Robin raised one brow at such plain speaking. But bears would be bears. “I don’t think Gordon is miserable.” She held out her left hand where his opal flashed fire. “I am wearing his ring.”
“Time you two were married. Sets a bad example to Mystic Bay to have the mayor and deputy mayor shacked up together.”
“I’ll thank you to lower your voice, Ursula.” Robin leaned forward so her words would carry only to her friend. “As it happens, Gordon has persuaded me to set a date and plan a celebration.”
“Oh, yes?” Ursula was skeptical. “Will I live to see that day?”
Robin whispered the date. “Gordon has promised me sunshine and mild breezes.”
“In March?” Ursula chuckled. “You could make the arrangements by snapping your fingers. Why the delay?”
“At our age, we know that anticipation is a large part of happiness.”
“Hmph. And speaking of anticipation, can we count on the council to approve that land transfer to those kids?”
“Certainly. We think that it would even be in order for the happy couple to extend the cabin or build a second wing – whatever they need.”
“Mitch tells me he’s taking Zoë over to the Lodge for their honeymoon. I hope you folks aren’t going to hold that against him?”
Robin laughed. “The Lodge isn’t as luxurious as my inn, but after two weeks on Bear Lookout, Zoë will think it is. I can see why Capt. Reynolds didn’t want to honeymoon in the same establishment as his family.”
“I was referring to the thirty-day residency requirement,” Ursula said dryly.
“They aren’t leaving the island. Or shutting up the cabin. And it counts as residency if you have your contractors working in your absence.”
“I knew that boy had a head on his shoulders.” Ursula tipped her head back and smiled. “How are you, Sully?”
“I’m well, Ursula.” He kissed her cheek gently. “I’m going to steal my fiancée.” He took Robin’s hand and whirled her out amongst the dancers.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Mitchell~
Zoë’s head was bent over her laptop. Sunlight flooded the sitting room through the snug new windows and fell just short of her screen. She was engaged in preparing this month’s announcements for her online magazine, The Mystic Bay Town Crier.
A low chortle from the baby’s room indicated that Oscar was no longer asleep.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“Thanks. I’m almost done. Oscar’s squash is in the microwave.”
“Okay.” He moved toward the nursery.
“Can I tell them that the mayor will open the Stickney Reynolds Boatyard this month?” Zoë asked. “I need something to create a little buzz.”
“Better find something else, honey. Howard wants to make an official announcement himself.” Mitchell stepped briskly.
Little Oscar had just learned to sit up. Mitchell thought he was outgrowing one of his morning naps. His son’s chortling got louder. Mitchell moved faster.
He flipped on the bedroom light and stared down in horror at the baby. A small cinnamon-colored cub bounced against the bars of his crib and continued to chortle playfully. He held his fuzzy arms out to Mitchell.
“You know you’re not allowed to do this, don’t you?” he admonished the baby.
Oscar rubbed his muzzle against Mitchell’s shirt and pawed it for good measure. He moaned softly. “Mom isn’t going to like this.” The cub didn’t seem to care.
Juggling a baby with razor-sharp claws and needle-sharp teeth took some doing. Mitchell carried him carefully out to the sitting room. “Sweetheart,” he said. “We seem to have a situation.”
Zoë looked up. “Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you about that. Looks like Emily was wrong.”
<<<<>>>>
Coming Jan 14, 2019
WEDDED TO THE WOLF
Now in Pre-orders
A SHIFTERS IN LOVE
FUN & FLIRTY ROMANCE
Mystic Bay Series Book 7
by
Isadora Montrose
When BBW mermaid Justine confronts the werewolf who’s been sleeping in her front yard she sets off an unstoppable explosion of small-town gossip.
Lone wolf Drew just wants a quiet life. He’s drawn to this curvy siren, but watching her house is just part of his job.
Try telling that to Justine’s father the mer-king. King Roger demands that Drew mend Justine’s reputation with a wedding ring.
