Page 3 of Wedding for My Werewolf (Fairhaven Falls #7)

CHAPTER 3

E ric began his morning rounds, nodding to the vendors setting up their stalls in the town square. Fairhaven Falls was a quiet town, but he liked to make sure people saw him if they needed help or just wanted to chat. The cold morning air carried a mix of scents—coffee from the coffee shop, wood smoke from chimneys, and the distinct signatures of Others and humans alike.

He chose a path that took him past Garrick’s mansion, not allowing himself to think too much about why he’d decided on that path. A scent caught his attention as he passed—vanilla and sunshine with an undercurrent of fear. Robin. One encounter and her scent had branded itself on his memory, along with the image of big amber eyes in a pale face.

His wolf stirred, pressing against his skin, urging him closer. Her scent was still strong, and he decided she must have gotten the job. Why had she lied about just passing through? Didn’t she realize that everyone in a small town knew everyone else’s business? They were all aware that Garrick had returned to town and was looking for a housekeeper.

“Morning, Sheriff.” Mrs. Chen waved from her herb shop. “Everything quiet?”

“As it should be.”

He nodded and forced himself to keep walking, though his wolf wanted to circle back, to make sure Robin was settling in safely.

He shook his head. Humans came and went in Fairhaven Falls. Some stayed, drawing comfort from the town’s acceptance, while others couldn’t handle the sight of trolls shopping for groceries or harpies haggling over produce prices. Robin would make her choice, same as the rest.

But something about her had set his instincts on edge the day before. The way she’d startled at his presence in the square, how those big amber eyes had darted around like prey searching for escape routes. Not the usual wariness humans showed around Others—this ran deeper.

A growl rumbled in his chest. His wolf didn’t like the thought of her being afraid, didn’t like not knowing what had chased her to their town.

“Keep it professional,” he muttered to himself. The last thing she needed was the local sheriff hovering around, especially when his presence clearly unsettled her.

Still, as he continued his patrol, his senses remained tuned to that corner of town, tracking the subtle movements of life around the old mansion. Just to maintain order , he told himself. Nothing more.

His steps slowed as he passed a flower stall, a riot of reds and purples against the white snow. A bouquet of blood red roses caught his eye, and an image flashed through his mind of their deep hue against the cream of Robin’s skin.

“You planning to buy those or just stare at them?” The stall owner glared at him, one gnarled hand tucked inside her apron pocket, and he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Just looking. You always have the most beautiful flowers, Esmeralda.”

“Too charming for your own good,” the dryad muttered, but she pulled one of the roses free and handed it to him.

He thanked her and tucked it inside his uniform jacket as he made his way over to the cafe at the end of Main Street. Rona waved him to a seat at the counter, filling his coffee cup before hurrying off again. She returned a short time later with a large plate of steak and eggs, and he grinned at her.

“Just what I wanted.”

“I know.” She returned the smile and he shook his head.

“You’re always looking after me, Rona. What would I do without you?”

“Starve, probably.”

He snorted and dug into his food, aware of Rona watching him.

“Anything on your mind?”

“As a matter of fact…” She tugged at the apron covering her classic pink diner uniform, and he waited patiently. Rona had never been shy.

“There’s a new girl in town. She just got the job at the mansion.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?”

Something in her voice made him lower his fork. “Is there a problem?”

“No. Yes.” She sighed and pushed a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. “I don’t know. There’s something about her. Something…”

“Something what?”

“Something… sad. Maybe lonely.” She shrugged. “She reminds me of a lost little bird.”

“A little bird.” His tone was skeptical, and Rona swatted at his arm.

“Oh, stop. It’s my feminine intuition.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Rona, you’re a siren.”

“Feminine intuition works on any species.” She sniffed.

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t laugh at me, Eric Grayson.”

“Me?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know—I just think she needs help.”

His wolf immediately agreed, but he simply nodded.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

She smiled at him and raced off again. He demolished his breakfast, then lingered over his coffee, scanning the morning paper while keeping an ear tuned to the steady rhythm of the town. The usual breakfast crowd filtered in and out—trolls ducking under the doorframe, pixies zipping between tables, humans chatting over pancakes. John, one of the yetis who lived in the peaks outside of town, lounged on the patio by the river, enjoying the sunshine.

The bell chimed as the door opened and Robin’s scent drifted in from outside. His head snapped up in time to see her wrestling with an armload of grocery bags as she wove between patches of ice on the sidewalk. Paper bags stretched at their seams, threatening to split. Her auburn hair had escaped its neat braid, stray wisps catching fire in the sunlight as she tried to balance her load.

The bottom bag gave out. Oranges and apples scattered across the snow-dusted concrete.

He was out the door before his wolf could finish its urgent press against his skin.

“Here, let me help with those.” He crouched down next to her, gathering the runaway fruit before it could roll into the street.

She tensed at his voice, her fingers tightening on the remaining bags. That flash of wariness in her eyes made his chest ache.

“Sheriff Grayson,” she said cautiously.

“Eric,” he corrected, and she gave him a tentative smile.

“Thank you, Eric.”

His name had never sounded so sweet, and he had to force his hands to remain steady as he gathered the escaped fruit into the remains of the bag. Then he gestured at the remaining bags.

