Page 9 of Paws and Claws (Saltwater Grove Romances #4)

9

DOMINIC

D ominic crossed his arms, staring down at Tabitha as she straddled her motorcycle. "No way are we taking that death trap to follow Bruce. He knows your bike."

"Come on. What if we need a quick getaway?"

"The point is to not be noticed," he contested. "We'll follow on foot. And you need to cover up that hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Tabitha flipped her dark purple locks defiantly.

"Nothing. But it screams 'Here I am' from a mile away."

"Fine." She revved her engine. "But I'm not wearing anything dorky."

"Just a baseball cap. And normal clothes. No leather."

"You're taking all the fun out of being sneaky." She pointed at his uniform. "What about you, Officer Fashion Police?"

"I'll change into civilian clothes." The words felt strange in his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn anything other than his uniform.

"Meet you at nine behind the station?"

"Eight-thirty. And don't be late."

Tabitha zoomed off, leaving him in a cloud of exhaust. Dominic checked his watch - plenty of time to go home and find something inconspicuous to wear.

Later that night, Dominic paced behind the station, checking his watch again. 8:45. Of course she was late.

"Miss me?"

He turned to find Tabitha in jeans and a t-shirt, her purple hair tucked under a baseball cap in a ponytail. Something in his chest tightened. Without her usual makeup and leather, she looked... sweet. Almost innocent. Which was ridiculous because she was anything but.

"You're late," he growled, trying to ignore how the moonlight caught her eyes.

"Fashion emergency. These normal clothes are harder to coordinate than you'd think." She tugged at the cap. "I feel like a soccer mom."

"You look fine." More than fine, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "Now get down, Bruce usually leaves around nine."

They crouched behind some bushes. Tabitha's shoulder pressed against his arm, warm even through his henley. The scent of her shampoo - something floral and spicy - drifted up to him.

"There he is," she whispered.

Bruce emerged from the station, got in his car, and drove off. They followed at a distance, staying in the shadows.

"The grocery store? Seriously?" Tabitha muttered an hour later as they watched Bruce examining produce. "I was hoping for something more sinister than picking out tomatoes."

"Patience," Dominic said, though he shared her frustration.

They tailed Bruce home, where he did nothing more suspicious than watch TV through his front window before turning in for the night.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Tabitha sighed.

Dominic walked beside Tabitha as they soon approached her house, his long strides matching her shorter ones. The night air carried the scent of jasmine from her neighbor's garden, mixing with her own unique fragrance that he'd grown oddly accustomed to over the past few hours.

"We'll try again tomorrow," he said, stopping at her front porch. "Bruce has to slip up eventually."

"Sure you don't want to come in for coffee?" Tabitha's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I promise not to corrupt you too much."

"Goodnight, Tabitha." He kept his voice stern, though his lips twitched.

She shrugged and bounded up the steps. "Your loss, Sheriff."

Something in his chest tightened as he watched her disappear inside. The evening suddenly felt empty without her constant commentary and challenging remarks. He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was ridiculous - she was a troublemaker, nothing more.

The next two days followed a similar pattern. They tracked Bruce through his mundane routines, crouching behind bushes and ducking around corners. Nothing suspicious emerged.

"You're breathing too loud," Tabitha whispered on their second afternoon, crouched behind a newspaper stand.

"I am not." His jaw clenched. "You're the one who keeps fidgeting."

"Well, maybe if someone hadn't insisted on being directly in the sun for the past hour-"

"Because that's where we have the best view-"

"Of what? Bruce buying his fifth cup of coffee?"

"At least I'm being professional about this."

Their voices rose steadily until Bruce glanced in their direction. Dominic yanked Tabitha further down just in time.

His heart pounded, partly from the near miss and partly from their proximity. Their faces were mere inches apart, her breath warm against his neck.

"That was close," she whispered.

"Too close." He stood up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Since when did he lose his cool so easily? Fifteen years on the force and this witch had him acting like a rookie.

But there was something about her that got under his skin. She wasn't afraid to push back when he got too rigid and to call him out when he was being unreasonable. It was infuriating and... refreshing.

Dominic watched Bruce disappear into The Watering Hole later that night. The neon sign flickered against the darkening sky, its "Humans Only" subtext making his lion bristle beneath his skin.

"Ready to play pretend?" Tabitha's voice held an edge of challenge.

"Let's get this over with." He reached for the door, but she caught his arm.

"You look like you're about to arrest someone." She poked his chest. "Relax those shoulders. And try smiling for once."

