Page 12 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Bastien

“You’re lucky there aren’t any other butchers in town. I swear, I’d never come back here otherwise. Fucking ridiculous,” Gunther complained as he stomped out the door.

Bastien scoffed, rolling his eyes hard enough to make his head ache.

They’d spent the better part of the last hour arguing after Gunther had shown up demanding they process some roadkill.

Bas could see the roadkill in question, in the bed of Gunther’s truck that was backed into a spot out front.

Not a soul on this planet would believe the back-half of the elk sitting out there was hit by any kind of vehicle.

When Gunther claimed to have ‘misplaced’ his salvage permit, Bas had seen red.

Hal happened to walk out of his office just in time to keep the yelling one sided.

Gunther spun some story about a friend calling him after smoking the animal on the highway and since this friend didn’t have a permit, Gunther, white-knight he was, had gone out of his way to help. Only, it seemed he had misplaced his own permit.

Hal reiterated that without seeing the paper, his hands were tied and there was nothing he could do. He suggested Gunther go ‘dig around’ for his permit and maybe encourage his friend to apply for his own.

“That’s not roadkill,” Bas growled, as the pick-up squealed down the road.

“No. No, it ain’t,” Hal confirmed.

Unfortunately, they had no way to prove Gunther’s friend had poached this animal—if there even was a ‘friend.’ The best they could do was to send him away, call Game and Fish and hope Gunther was still in possession of the evidence when they got around to investigating.

“I hate it,” Bas mumbled, his thoughts tumbling into memories of the woods and the smell of blood.

“You and I both, son.” Hal placed a hand on his apprentice’s shoulder, unaware of exactly how badly he needed the comfort in that moment.

“Listen, not to further dampen the mood or anything, but I’ve been talking to Hattie.

I’m retiring, officially, next spring. I’m hoping to sell out in January or so… ”

“Boss,” Bas croaked.

“I want you to take over, son. I don’t want to sell to some stranger, just to have them come in here and ruin everything we’ve built—and don’t argue with me, because you know just as well as I do that business has only gotten better since your sorry ass came in my front door.

I want you here and I’m willing to break a hell of a deal for you to buy me out.

If I had millions in the bank, I would just give it to you, but I can’t very well spoil Hattie on social security alone, you understand. ”

Bastien rolled his neck, running a hand over his beard as he processed everything Hal just told him. His worst nightmare and biggest dream both dancing hand in hand in front of him.

“I don’t expect an answer from you right now. You think on it, and we can talk logistics and all that later.”

Bastien nodded absently, and Hal gently squeezed his shoulder once before stepping away.

“Now, you go take a break. Go look for your girl at the coffee shop or something. Just bring me back a sandwich!”

“What?!” Bastien gaped back at the man and felt his face flush.

“Oh, come on now. I’m seventy-three—old, not blind.

You’ve been antsy and practically running off at lunch and then moping the rest of the day.

Nothing less than a woman could do that, in my experience.

” Hal stopped, cocked his head to the side and squinted at Bas.

“Or a man? I’m not here to judge one way or another, just as long as you’re happy. ”

Hal shrugged as Bastien continued to flounder, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. The old man let out a deep belly laugh, using both hands on Bastien’s shoulders to steer him toward the front door.

Instead of walking to The Glass, Bas turned left, crossing the street and meandering down the sidewalk.

He only realized where he was headed when he stopped in front of Sew It Seems. This storefront would line up with the loft in the alley, the shops on either side being a one-story soap maker and a two-story wine and cheese business that advertised their second floor as a venue for wine tastings and parties.

Bas thought back to his conversation with Hal.

This was his seamstress. What had he said her name was?

The curtains were drawn and the sign on the front door read ‘CLOSED’.

Bastien would have assumed this meant she was not open on Fridays, if not for the hours that were posted on the window to his right which clearly stated otherwise.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he continued down the sidewalk toward the cemetery.

March was spring as far as the lower states were concerned, but this far north, it was still winter. All the trees were still in hibernation, the grass dead and dry.

Bastien flipped up the collar of his jacket as the wind picked up. Even with the sun bearing down and zero clouds in the sky, the brisk mountain wind could cut to the bone and drag every ounce of heat right out of you.

Bas turned the corner and was only a foot from the mouth of the alley when a brown blur zipped past him, almost knocking him on his ass.

He froze, arms raised to defend himself, as he watched a deer run a serpentine line across the empty road and through the large iron gate into the graveyard.

It took ten seconds and just as many blinks before his brain caught up.

“Shit.”

Without wasting any more time, Bastien sprinted after the doe, eyes darting everywhere trying to catch a glimpse of where she’d gone while he buffered.

He only prayed she hadn’t gone too far. Finding her in his current form was likely to go over far better than chasing her down as a wolf, but a deer could run laps around a human.

Something told him that, while his sense of smell and ability to track was exponentially better shifted, if this woman looked over her shoulder and saw a wolf loping toward her, she would kick it into high gear and bolt.

Weeks of sitting together at night be damned, she would take one look at his predator body and the prey instincts would take over—she was already in flight mode.

Bastien slowed when he was side-by-side with the marble angel, straining his ears and spinning in a slow circle.

A flash of movement had him moving again, and he just caught sight of her tail slipping around the corner of his favorite reading nook.

The pines that surrounded the cemetery were dense and the midday sun cast odd shadows from the towering branches, narrow gaps between the tree trunks and the foliage, still dead from winter, created a perfect camouflage for a small brown body.

“Please!” Bas called out desperately. “Please, wait!”

He stopped again and scanned the woods with the mausoleum at his back, praying she was close enough to hear. A twig snapped just ahead and he threw his hands up, crouching down to make himself seem as non-threatening as possible.

“Please, I’m not here to hurt you.” He took a few tentative steps forward. “You’re…You’re Syve, aren’t you?”