Still, he was comfortable. For the first time in a long time he didn’t have to hide what he was. When somebody told a corny joke he didn’t have to muzzle his instinct to growl. He liked how he was accepted and the potential for friendship.
When he got back to his rented house Owen phoned Cutler. “I’m getting to know a few people,” he reported. “Men, mostly. There are no recent arrivals in town, except myself. No one’s spotted any transients.”
“Somebody in the sheriff’s department ran your ID this morning. I’ve flagged you so I get pinged if somebody checks up on you.”
“Yeah. Tom Ray. You know him?”
“He’s a good cop. A good were. He’s filling in as interim sheriff.”
“He pulled me over because he didn’t recognize me.”
“That and you drive a pickup.”
“Huh?”
“Tire marks at the scene of Ed’s murder were from a big pickup. Just keep your eyes open and be especially wary of anybody driving a truck.”
“Every second vehicle out here is a truck.”
“Yeah. Still, be safe. Fina will skin me alive if anything happens to you.”
“Ah, I’m getting all weepy.”
“Fuck you,” Cutler said amicably.
“You’re cute but you’re not my type. Anyway, gotta go. Give Fina and Ryan a hug for me.”
“Will do.”
After he ended the call Owen stripped off his clothes, climbed in between the clean sheets Piper had loaned him until he could buy some of his own and cursed the delivery schedule that wouldn’t get his new bed there until the next day.
The next morning Owen swung by the Amoses’ house to pick up Piper. His nose actually twitched when she opened the door and the smell of fresh baking wafted out.
“Come on in,” she invited him with a big smile. “Cory’s already gone to work but I made extra muffins this morning to say thank you for driving me around today.”
“My pleasure,” Owen said as he took a chair at the kitchen table. Piper poured him coffee and juice, gave his shoulder a squeeze then set a platter of raisin muffins and fresh-cut fruit in front of him.
“Eat up,” she encouraged him. “I’m the one who’s grateful. Cory insists on driving me to and from work…says he likes the together time…but he starts earlier than I do so it was nice having some time to myself this morning to putter around the house. What did you have for dinner last night?”
Owen blinked at her tone. It was part polite curiosity and part motherly grill. “A couple of burgers and some pub fries down at the Hair of the Horse.”
The look she gave him made him feel like a kid. “Keep eating like that and you’ll have a cholesterol count higher than Cory’s. Still,” she added as she turned away to wipe down the counter, “it’s fun to ignore the veggies now and then. But how about you have dinner with us tonight?”
He could just see the food groups dancing behind her eyes.
“Sounds terrific,” he agreed and helped himself to another muffin.
“Turn in here, would you, Owen?” Piper said as they neared the drugstore. “Cory forgot his lunch this morning.”
Out of habit Owen scented the air outside the drugstore before he followed her inside. He was simply intending to pay his respects to the Alpha. He regretted his decision when he saw Piper’s determined walk, when he saw the way Cory’s mouth flattened when his slip of a mate marched up to the dispensary counter.
Her saccharine smile made Owen wince and it wasn’t even directed at him.
“You forgot this.” She dropped a small cooler bag onto the counter. “How is it that you conveniently forget your lovingly prepared, low-calorie, nutritious lunch every time the special at the diner down the road is a double cheeseburger?”
“Ah Piper.” Cory’s voice was deep and seductive. He came out from behind the counter and wrapped his arms around Piper’s waist. “A man’s got needs.”
“Needs for medium-rare hamburger piled high with grilled onions? Nice try but I’d like to keep you and your ticker around for a few more years.”
Owen decided now was a good time to pretend interest in something else. He spotted a guy pushing a dolly full of soft-drink cases, trying to get it over the lip near the front door. He walked to the front of the store. “Here, let me help.” Taking hold of the bottom of the dolly, Owen lifted so it cleared the hump.
“Thanks. They keep making these cans bigger. I swear it’s punishment for my misspent youth.” The man flashed Owen a wide smile and held out his hand. “Steven McMaster but everybody calls me Mac.”
Indeed, the name embroidered on the front of his shirt said Mac.
“Do me a favor and grab the case of water off the top before it falls?” Mac asked when the load wobbled precariously.
Owen lifted it off and followed Mac to the bank of coolers down the side of the store.
“You new in town? Military, right? I can always tell. It’s the walk that gives you away.” His smile widened. He didn’t say no when Owen started helping unload the cases of soda.
“Guilty as charged, on both counts,” Owen replied.
“You must be here to see Cory.”
“Yes but he and his mate are, um…”
“Let me guess,” the older man laughed. He had a friendly face and had to be in his mid-sixties. Laugh lines crinkled the skin around his blue eyes. He was balding, about five-nine and wiry rather than bulky like most weres. “Cory Amos skipped out on a homemade lunch in favor of the diner.”
“Does he ever get away with it?”
“Sometimes.” Mac chuckled then leaned to stretch his back. “Thanks again, son,” he said and slapped Owen’s shoulder. “It’s appreciated.”
