Mate Marked(18)

“Your business, not mine. Our relationship is strictly professional. I’m the arrester, and you are the arrestee. Have a nice day,” she said, and walked away without looking back. But there was a small part of her that was secretly pleased he had wanted her to know he and Sheila weren’t a thing.

With a sigh, she started walking back towards her house, which was a mile outside town. A few minutes later, Erika pulled up, and she climbed in to Erika’s car.

“Gossip travels fast in this town,” Erika said. She seemed down in the dumps.

“Great. So, everyone knows that I failed to arrest Roman and my car broke down and he gave me a ride back into town?”

Erika nodded. “Pretty much. Don’t take it too hard. At least he didn’t strip you naked and run you up a flagpole, which happened at the last town when somebody tried to arrest him.”

Chelsea had to force herself not to picture Roman stripping her naked. Well, she tried to stop herself, but she didn’t quite succeed. Those strong hands roving over her body, tearing off her clothes…

“Anyway,” Chelsea said. “I’ve got plenty of free time today if you want to practice being ladylike.”

“No, thanks,” Erika said, sounding miserable, which made Chelsea turn and stare.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s no point in trying anymore. Terrence dumped me. He said I embarrass him. My Aunt Louise is right—I’m never getting Mate-Marked. There’s not a single guy in town who likes me, and hardly anyone new ever comes to town. And if they do, they won’t like me. I’m going to die an old maid.”

“Did you like him?” Chelsea asked. “Did he make you feel special? Did he make you feel beautiful?”

“Me?” Erika sounded surprised at that. “I don’t know. Not really, but it’s not his fault. I never feel beautiful. He made me feel like I actually had a chance at getting Mate-Marked, finally, but I needed to try harder to stop embarrassing him.”

“And that’s what you wanted to be mated to?”

“Well… I mean…” Erika looked flustered. “I want to be mated to somebody.”

“So do I, someday. It doesn’t mean you have to settle for someone who makes you feel less than special,” Chelsea said passionately. “You never know what’s going to come your way.”

“Maybe.” Erika didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Erika,” Chelsea said after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“If you’re not pretending to be ladylike any more, could you please fix my car?”





Chapter Nine




The Dudley house had clearly seen better days. The blue paint was faded and peeling, the roof was in crying need of new shingles, and two window panes had been replaced with cardboard.

Chelsea pulled up in front of the house, feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She was always a little nervous approaching humans. A lot of humans were afraid of shifters, and humans who were fearful could get either violent or hostile.

However, as long she was sheriff, she might as well try to do something useful. If sheep were going missing, it could cause bad blood between the human town and the shifter town. Maybe she could do a little investigating and get to the bottom of it.

She could only hope that this went better than her fiasco of an arrest attempt the day before.

The woman on the front porch, an older lady who appeared to be in her seventies, was waving at her in a friendly fashion, so that was a good start. And she didn’t seem put off when Chelsea got close enough for the woman to see her golden-orange irises.

Of course, the woman had on two sets of glasses—one on her face, one on top of her head—and she was wearing a wool coat and a bathing suit. So she might not be entirely in possession of her faculties.

“Joyce, it’s about time you got here,” she said cheerfully. “What took you so long?” Then she looked Chelsea up and down. “My goodness, we really need to get some meat on those bones. People will think I don’t feed my family. Lunch is ready. Pot roast, your favorite.”

She seized Chelsea’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip and began tugging her towards the house.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Sheriff Chelsea Wintergreen,” Chelsea said as she let the woman drag her up the front steps and into the house. The house was neat and clean, but like the exterior, it spoke of hard times. The yellow floral-printed curtains were faded, and the matching yellow living room sofa had mismatched cushions of different sizes, and patches of silver duct tape in a couple of places. She tried again. “I’m not Joyce. I’m the sheriff. I’m actually here to ask some questions about those missing sheep.”