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“Now what?” Grayson asked with a sigh of relief when they exited the bar. “Go to the park and track down the flock of seagulls?”
“If not the hawk herself.” Cass nodded.
Mentally crossing her fingers, she led Grayson toward her car.
4
Grayson’s stomach lurched as Cass hammered the gas after the light turned green. He thought her highway driving was bad enough, but downtown driving was even worse, at least when it came to cursing about all the other drivers and pedestrians along the way. She seemed to have the biggest case of road rage he had ever seen when she rolled down her window to scream at a bunch of cyclists, “There’s bike paths for a reason!”
Grayson slid down in his seat out of embarrassment when she gave them the finger. Was it a peacock thing or just a Cass thing to drive so aggressively? And more importantly, how could he convince her to let him drive next time? He didn’t think he could handle another day of her chauffeuring him around. As a dog shifter, he usually enjoyed car rides, but that was not the case with Cass behind the wheel.
He was beyond pleased when she finally pulled into the park, swinging into a parallel parking space flawlessly.
“How do you think we’ll recognize these gulls?” she asked, stepping out of the bright red car. The rhinestones in the frame of her large sunglasses sparkled in the warm light of the early evening sun.
“I can sniff out birds but can’t discern the species,” Grayson answered, pulling his eyes away from Cass to scan the vast park. A few couples watched their children play on the swings. Lone joggers traversed the paved pathway that meandered through the sparse trees and neatly mowed grass. These shifters could be anyone.
Letting his nose guide him, he settled on a small group of people gathered around an overflowing garbage can. Some of them circled the trash receptacle, bobbing their heads as they walked, squawking and shoving at each other if one got too close. Nearby, a man perched on a picnic table eating French fries out of a carboard container while another male tried to steal some when he wasn’t looking.
“I have a feeling that may be them.” Grayson shook his head, disbelieving they were about to question such a foolish group of gulls. Dealing with a gang of crows was one thing, but seagulls in the park? The sooner they found the evil hawk, the sooner he’d never have to deal with another bird-brained group again—thank goodness. While it was true some hounds were known for hunting birds, it wasn’t his thing. His senses preferred game that traveled on the ground.
Cass lifted her glasses to get a better look. She wrinkled up her nose in disgust and then nodded. It seemed even bird shifters weren’t too fond of certain groups. She looked back toward Grayson and extended her hand as if to say, “after you.”
He didn’t move right away. Instead of obeying, he assessed her behavior. It was so unlike the Cass he’d once known to not make some sort of sarcastic comment. Maybe compare dirty, lazy dogs like Grayson to the garbage-loving seagulls. Come to think of it, she’d not made a comment about his clothing at all since she’d arrived.
He’d never gone a day knowing her without hearing some sort of “suggestion” regarding his fashion choices. Clearly, based on how she was dressed, fashion was still an interest of hers, but something was different—aside from the scars he’d noticed. There was something else changed about her.
Cass cocked her head to the side, taking in his pensive expression. “I know hounds have a one-track mind and all, but what’s on yours today?”
He was thrown off by the question, which, despite the word choice, lacked any hint of innuendo. No, the way she peered at him came off as more intimate. Not the usual surface-level Cass. He tried to crack a friendly smile, but his face didn’t cooperate. He was too stuck on figuring out what he was missing about her. “You just seem different,” he admitted. His deep voice softened at the words, as if afraid to utter them.
She crossed her arms and leaned up against her shiny car. A shy smile lifted up the corners of her ruby lips. “I am.”
He wanted to ask more, probe about her scars and her time out of the field, but before he could construct the right question, Cass said, “We need to interrogate them before they fly the coop.”
She nodded toward the possible gang of seagulls. There wasn’t a sure way to spot a specific bird type, but if Grayson was a betting man, he’d put his money on them.
He nodded at her logic and headed into the park. He’d have to figure out how Cass had changed later. Right now, he had a bird to track.
* * *
Cass’ chest swelled with pride at Grayson’s words. Though it wasn’t the time or the place to start such a discussion, it lifted her spirits that Grayson had an open mind about her. They’d been together for less than a whole day and he’d noticed she was different. This was more than she’d hoped for.
She was intent to prove that, while her feathers hadn’t changed, the mental scars had led to traumatic growth. Like a butterfly shedding its cocoon, Cass was a new woman. She would no longer look down on others like her mother had trained her to. The value of people was not measured by appearances. Her mother had bemoaned this fact when Cass lay in her hospital bed and never let up on her opinion until Cass was walking on her own and covering her scars with makeup. That’s when Cass realized that, while her mother dressed like a celebrity, she was rotten on the inside. A fate Cass dodged a bullet on.
She could’ve easily walked in her mother’s footsteps. Instead, she learned a life lesson and chose to be different, to free herself of that judgmental mentality. It took effort to not fall back to scrutinizing others all the time. All that criticism and hatred weighed her mother down. Cass wouldn’t be that. It had taken a car crash to open her eyes. Not at first, but after some time.
She regretted she couldn’t have had that epiphany when she’d first met Grayson. The hound dog’s first trip to the big city, with a peahen as his tour guide while they worked a joint ASS-FUC mission. She’d taken him to the hotspots and dive bars with the tastiest food, and while she did, she learned what a real gentleman was like. Grayson held open doors for her, waited for her to order first, listened while she blathered on about any topic, and offered her his coat when the nights turned chilly.
As they worked more cases together and became closer, he told her his dreams. Welcomed her like family. Shown her love that she’d never thought possible and cared for her in a way she’d never been in her whole life. He’d never criticized what she wore or how she styled her hair, as her mother had. He enjoyed her quick wit and strong personality.
For a short time, she’d lived on cloud nine.
An excited phone call home to Mother changed all that. She’d expected Mother to be hung up on his being a hound shifter since Mother had always hoped she’d find her way into a peacock’s harem. Be taken in by someone fancy from a high-class family.
Cass tried to explain to her mother that Grayson was sweet and caring, coming from a warm, supportive family. That he was the kind of man one could only dream of. That hadn’t mattered. Mother took one look at the picture Cass sent via text and coldly chirped,“Get rid of him before he tarnishes our name.”
“I know he looks like he’s fresh off the farm, but he has impeccable hygiene,”Cass tried to explain, to no avail. Her mother wouldn’t hear of it, and Cass was crushed. For once she wanted Mother to accept her independence. Just one time she wanted to be with who she wanted, not whom Mother chose. Mother had run Cass’ entire life like a drill sergeant, telling her what to wear and who to be friends with, setting her up on dates, even picking out her university. Cass shuddered at the memory of how much control she’d allowed her mother to have. And instead of growing a spine and letting her true feathers show, she bowed down to the woman’s wishes. Again.