Drew is slated to be the next alpha of his pack, a job he doesn’t want. Could marriage to a curvy mermaid be just the ticket to get the First Wolf off Drew’s neck?
There are a few problems with the mer-king’s plan: Justine is sort-of married. She doesn’t want to turn into a hairy she-wolf. And although she lusts for former Marine Drew, she’s holding out for true love the second time around.
Keep reading for the first 3 chapters of Wedded to the Wolf.
CHAPTER ONE
Justine~
Up until a month ago, this storefront had been a palmist’s reading room. The new blinds were drawn against the morning sun, but they had been designed to keep out sun, not prying eyes. Justine Merryman could see right through the mesh.
Feral eyes gazed unblinkingly back at her. The tall, lean man who owned them lounged behind the reception desk.
Justine swallowed hard and went inside.
Gray filing cabinets marched along one wall, although Wolfmann Investigative Services had not been in business long enough to fill one drawer, let alone a bank of filing cabinets. Empty chairs faced the empty filing cabinets.
Drew Wolfmann took his feet off the reception desk and sat up straight. “Good morning.” His voice sounded rusty. His golden eyes were narrowed, suspicious.
It had taken all her courage to come here. But now that she was facing him, Wolfmann seemed unduly large and broad. And his predatory eyes were examining her as if he planned to pounce. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and debated whether she should just go to the sheriff.
There was nothing scary about Sheriff Babcock. And he was Wolfmann’s boss. In addition to doing some construction work, and opening this office, Drew Wolfmann was one of Mystic Bay’s part-time deputy sheriffs. If Walter Babcock told him to keep away from Justine, he’d have to. Even if the sheriff was a rabbit shifter.
Wolfmann rose to his feet. He was well over six-foot. Justine was tall for a woman, but he towered over her. She took an involuntary step backward.
The corners of his mouth tightened. But his voice was level when he spoke. “If it’s private, we can go in my office,” he waved a large hand toward the door set into the back wall.
Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.
“It’s not that private,” she said. “I just want to know what the heck you’re doing spying on me?”
A dull wash of crimson rose from the open collar of his blue sports shirt all the way to his thick dark hair. “You spotted me?” he asked.
“You’ve been lurking in wolf outside my cottage for more than a week,” she yelped. “Of course, I’ve spotted you.”
It might have been more accurate to say that she had smelled him under the rose bushes and in the hollow under the cedars. But she had no intention of admitting any such primitive faculties. Or how potent she had found his scent. She had made one mating error. Next time she would stick to her own kind.
“Sheriff’s orders,” he said.
Justine looked over her shoulder. The street outside held the usual number of Mystic Bay residents, taking the usual number of discreet peeks at Wolfmann’s windows. Hope Greene waved at her. Hope was probably on her way to the Bean and Bran. Gossip central. Justine’s visit to Wolfmann would be all over town in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.
“Maybe we should go into your office,” she said.
He nodded crisply and led the way. His office was as functional as the outer room. A single desk adorned with a laptop. A big leather desk chair and two large armchairs that l
ooked like they would swallow her whole. A framed photograph of what appeared to be every wolf in his pack. Wolfmann closed the door and sat down at his desk.
“Have a seat.” He waved at the chairs in front of the desk.
She sat down gingerly. Tried and failed to relax her death grip on her purse. “You were going to explain why you are stalking me.”
He winced. “I am not stalking you. Sheriff Babcock assigned me to watch for your ex. I’ve been watching your house in my capacity as deputy sheriff.”
“My cousins threw Chris off West Haven months ago,” she shot back. “Fifteen months to be exact. There is nothing to watch for.”
“I know. But Hill’s disappeared. Again.” He shrugged. “It seemed likely that he might seek refuge with his,” he paused fractionally, “Wife.”
“He’s an even bigger fool than I thought, if he believes I would give him the time of day, let alone a bolthole.”
Those sensual masculine lips tightened again. He nodded. “We thought he might be desperate enough to try his luck a second time. The sheriff figured it was worth our time – my time – to keep an eye out for him.”
