Her Mane Man (Online Shifter Dating Agency Romance)

by Sasha Winter

  “How? He doesn’t think he’s out on a date, we’re just out for drinks as far as he’s concerned.”

  Ashley opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t quite think how to explain. She had felt so bad for Marcus after the incident with the massage, not because she was offended but because of how humiliated he had obviously been. He came across as a sensitive soul and clearly had a lot more demons from his army days than he was letting on, so she had hoped to do all she could to put him at ease with the physio process. Being suddenly shoved in his face as possible date material was not a sound way of furthering that goal, however. She pictured him feeling like something of a rabbit in the headlights, and the last thing she needed was him being all tense and nervous again whenever they were in session. How to begin explaining this to Veronica was beyond her though—no way was she going to spill the beans about the intrusion from the underwear department.

  “Are you sure you don’t like him?” Veronica asked, barely disguising her disbelief.

  “I never said that. I do…I’m fond of him, I guess.”

  And handsome as hell, but let’s not mention that, she added mentally.

  “And he’s cute isn’t he? Could be dashing if he wasn’t so gloomy, but that’s where you come in—two gloomy souls teaching each other to smile again.”

  “But it’s…”

  “It’s what?”

  “Oh, nothing. Let’s just go and have a drink.”

  There would come another time for reading Veronica the riot act. Re-establishing some kind of authority over her assistant was surely necessary, but Ashley was still finding her way out of the cloud and would just have to put up with being railroaded on this occasion. Marcus probably felt just as awkward as she did, and so she decided that the best course of action was probably just to go back out there and put him right at ease. He seemed like a nice guy and wasn’t going to make some inappropriate pass at her, and maybe just this once it might work to try and be more than just a physiotherapist. Maybe he needed a friend as well as a professional.

  She was not unlike him in that respect.

  From a distance it appeared Marcus was having just such a conversation with Blake. More powerful once together, she recalled, remembering she had predicted having to keep an eye on Veronica and Blake but been caught up hook, line and sinker as soon as their first net was cast.

  Her mind flashed back then to her part in the embarrassment of their first meeting. Should she have really made that quip about removing his pants in the first place? She didn’t usually ask in such a way so was unsure what came over her, or whether it had contributed to his unintended appreciation. Then again, she had been in the act of taking naughty selfies just before he entered, which she wouldn’t have done if she knew he was good-looking. Both had combined to make her act differently, resulting in a poor attempt at being humorous.

  “Hey, Marcus,” she said upon their return. “What’s that you’re drinking? I could do with one myself.”

  “Whiskey,” he replied. “I suspect I might need another before the night is out.”

  Obviously the feeling was mutual, but neither of them were to blame.

  “Have you heard the one about the two physiotherapists and the two ex-servicemen?” Blake asked.

  “No.”

  “Me neither, but someone should write one for this occasion.”

  “I’m not a physiotherapist anyway,” Veronica replied.

  “Eh, you work there; it’s as good as,” Blake said with a grin.

  Neither of those two looked like they felt awkward, but still being in the early stages of their romance, they were inevitably a bit distracted by each other. Watching them whispering sweet nothings and silly jokes would prove unbearable if she and Marcus could find nothing to talk about, and Ashley feared she was lost for words, but thankfully it was Marcus who assured her that this would not be the case. Perhaps having already popped an erection in front of her meant there was no reason to feel shy anymore, but whatever the reason, it turned out that they were soon chatting quite freely together, and Ashley noticed a more laid-back and positive side to him that had not been obvious initially.

  Marcus began by asking her how her office had come to specialize in ex-servicemen, which had been as a result of the country’s crisis management in looking to manage the growing discontent surrounding the Iraq War.

  “I’d wanted to co-own my own practice somehow,” she explained, “but couldn’t get a business loan. That was until all the unpopularity and a few of us had the idea of teaming up to do something that would specialize; the bank was more willing to listen then because there was also a grant involved.”

  “So without the unpopularity you don’t think you would have got the loan?” Marcus asked.

  “Not at all. All government funding was geared to helping those with more obvious physical wounds and disabilities, but my co-owners are all about looking for the problems lurking beneath.”

  “I saw there was a psychologist’s office as well.”

  “Yes, we have two of those, and a chiropractor as well. None of which would have been able to run their own business otherwise.”

  “It’s nice to know something’s coming from the government, I guess,” Marcus said with a rueful grin.

  “Thank the general public,” she replied. “Without their outcry we wouldn’t be sitting round this table.”

  “And I wouldn’t have signed up for my first half-marathon,” Blake then interjected.

  Ashley smiled and shook her head. “I’ve told you,” she warned, “if you get injured like my last client who did that, I’m doubling my rates.’ (She had told him the same story.) “You soldier boys don’t know when to quit sometimes.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Veronica added. She kissed Blake, and Ashley turned back to Marcus for some more sophisticated conversation.

  “I think those two suit each other,” he said, smiling, but with raised eyebrows that showed he had the same reservations that she did.

  “I think they’re going to be a menace to society,” Ashley agreed.

