Page 2 of Howling Mad (Romance Expected Dating Service #1)

I do my best to keep my face neutral, clearing my throat before asking, “Unusual how?”

She shoots me a mischievous look. “You’ll find out, but let’s not scare you off too soon.”

Her office is a cheerful explosion of color. A shelf behind her desk brims with figurines of red pandas in various poses. Some are cartoonish, some carved from wood, and others are porcelain. One is clear crystal with red gem accents, and it dominates her collection, arranged to be the centerpiece.

On the opposite wall, a huge bulletin board features more Polaroids pinned in neat rows, each labeled with a name and date.

Some have hearts or stars drawn around them with the words SUCCESSFUL MATCH in pink marker across the top.

She waves an arm at the comfy armchair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

I set my fresh résumé on her desk and smooth my skirt. The aroma of vanilla and something faintly fruity wafts around me, likely her perfume. I straighten my posture as though expecting my mother to chastise me for slouching.

“I appreciate the opportunity. I’ve worked in HR before, so I’m used to dealing with personalities.”

She skims through my résumé with a thoughtful hum.

“You have a decent administrative background and also some psych credits in college. That can help. We’re a small operation, but we have a big client list.” She sets aside the pages.

“Before we dig too deeply, why don’t you tell me why you want to work at a dating service?

It’s not a typical career for someone from your background. ”

My stomach twists. She sounds genuinely curious, not accusatory. “I… I just moved here. My father’s the gamma of a very traditional wolf pack, and I didn’t quite fit in. My parents love me, but they have a strong idea of how I should be living my life.”

Her eyes gleam with humor. “They want to marry you off to the biggest, baddest alpha in the region?”

A snort escapes me. “You have no idea.” I realize how that must sound. “Apologies if that’s too candid, but I’m a bit worn out by it all. Twelve different matches in three months can do that, and my mother’s unstoppable.”

Red leans forward, resting her chin on her hand as her grin widens. “Twelve in three months? That’s a record. I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

I laugh huskily. “I moved to the city because the constant attempts were getting out of hand. This job popped up in my search, and I thought, maybe I can do something interesting, maybe help others in a more constructive way than forced blind dates.” And the salary is enough to cover my rent, though I’ll still need a roommate.

I don’t say that out loud since sounding desperate might not make the right impression

Her expression softens. “That’s exactly the vibe we need here. Our clients are mostly shifters, some of whom don’t fit the mold. They need a place where they can find companionship without the usual judgments. That’s what we do.”

I glance around at the playful décor. The idea of working in a space that respects individuality sounds promising. “That’s refreshing.”

She hops up from her chair with abrupt energy. “Give me one sec. I have a file up top I want to show you.”

She strides to a tall bookshelf, her eyes scanning the top row.

Without warning, she shifts. Her shape condenses, her face morphs, and bright auburn fur replaces human skin from her neck down.

She’s a red panda like I thought, being small but dexterous.

Claws extend so she can climb the wooden shelves as though they’re tree branches, and she rummages on the highest shelf.

That transformation is fluid, quick, and it leaves me gaping.

A triumphant squeak emerges from her. She shifts back in mid-climb, turning halfway into her human form, enough to hook her arm around a ledge and stretch to grab a manila folder.

Then she drops lightly to the floor, returning to full human shape before my wide eyes.

I imagine that’s why she’s wearing a loosely flowing caftan, so she doesn’t shift and ruin her clothes.

She waves the folder. “I keep telling myself to buy a step stool, but my shifter form is way more fun.”

The display of agility stuns me for a moment. It’s not that I haven’t seen others shift since my entire hometown is all wolves. Seeing a red panda shift in the middle of an office is a new experience, though, and I grin. “That’s definitely one approach.”

She sets the folder on the desk. “Now, you see, this is a shifter-run business. We specialize in matching folks from different species or from families that don’t accept them.

” Her expression grows thoughtful. “You might be perfect here. Your background with pushy pack traditions… You’ll empathize with a lot of our clients. ”

I certainly have experience with that. “Thank you for saying that. I worried that my complicated relationship with my pack would be a negative.”

She frowns with mock seriousness. “Why hide it? This is your superpower. Clients who come here often have been told their entire lives they don’t measure up. They need someone who can see past the stereotypes, and you know what that’s like.”

My heart beats faster. “I do. That’s a big reason I want to help.”

She taps her fingers on the manila folder, her eyes crinkling with delight.

“So, about your résumé… I’m not actually sure I need it.

What I need is a staff member who cares about weird, wonderful shifters and wants to pair them up, drama and all.

Anyone can learn the forms, the scheduling, and the phone calls. You can’t teach empathy for misfits.”

A jitter of excitement seizes my stomach. “That’s me, in a nutshell.”

She folds her hands. “I have a sense about people, especially fellow shifters. My sense says you’ll fit right in. Let’s make it official?”

My mouth drops. “You’re offering me the job?”

She laughs, leaning her hip against the desk. “Is that so surprising? I like you, Finley, and I follow my instincts. You’re honest, plus you have direct experience escaping matchmaking nightmares. That’s priceless insight around here.”

I bob my head in a dazed nod as relief floods my chest, mingling with cautious optimism. “I’d love to accept.”

She nods enthusiastically, practically vibrating with energy.

“Fantastic. Let’s not stand on ceremony.