By the time Piper came looking for him Owen knew that Mac’s route brought him through town three times a week, that the diner served a terrific breakfast and that he was more comfortable getting to know older weres than young ones. Guys like Mac were easygoing, calm and had nothing to prove. They just accepted Owen for who he was and couldn’t be bothered getting into a pissing match.
He made a mental note to check out jobs where he could travel a set route. Make a lot of friends, be accepted without having to commit himself. It sounded pretty good to him.
“This can’t be right.” Owen frowned as he rechecked his test results.
Piper looked up from her desk. “Remember, there’s a reason that particular test is free. It’s simple and therefore inaccurate within limits.”
“Within limits?” Owen looked up and felt the furrow between his eyes deepen. “This says I’m suited for a job with the Fish and Wildlife Service.”
“That doesn’t sound unreasonable.”
“As a forensic biologist?” He read the description out loud. “Involves extensive time spent in the bush, searching for wildlife carcasses. Forensic biologists identify the species if not precluded by decay, dissect the carcasses to determine cause of death then record their findings for statistical analysis.”
“Who knows? Maybe if the state springs for rubber gloves?”
“Yeah and nose plugs too I hope.” Owen winced.
“What did you list as your primary interests?” Piper stood and came over to the small conference table Owen was working at.
“I like to work outdoors. And I answered yes when they asked if I had an interest in science.” He shrugged. “I like putting bombs together and blowing stuff up. That’s a science.”
Laughing, Piper laid her hand on his head then walked back to her desk. “We’ll have you do another test tomorrow. A more complex one. It’ll take longer but the results are more useful.”
Owen grunted, tossed the test he’d completed into a recycling bin and read through a calendar for the University of Wyoming for the next hour, until Piper was ready to be driven home.
Dinner that night was good. Piper grilled some lean steaks and served them with corn and brussels sprouts, baby potatoes tossed with parsley and a pasta and tomato salad that tasted as good
as it looked. The conversation was interesting. Cory talked about some new ideas he had for the community center’s after-school care program and wanted Owen’s input about what activities and equipment were popular on military bases. Piper and her mate had a heck of a time busting Owen’s chops because not one but two local, unmated females had dropped by the drugstore that afternoon to make discreet inquiries about whether Owen was mated or not.
Things went downhill quick when Piper offered to get out the phonebook for Owen so he could look up some numbers. He said his thanks and left before his face got any redder. Talking to Piper about stuff like that was like telling your mother how you lost your virginity.
She’d been there, done that but nobody wanted to share the details.
Owen went to the Hair of the Horse. Other than the diner and the supermarkets, it was the only place open that hour with a steady stream of people Owen could strike up a conversation with. He hadn’t forgotten why Cutler had asked him to come to Pinebridge.
When he walked in the bartender looked up, called out a hello and fished out a longnecked Heineken from the cooler under the bar. Some of the faces in the place were the same as last night but not all of them.
“Hey, Frannie,” Owen said in his friendly nice-guy voice when the dark-haired, perky waitress strolled up to the bar. “I like those shoes. They look good on you.”
Owen didn’t know a heel from a hemline but he did know women liked it when you complimented them. The effort was rewarded when Frannie did a little pirouette that made the flounce on the bottom of that micro-short skirt of hers flare up. He looked her long legs up and down with open appreciation.
“Thanks. They’re new,” she added and pointed a toe for him to admire. Hmm. If he’d been planning on sticking around for a while, he’d offer to suck on it for her. That and other parts of her fine self. “Your friend’s at his usual table by the jukebox.”
Owen frowned and followed her line of sight. Tom Ray was leaning back in a chair, surveying the room and half-listening to a couple of fellows who looked like ranch hands. They were laughing at whatever it was they were saying.
Frannie’s glossy mouth opened in a wide smile. “You two do nasty things to a female’s libido, soldier boy. You shouldn’t be allowed in the same county at the same time,” she added then flashed him a saucy wink and picked up the tray Andy the bartender had filled for her. Owen watched her sweet behind sway as she carried her load of drinks to a table of females. All of them were still dressed for the office, kicking back and having themselves a time.
When Tom caught Owen’s eye, he nodded and lifted his coffee cup. Owen made his way over to Tom’s table.
“Owen.” Tom greeted him with a smile and a nod. The deputy sheriff had changed out of his uniform and was wearing jeans and a snap-button shirt.
Did everybody in the state have a cowboy fixation?
“Did you get to start that aptitude testing with Piper?” Tom asked and pushed aside the plate in front of him. It held what looked like the remains of a meatloaf and boiled potato dinner.
“Oh yeah.” Owen sat down and took a drink of his beer.
“What did it say you were suited for?”
“You don’t want to know. Especially with a full stomach.”
Tom shot him a quizzical look but whatever follow-up question he was going to ask was interrupted when the office ladies, hooting and laughing amongst themselves, cleared a swath as they made a beeline for Tom and Owen’s table.
Frannie was behind them and Owen suspected whatever she was whispering was egging the females on.
“Tom,” said a statuesque brunette with legs that went all the way up. She looked him over like he was prime rib and she was starved for a taste. “Introduce us to your friend.”