“Not a chance. He’s not on West Haven. The harbor master, is watching out for him. Whether he shows up on the ferry, or in his own vessel, my people will take care of him.” At least she sincerely hoped so.
“That’s exactly what we’re afraid of,” Wolfmann held up a hand when she would have spoken. “Hill has jumped bail. He’s a wanted man. With all due respect to the mer-king, Princess, legitimate law enforcement has first dibs on your ex.”
Whereas every merman in Mystic Bay was ready to break Chris’ legs on sight. Her ex had escaped with a thumping last time, but her cousins and her brother-in-law would not be content with blackening his eyes if he bothered her ever again. She didn’t comment however. She so wasn’t going there.
“I’m not a princess,” she protested instead.
“Your daddy’s the mer-king, no?”
“He is.”
“Doesn’t that make you Princess Justine?” His voice was a husky rumble. A fog of something masculine emanated from him.
“This is America. No princesses allowed.” She tried to smile.
It was a sore spot. Christopher Hill had pursued her in the mistaken belief that she was in line to inherit the treasure of the sea king. As if.
Mom and Dad owned and operated the Crab Hut, a restaurant that had become a Mystic Bay institution. They made a pretty good living. She worked there too. For a reasonable, but far from princely salary.
Drew didn’t return her smile. “This is an island. There are more bays and beaches where a determined man could come ashore than there are stars in the sky.”
“Not quite that many.” And if he did, the mer-patrol would spot him.
“The sheriff is afraid that Hill may sneak onto the island and make his way to your cottage.” Wide shoulders rotated under the blue broadcloth of his shirt. “It’s for your own safety,” he concluded.
As if this werewolf’s presence didn’t threaten her peace of mind worse than Chris. And her reputation.
“What did he do?” she asked. “To need bail for, I mean?”
Wolfmann’s dark brows rose, but he answered her without a blink. “Embezzlement.”
She certainly knew how to pick a winner. “Nobody prosecutes white-collar crime. And if they get that far, the courts just give embezzlers a slap on the wrist.”
There was that feral smile again. “The rules change when you rip off shifters.”
CHAPTER TWO
Drew~
Justine’s eyes were the color of the sea. Sometimes blue, sometimes green. Right now they were a sort of stormy gray. “What do you mean, Chris ripped off shifters?”
“I mean hunters,” he said flatly. He used the derogatory term deliberately. On West Haven, predatory shifters like wolves and bears were definitely second-class citizens. He might as well use Justine Merryman’s prejudices to reinforce the seriousness of her ex’s situation.
Those stormy eyes widened. Her scent changed subtly. Her death grip on her purse increased. He was a wolf and a trained private eye. He deduced that he had ramped up her distress. Nice going, Wolfmann.
“Hunters?” she squeaked.
“Hill stole from grizzlies.” Drew shrugged. “It’s a family-held company. They bear grudges, and they don’t let insults pass. Pun intended.”
“Dear heaven.” She thought in silence while he counted sheep.
You’d think that after six months in Mystic Bay, his response to Justine Merryman would have simmered down. For one thing, despite her beauty, she was more than a little too repressed for his frankly uncivilized tastes.
She kept what he assumed was a lush head of streaky pastel hair like other mermaids’, screwed up in a tight, spinsterish bun. Unfortunately, she did not smell dried up and desiccated. Quite the contrary. One whiff of this mermaid and he had been ready to howl at the moon and bite her on the nape.
As if he didn’t have enough troubles with his pack. Sure, werewolves sometimes married non-wolves. Sure, they could transform their mates into werewolves. But the future Alpha of the Portland Pack was supposed to marry one of his own kind.
Not that he wanted to be Alpha. Not that he was acting like the heir apparent. Not that he intended to give in to First Wolf. But it would make everything a million times harder if he acted on his attraction to a mermaid. Sprung a mermaid bride on his pack.
No matter if Justine smelled of something rich and mysterious, he should keep in mind how badly being lured by sirens ended for the lured.
