me when Sheriff Lobo’s scent reached me fully triggered my fight or flight instincts.

Well, no. I’m a particular type of prey shifter. I have a flight or faint—or ‘play dead’—response, and I was stunned when I didn’t drop… even if I did do everything possible to hide myself from the sheriff’s own sniffer while I figured out what the hell I was supposed to do.

I’ve ran into Sheriff Lobo countless times over the last two months—and, okay, it’s not countless because my inner opossum has been keeping track and it’s been sixteen times—but as far as he’s concerned, I’m just the witch granddaughter of the witch baker who makes treats for his town.

And, for now, that’s all I can be.

CHAPTER 3

ARE YOU SURE?

Mother is trying to feed a wolf.

I don’t approve, but she is kind.

She is my Mother.