Owen had to concentrate to keep track of the five names. He’d just got them down when one of the females, a tiny thing with a mouth that looked like it had been made for the express purpose of sucking a man into her soul, grabbed his hand. She was tiny but strong and she dragged him to the dance floor in front of the jukebox. Two of the other females pulled on his free arm. The other two females grabbed Tom, looped their hands around his waist and dragged him up too.
One of them dropped some coins in the juke and a hard-driving Luke Bryan tune pulsed through the bar. Owen had never danced with two women at once, let alone three. Tom didn’t seem to have any problems adjusting and he had an arm around each female, laughing at something one of them said and stepping them all around. The females’ girl bits swayed in all the right places.
Owen gave up trying to figure out the logistics and let the females guide him around the dance floor at will.
By the seventh dance and his second beer he was convinced Wyoming had some outstanding points, horses notwithstanding.
Now and then a cowboy would cut in, take a female off Owen’s or Tom’s hands for a while then return her. Other females drifted in and out of the group. Whenever he got a chance to sit out a dance Owen eavesdropped on as many conversations as he could. Everybody seemed to be there for a good time, maybe to blow off a little steam. Nobody was talking about Ed Timberman or his murder.
All in all, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
Finally, just about the time Owen was worried his steel-toed boots were going to stomp a hole in the floor, the lovely office ladies called it a night. He and Tom returned to their table, where Tom picked up his shearling coat and Stetson.
Stetson? Owen glanced down and saw cowboy boots sticking out beneath the cuffs of Tom’s jeans. Lip-smacking females aside, Owen was in cowboy purgatory.
“Time for me to go,” Tom said and buzzed a kiss against Frannie’s cheek when she came by to clear their table.
“Will you be here tomorrow?” Owen asked, more out of curiosity than anything.
“Afraid not. I have got myself a date,” Tom announced happily. “Temporary deputy sheriff on loan from a nearby pack.”
“Huh.” Owen drank the last of his beer. “Not that it matters but I never could tell whether someone was gay or straight.”
“What? Nah. The deputy’s a lady and a fine one at that.”
“Huh. She got a sister? Or do you for that matter?”
“She doesn’t but I do. Three of them. All mated and older than me.” Tom shuddered lightly. “Sailed right through my sensitivity training at the Academy. Just nodded and said ‘Yes. You’re right’ in every simulation before hauling my ass out of the estrogen line of fire.”
The next night Owen picked a booth in the town diner and sat so he could see the entire place, plus the street outside. The diner wasn’t busy. In fact, most of the customers were finishing their meals or leaning back in their chairs, nursing what looked like final cups of coffee. Cory and Piper had invited him to dinner but he’d politely refused. He needed to be out in the community, meet new people, and besides, mates needed time to themselves now and then.
Owen ordered the special when the waitress, a middle-aged were with sturdy ankles and a smile a mile wide, came up to him. She brought him a coffee and a glass of water without being asked. Huh. They sure seemed to like their coffee in Pinebridge. Maybe it took their minds off horses for a while.
The place smelled as good as it had the day Owen arrived. The tables were clean, the décor had that fifties roadside grill feel to it and the music drifting through the speakers in the ceiling was from the same era.
There wasn’t a wagon wheel or piece of tack in sight. Thank god.
“Here you go, darlin’.” The waitress, whose name tag identified her as Myra, set a generous serving of short ribs, garlic mashed potatoes and green beans in front of him. Beside that she placed a small plate holding two rolls and pats of butter and another plate with a strawberry and spinach salad. “Give me a shout if you need anything else.”
Owen was a bit surprised she didn’t pat his head before leaving. Maybe she would once she knew him better.
As he ate, he eavesdropped. He didn’t learn much, except th
e results of a cattle auction the weekend before and some speculation about that summer’s rodeo circuit. The ribs were just about the best he’d ever tasted, stewed in tomatoes and white wine. Owen devoured his serving then sopped up the gravy with one of the rolls. When Myra stopped by to refill his coffee cup he was more than happy to take her suggestion and ordered a refill on the ribs. When she left for the kitchen she didn’t pat his head but she did give his shoulder a squeeze.
All this motherly interest lately felt unfamiliar but not uncomfortable.
He was polishing off his second helping of ribs when a man wearing a chef’s jacket and tall hat came out from the kitchen. Owen watched the man move around the diner, going from table to table, greeting the other customers by name. There weren’t a lot of people left by now and the man talked to them about everyday things…the weather, their pups. He asked if they’d liked their dinner, accepted their compliments and bid them a good evening when they left.
After the last customer paid and walked out the door the cook walked up to Owen’s table.
“I wanted to drop by and say hello.” He held out his hand. His skin was smooth but his grip was solid. “I’m David Hold. I own this place. I’m guessing the ribs were to your liking.”
Owen couldn’t help grinning. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“Glad you enjoyed them. You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
“Yep. I’m Owen Wells. Would you like to sit down for a minute?”
“It’d be a treat, son.” The man sighed as he slid into the booth across from Owen. “Been on my feet all day and my dogs are barkin’.” He smiled up at the waitress, who walked over to them. “Bring us two servings of berry pie, would you, Myra? Then why don’t you take off early. I don’t think anybody else’ll be in tonight.”
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