  Very soon they were both laughing freely, and as they tucked into their fries and hot dogs, they talked about all kind of subjects, caring not that their two friends hardly looked to be involved unless it was to order more drinks. Ashley listened to all he had to tell about ‘that adorable Max’, as she called him, even though Marcus became paranoid at one point that he might be boring her with stories about his dog.

  “No, don’t worry, I love that hound,” she told him. “It will be a real downer on my day if ever you don’t bring him to the office.”

  “Ha! There’s no way,” he reassured her. “Twice now on walks I’ve had to stop him from dragging me down the wrong street because he’s hoping I’m going for therapy again.”

  “Oh, he’s such a darling!”

  Marcus winked. “I’ve told you, he knows instantly about people.”

  “I could have done with something like that in the past,” she said, accidentally thinking of Vince.

  “Why’s that? I can’t imagine you falling in with the wrong crowd. You’re so lovely.”

  Ashely blushed, unsure if he meant the compliment in a platonic way or not. “I, erm… didn’t choose my last boyfriend terribly well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. But I guess you’re older and wiser now, as they say.”

  Ashley smiled glumly. “Not much older—I had to take a restraining order out on him only last week.”

  “Christ,” Marcus said. “Hasn’t he got the message?”

  Seeing his reaction, just for a moment Ashley thought she saw his eyes light up with a fury that had been taught not to surface. This man was calm and reserved in nature, but there was still something of the soldier deep down that might jump into action if circumstance demanded. There was more to him than met the eye and the thought made her swoon a little. Never in her work had she become carried away about military men (that was Veronica’s territory), but a soldier who was also a
mystery and a contradiction…there was something different about that.

  Even a little enticing.

  Suddenly Ashley realized she was enjoying his company very much indeed and, perhaps because of the alcohol, had difficulty becoming convinced that him being a client mattered.

  I wonder if he’s attracted to me, she thought.

  Of course he is, the devil on her shoulder replied, you established that the first moment you met in the most irrefutable way. You are the one in control this time.

  Her perspective of the evening had taken a curious twist. Suddenly she was looking for reasons to resist him, her only get-out clause being that she doubted he would make an advance. He was too much of a gentleman and this wasn’t even an official date yet—plus he was probably still embarrassed about his tripod impression.

  Reassuring—or disappointing—as this might have been, it still proved the case that they didn’t care when Blake and Veronica left them. The excuse had been to visit the jukebox, but the two of them could still be seen in the distance, lingering with drinks in hand at a separate stall as if they had no intention of returning. Not that Ashley was in any rush to see them return or to go and join them. The turmoil of her last relationship had robbed her of the memory of what pleasant male company could actually be like, and now it had returned she felt like the biggest fool in America, but a happy fool at last.

  As it does when a person is content, the rest of the evening flew by. Ashley lost count of how much they drank and didn’t consider their smiles and laughter to feel like anything out of the ordinary, when suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of the bar bell.

  “Okay, my dearest customers,” a large man, who must have been the owner, announced while standing on the bar. “It’s that time of the evening, and we’ll see what tables get drawn out of the hat.”

  Ashley had no idea what was going on, but by paying attention she saw that various freebies were being given away. A voucher for a free meal, some free pints and a bottle of champagne. Then it came to a round of complimentary shots, and when the owner drew out the number 59, she realized that was their table.

  “I’m up for a shot, if you are,” Ashley said, feeling reckless, but there turned out to be a caveat. The offer was three shots each for free, but only if they were able to down them all—any less and they would have to pay.

  Marcus shrugged his shoulders, looking a little cautious, but Ashley sensed it was for her benefit. “You sure?” he asked.

  “What the hell, let’s do it,” she said with a smile.

  He grinned and nodded. After the first shot, Ashley felt okay. The second went fairly well, then the third was a bit too much. She felt very lightheaded at that point. Any more alcohol was definitely off the table, and partly because she wanted to and partly because it was a good way of convincing her body to remain upright, she grabbed Marcus by the hand and said, “Let’s go dance.”

  The first few songs on the dance floor were a bit of a blur, but at some point Ashley came round and found that she was dancing up close with Marcus to a slower number, her cheek pressed against his chest. Not wanting to stand up much longer, she looked up into his eyes, hoping that she did not look as drunk as she felt and asked “Is your place far from here?”

  Marcus shook his head and suggested they get a cab, saying he had no idea where their two friends had got to. Taking his hand, Ashley then allowed him to lead her outside, and although she couldn’t help think how Vince would squirm if he knew about this, she also knew it was more than that. Never mind her profession, she actually really liked this guy. He was exactly the calm and unassuming influence that had been missing from her life, and it was easy right then not to think on the consequences when they woke up in the morning.

  The wellbeing of her clients meant a lot to her, and so this one was getting a bit of extra special attention and, besides…she would also get to see that little cutie Max.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 7

  There was often something about seeing a friend more inebriated than we are that can sober up the mind. Marcus had certainly had a few drinks that night himself and the shots—which he had never quite figured out the identity of—brought back memories of the tequila he’d had a week previously. Despite this, however, by the time their cab was nearing his house, he felt alert and coordinated. By then Ashley’s head was leaning on his shoulder and he was pretty sure she was sound asleep.