Justine was a statuesque woman. Tall, long limbed, and curvaceous. She looked like a woman who should smile all the time, but except for that fake beam she issued when she was working the front of house at the Crab Hut, her lips were always set in a downward curve.
Her sisters were more light-hearted. Serena had married his best buddy on the island. Anton Benoit was one lucky son of a bear. Young Charlotte was even more carefree, although after his mistake with Felicity Sullivan*, he was staying well away from curvy teenagers.
He wished she hadn’t pursued him to his lair. She made him want to use his desk for something besides shuffling paper. Everything masculine in him wanted to ease the tension in her deep-bosomed body, and see her flushed, tousled, and relaxed. Down boy.
“So you’re saying those grizzlies are taking the law into their own hands?” she broke into his fantasies. “Hunting Chris?”
He crashed back to Planet Earth. He might have known she would misinterpret what he had said. “No. Our clients pressed charges, Hill got bail, and skipped town. Missed his day in court. He’s wanted by regular law enforcement. And his employers have hired people to help the authorities look for him. They aren’t actually in hot pursuit themselves.”
“Oh. Pity. But he has the cops, wolves and mermen looking for him? Right?” Who would have thought so soft and sweet a pair of lips could utter words that harsh with such utter satisfaction? Justine was one pissed-off female.
“That’s about the size of it,” Drew said. “And while embezzlement doesn’t get law enforcement riled up, skipping bail does.”
“Okay. But you tell Wally Babcock to assign a different deputy to watch my house.”
That hurt. He had been careful not to be seen by the neighbors. And he had been as vigilant as if she were his mate instead of a fool’s dream. “I don’t see how that will work,” Drew explained apologetically. “If he puts one of the others on this job, he’ll have to pay them.”
“You’re watching my house for free?” Her voice rose in outrage. Good thing this room was soundproofed.
“Not exactly. Sheriff Babcock knows I already have a client and that I will work this case without pay.”
“Another client?”
“The aforementioned grizzlies.”
“And the sheriff is cool with that?”
“Sure. I know our arrangement wouldn’t fly in the big city. But let’
s face it, here in Mystic Bay the police department is tiny and even in high season I didn’t get enough hours to live on. I’m expected to have another job. I understand that when he was a deputy, the sheriff was a security guard at the Tidewater Inn*.”
She nodded. “He was.”
Drew made a decision and fed her a scrap more information. “I was originally assigned to Mystic Bay by my family’s law firm. I used to work for the investigative department. They retained me to locate Hill last spring. And again for this operation. The clients still want your ex’s hide.”
“That would be Wolfmann, Wolfmann, and Drake?”
“It would.”
“I thought that was a law firm.”
“They are.” The family firm was old and the go-to attorneys for Pacific Northwest shifters. “Lawyers often need PIs. Wolfmann, Wolfmann, and Drake prefer to use in-house people.”
“Huh.” She buried her face in her hands. Her plump shoulders shook. Was she crying? “There’s going to be talk.” Her words were muffled, but he didn’t detect tears in her voice. More like fury.
“Mystic Bay is a small town.” As he knew to his cost.
It didn’t seem to matter that seventeen-year-old Felicity Sullivan had lied about her age, and that as a stranger he had no way of knowing she was just a kid. She sure looked far older.
One date, aborted as soon as he found out how young Felicity was, and he was now considered abig bad wolf. In every sense of the word. The gossips of Mystic Bay had had a field day with his supposed attempt at seduction. Justine was understandably concerned for her reputation.
Her head came up. Those curvy shoulders straightened. “We’ll tell people you’re working for me.”
“Huh?”
“I came in here to ask you to trace Chris so I can serve him with divorce papers.”
“Huh?”
“It’s past time that I filed for divorce. We’ll say that my lawyers suggested that we begin by tracing Chris.”
He swallowed hard. He felt a little lightheaded. “You want me to work for you?”
Bedded by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 6) Page 18