” She whips open the folder. “We have some internal documents. Think of them as guidelines for how we operate, and I’ll give you a crash course in client intake this week.

After that, you’ll shadow me for a while. ”

I can’t contain the slow grin crawling across my face. “That sounds amazing. I promise to do my best.”

Her lips quirk in a conspiratorial smile. “We’re a small operation, so be prepared to do everything from data entry to soothing meltdown-prone customers. Also, some species have complicated mating rituals. We also do group therapy sessions sometimes.”

I recall the times my pack insisted on old traditions—long hunts in the freezing cold and howling ceremonies at dawn—and feel a pang of empathy. I’ve always loathed hunting and much prefer a warm bed when the sun is just rising. “I’m used to complicated,” I say. “No worries there.”

She nods. “Good. We can also discuss benefits, but I can see from your expression that your mind is halfway out the door, thinking about how to escape your mom’s next phone call.”

That genuine observation cracks my composure. “She has been relentless lately. This is her new mission apparently.”

Her eyes gleam with humor. “That might come in handy. We can do a marketing campaign. ‘Romance Expected is recommended by pushy mothers everywhere.’”

I laugh, and it reverberates off the bright walls. “I’d pay to see that ad.”

She plants her hands on her hips, still chuckling. “We’re done here, but before you go, do me one favor and stop apologizing for being you. My guess? You’re going to excel.”

The sincerity in her words wraps around my heart, soothing the remnants of self-doubt. “Thank you, Red. Really.”

She hands me a few forms with a swirl of her pen. “Fill these out at home and bring them tomorrow morning for your official first day. Deal?”

I nod with enthusiasm. We shake hands, though it’s more of a gleeful clasp than a formal greeting.

On the way out, a brief wave of dizziness hits me at the realization of how quickly this has all happened. Hired on the spot, so maybe I’m one step closer to forging a life that’s mine alone.

The cool air in the hallway revives me when I descend the stairs, forms clutched to my chest and buzzing with cautious anticipation.

My phone vibrates in my purse, probably another message from Mom, and I consider answering but decide to let it go for now.

I breathe in, imagining how it’ll feel to call her tonight and mention I have a new job.

Maybe that’ll keep her from meddling in my love life for a few days. Doubtful, though.

Outside, the city greets me with its bustle as I grin and laugh out loud, earning a strange look from a man passing by.

He increases his pace as though worried I might leap on him and…

what? Tickle him into laughing, too? The thought makes me laugh harder, though it’s purely an adrenaline rush mixed with relief.

This is my new beginning. I’m free from that suffocating feeling of being penned in by family expectations. My new boss is a red panda who climbs bookshelves and runs a dating service for shifters who don’t fit conventional molds. That’s exactly the kind of quirky place I need.

My phone buzzes again, so I relent and pull it out. Sure enough, a text from Mom: Don’t forget to call about your date with the alpha’s son. We set dinner reservations for tomorrow since you were adamant tonight won’t work.

I clench my teeth. Part of me wants to fling the phone into traffic, and another part imagines an alternative scenario as I calmly tell her I’m forging my own path. This new job is exactly the ammunition I need to prove I won’t be roped into arranged matches.

I gather my courage and text back: Sorry, can’t. I just got a new job at a dating agency. Will find my own mate, thanks.

The whoosh of the sent message is oddly cathartic. Let her process that.

A wave of hunger reminds me that the burned eggs aren’t enough to keep me fueled.

A glance at my watch shows I have time to treat myself to a celebratory meal.

The corner café beckons, so I slip inside, ordering a wrap and a fresh coffee.

The moment the first savory bite hits my tongue, relief and excitement combine in my bloodstream.

Yes, the city has its challenges, and I still have boxes to unpack. My parents are probably drafting a meltdown response, but I can handle it. This place, for all its unknowns, feels more like home than any pack gathering I’ve ever attended.

A small corner table opens up, and I slide into the seat, letting the coffee’s steam warm my face.

I try to imagine what tomorrow brings. I see me, behind the desk at Romance Expected, meeting clients, asking them about their hopes, their heartbreaks, their fur color, and their shifting quirks.

Possibly digging into the reasons they haven’t found acceptance in standard pack or clan structures. My heart clenches with empathy.

I get it. Being the odd one out feels like an endless uphill climb.

My parents never outright rejected me, but they loaded me with constant suggestions to fix what they saw as flaws.

“Why don’t you run more? Train your wolf.

Grow your hair out so you look more feminine.

Don’t speak so brashly.” Even now, my mother acts like I must be incompetent to find my own partner.

Tomorrow is an official chance to prove I can do more than submit to those forced setups and be more than the inferior wolf they see.

After finishing the wrap, I toss the trash, grin at the barista, and step back into the bright day.

There’s an upbeat bounce to my walk. Everyone’s trying to match me up, but I’ll do the matching from here on out.

That small irony makes me laugh out loud as I push open the door to my apartment building.

In the elevator, I stare at the stack of forms Red gave me.

The print is friendly, peppered with silly disclaimers about “possible mid-date partial transformations” and “privacy regarding species-specific cultural rituals.” My grin widens.

This is so far from any job I’ve had. It’s a bold new world of romance for shifters who want something different.

It’s perfect for me because I need something different.

It’s a match made in heaven. The pun makes me chuckle to myself, but this time, no one is around to give me a funny look.