Before he could respond, she grabbed his hand. Her fingers threaded through his, small and warm against his palm. His pulse jumped traitorously.

As they walked through the door, the bar assaulted his senses. Cigarette smoke mixed with cheap beer and greasy food. Bodies pressed together as music thumped through speakers. His enhanced hearing picked up snippets of conversation, most of them disparaging remarks about "those creatures."

Tabitha squeezed his hand. "Easy there, big guy. Your eyes are starting to glow."

He forced himself to breathe. To appear human. To ignore the urge to show these bigots exactly what kind of "creature" they were insulting.

"Dance with me," Tabitha said suddenly.

"What? No."

"Yes. We need to look natural." She tugged him toward the dance floor. "When was the last time you actually had any fun?"

"I have plenty of fun," he muttered, letting her lead him into the crowd.

"Paperwork doesn't count."

She turned around and faced him, still holding his hand as she swayed to the music. Her other hand settled on his chest, and his free hand automatically found her waist.

"See? Not so bad." She grinned up at him. "Though you're still moving like a robot."

"I don't dance much."

"You don't say." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Let me guess - you don't date much either."

"My work-"

"Keeps you busy. Yeah, I've heard that one before." She pressed closer as someone bumped into them. "Life's short, Sheriff. Even for paranormals."

The scent of her filled his nose, making his head spin. Or maybe it was the way she fit against him, like she belonged there. His lion rumbled with approval, which was definitely not helping matters.

"You're thinking too hard," she murmured.

"Someone has to."

"Not tonight." She rose on her tiptoes, her lips close to his ear. "Tonight you're just a guy in a bar, having fun with a pretty girl."

His grip tightened on her waist. "Is that what this is?"

"Could be." She pulled back with a wicked smile. "If you'd loosen up a little."

The jukebox crackled as it switched tracks, the upbeat song fading into something slower and more intimate. Dominic's breath caught as Tabitha slid her arms around his neck, her body pressing closer against his. His hands settled at her waist, seemingly of their own accord.

"There you go. The world isn’t ending because you decided to dance," she teased, her blue eyes sparkling up at him.

His lion stirred restlessly, wanting to pull her even closer. The scent of her enveloped him, making it hard to focus on anything else.

"I still don't think this is proper surveillance technique," he muttered, though his hands didn't move from her waist.

"Always the sheriff." She smiled, her fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "Even when you're supposed to be undercover."

The touch sent shivers through him. This close, he could count the light freckles across her nose and see the flecks of silver in her blue eyes. When had the troublemaker who constantly tested his patience become someone who made his heart race?

"Tabitha," he started, not sure what he was going to say next.

She tilted her head up, her lips parting slightly. The movement drew his gaze downward, and suddenly he couldn't remember why kissing her would be a bad idea. His head lowered, drawn to her like a magnet.

A flash of movement suddenly caught his eye. Bruce hurried past them, heading toward a darkened corner of the bar. Dominic's muscles tensed, his sheriff's instincts kicking in despite the haze of attraction clouding his mind.

"Did you see that?" he murmured.

"Mm-hmm." Her fingers tightened slightly in his hair. "Think we should follow?"

"In a minute." His lion growled in agreement. "We don't want to look too suspicious."

They swayed together for another moment, though Dominic's attention was now split between the woman in his arms and their target disappearing into the shadows.

Dominic finally guided Tabitha to a booth near Bruce's darkened corner, his hand protectively on her back. He positioned himself with his back to Bruce, trusting his enhanced hearing to pick up the conversation. Tabitha slid closer to him in the booth.

His lion's hearing picked up Bruce's muffled voice. "The witch is more trouble than she's worth. Blackmane's already suspicious."

"Then we move to plan B," a familiar voice replied, making Dominic's muscles tense. "This town's crawling with creatures who don't belong here."

Tabitha's hand found his under the table as Bruce continued, "These paranormals think they can just live among us like they're normal. It's disgusting."

"That's why we're here," the other man said. "To restore the natural order."

Dominic's fingers tightened around Tabitha's as his lion snarled beneath his skin. The hatred in their voices made his protective instincts surge.

Chairs scraped against the floor as Bruce and his companion stood. Dominic turned slightly, careful to keep his face hidden. His blood ran cold as he caught sight of Roy Marks, leader of the Paranormal Hunters.

"What is it?" Tabitha whispered, noticing his rigid posture.

"Roy Marks," he growled softly. "Bruce is working with the Hunters."

Tabitha's sharp intake of breath matched his own shock. His back-up sheriff was in league with the most notorious anti-paranormal group in the country.