  She had done a good job of appearing decisive and not ungraceful before the liquor took effect, but no doubt some of this had been a bit of a show. Seeing her like that brought to mind what she had told him about the restraining order against her ex. Obviously she had been through more than he had been aware, although his initial impression of her had been of someone who was organized and in control of her life. The thought of someone trying to harm her made him angry and protective; feelings he had avoided since his dishonorable discharge. He even pictured himself standing up to a foe again, refusing to back down and threatening consequences.

  Right then no such actions were required, however. Ashley needed friendly support, and if she was going to fix his knee, then helping her to unwind was the least he could do. The evening had been the best he had spent since he could remember, and certainly better than any times he’d had since leaving the military. Ashley might be embarrassed when waking up at his place, but it could hardly be as embarrassing as what had happened to him when they first met.

  He had to admit there was a definite undercurrent of sexual attraction between them…well, he was very attracted to her, anyway. Being so out of touch with the opposite sex, he truthfully had no idea whether she felt the same or was just enjoying his company, and whatever the truth was, he wasn’t about to presume any favorable interpretations—regardless that he could almost hear Blake crying out to tell him it was on. For his friend’s ruse in getting them together, he was unsure whether a slap or a kiss should have been his apt response, but he would probably let him get away with it.

  Feeling relatively sober proved ideal when it came to carrying Ashley out of the cab and into the house; she hadn’t stirred even a little when he tried to tell her that they had arrived. He was strong enough—his military days hadn’t been that long ago—but it helped to trust in his coordination so that he didn’t risk banging her head against the doorframe on the way in or scraping her backside over a load of the plant pots. He didn’t want her to wake up feeling like she had been in a fight as well as having drank too much.

  Once inside, Max was so impressed by who he had brought home that he even put his dish down in the hope of having a fuss.

  “Sorry, amigo,” Marcus told him. “She’s zonked out. You’ll have to wait till morning to get some pats from her.”

  After that, he took Ashley straight to the bedroom. There was only one bed made up in the house, so he would have to sleep on the couch. Marcus rested his unexpected guest’s head on his pillow, decided to do her the favor of removing her shoes, and then he left her there, looking sound asleep without making even the slightest snore.

  A few minutes later he had fed Max and went to find a spare blanket for himself. It took several minutes to fix a duvet blanket in place, and then he noticed that Max was nowhere to be seen. This was because his dog had climbed up on the bed alongside Ashley, even though his normal routine was to sleep on the bedroom floor.

  “You really do like her, don’t you, boy?” he said with a grin when he found him. “You trying to tell me something?”

  Max’s response was to turn his eyelids temporarily in Marcus’s direction, but otherwise indicated that he was settled for the night. His dog’s infatuation for the physiotherapist was genuinely baffling, considering he’d only met her twice, proving again just how good a judge of character he was.

  “Well, at least you’re facing the wrong way to be breathing dog food fumes into her face,” he said. Her perfect face, he added silently. “Goodnight then, I guess.”

  B
ut just before turning away to get some rest himself, Marcus noticed a mark he hadn’t seen before on Ashley’s neck, where the straps of her top had shifted slightly.

  “Where have I seen that before?” he mused quietly.

  A birthmark, he thought, but it looked like a star and was for some reason very familiar.

  Leering over her for much longer felt a bit creepy, however, so he resisted thinking any more deeply on the matter. He desperately needed sleep, and as soon as he found the couch, he was just as unconscious as Ashley, with all thoughts of birthmarks gone from his mind.

  Chapter 8

  Waking up, Ashley’s first assessment of the situation was that she did not wish to move her head. The only reason consciousness had returned was due to the light streaming through the window pane, otherwise her brain had been woken up far sooner than it was prepared for.

  Just another hour with my head on the pillow before I think about anything, she decided, but then realized that she was holding on to someone. What on earth…?

  This was not a development to be given another hour.

  She suddenly remembered the bar last night, and an alarming thought came to her that she had taken a client home and bedded him. Oh no. Waking up with a new lover, whether a long-term or temporary one, was something she was unused to, as was having had too much drink to recall what had taken place. Considering all she had been through with Vince, was it really wise to be jumping into bed with a new man so soon? Yes, Marcus seemed very nice and quite unlike her last boyfriend, but how much did she really know about him?

  Forcing her eyes open in spite of her heavy head, Ashley peered over to confirm what she had done only to be greeted by a sight that made even less sense. Either she had fallen in with a wolf shifter, or she had been asleep hugging a big German shepherd.

  The latter explanation took a few confusing moments to sink in, but was of course the more desirable outcome.

  “Max! How did you get here?” she exclaimed, before looking up properly and clueing on that she hadn’t made it home at all. Clearly she was at Marcus’s place, but she was fully clothed, except for her shoes, and sporting the same low-cut top that her devious assistant had talked her into—clearly planning something like this all along.