“Let me carry those for you.”

“But—”

“I insist. Those bags won’t make it halfway to Garrick’s place.”

Her pulse jumped—he caught the flutter at her throat. She took a half-step back, amber eyes darting to the street behind him.

“How did you know where I?—”

“Small town.” He kept his voice level, matter-of-fact. “Word travels fast.”

She wavered, shifting the remaining bags. One handle stretched dangerously thin.

“Look, I’ll walk ten paces behind if it makes you more comfortable. But these groceries aren’t going to carry themselves.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Five paces.”

“Deal.” He gathered the grocery bags into his arms, supporting their weight to stop the paper from tearing. “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence up the winding road, snow crunching under their boots. He wanted to ask what had happened to make her so skittish, who had hurt her badly enough to put that haunted look in her eyes. Instead, he redistributed the groceries between his arms and followed her, staying exactly five paces behind. His wolf bristled at the distance, but he ignored it. And there were some compensations for his position, he thought, admiring the swing of her pretty little ass and the soft sway of her braid.

They reached Garrick’s iron gates. Robin punched in a code, and the gates swung open with a groan. He followed her to the porch, then she hesitated and gave him an uncertain look.

“Would you mind bringing those inside and putting them on the counter?”

“No problem.”

He followed her into the huge, old-fashioned kitchen, his boots echoing on the tile floor. The room was spotless, the marble counters gleaming in the sunlight and the brass on the big range polished to a shine. He put the bags down on the old wooden island and she immediately began unloading the groceries, shooting a look at him from under her lashes.

“Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to.”

“It was my pleasure. Let me know if you need anything.”

His wolf whined, urging him to stay, but the scent of her anxiety lingered in the air. He forced himself to give her a casual nod, but as she turned away, he removed the rose from under his jacket and tucked it in with the groceries.

Halfway down the corridor, he ran into Garrick. The gargoyle looked at him and shook his head, a smile twisting his lips.

“Well, well, well. I heard you were the new sheriff but I didn’t quite believe it. Whatever happened to the old Eric? The one who ran wild every night?”

He shifted uncomfortably, but he couldn’t deny it. He and Garrick had been good friends before the other male left town, and he’d been with them on more than one of those nights.

“He grew up after you left.”

Dark eyes studied his face. “Is that what the Pack thinks?”

“No. They haven’t changed.”

Garrick nodded, but didn’t press the subject. Instead his gaze traveled past Eric to the closed kitchen door.

“What do you think of my new housekeeper?”

His wolf growled at the possessive pronoun but he managed to keep it silent.

“She seems nice.”

“Hmm. She’s also jumpy as a rabbit.” The gargoyle’s stone features were hard to read, but Eric caught the slight narrowing of his eyes.

“How’s she working out?”

“Better than I expected.” Garrick crossed his arms, granite skin catching the light. “She’s already made a difference. The kitchen hasn’t been that clean in decades. I even found her reorganizing the library at dawn this morning.”

“Dawn?”

“Mmm. Said she couldn’t sleep.” The other male’s wings shifted, a tell he recognized from their years of friendship. “Strange hours for a human.”

“You think there’s more to her story.”

“Don’t you?” Stone lips quirked. “But she works hard and stays busy. That’s enough for me.”

He tamped down a growl. Trust Garrick to play guardian to another stray. Still, better the gargoyle than someone less… honorable.

“Just keep an eye on her.” He turned to leave, then paused. “And Garrick? Thanks for giving her a chance.”

The gargoyle’s rumbling laugh followed him down the path. “Careful, Sheriff. Your soft spot is showing.”

As he headed back to his office he considered Robin’s reaction to him. Most humans were wary of werewolves, true. But her fear ran deeper than that instinctive uneasiness. Her scent carried too many layers of old terror, like wounds that hadn’t quite healed.

The question was whether those wounds were simply the product of human prejudice, or if she had real reasons to hide.

He was still wondering when he made his last patrol of the day, the last rays of sunlight painting the river in shades of amber and gold. His wolf caught her scent before he saw her—that sweet vanilla scent mixed with something distinctly her.

She stood at the river’s edge, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the strip of open water between the sheets of ice. The evening breeze played with loose strands of her auburn hair, and he found himself tracking the movement.

He cleared his throat and kept his steps loud enough to announce his presence. “Evening.”

She startled anyway, her hand flying to her chest as she spun round to face him.

“Sheriff.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He stayed back, giving her space. The fear in her scent lessened, but didn’t disappear entirely.

“Just… thinking.” Her eyes darted to the path behind him, checking her escape route.

“River’s peaceful this time of day.” He gestured to the water. “I used to come here myself when I needed to clear my head.”

“Used to?”

“Being sheriff doesn’t leave much time for quiet moments.”

The admission slipped out before he could stop it, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Sounds lonely.”

The observation hit closer to home than he liked. His wolf pushed forward, drawn to the unexpected flash of empathy in those amber eyes.

“How are you settling in at Garrick’s?”

“Fine.” The walls slammed back up. “He’s been… kind.”

He nodded, noting how she angled her body away from him. Everything about her screamed of someone used to running. But running from what?

“If you need anything…” He left the offer hanging.

“I don’t.” The words came too quick, too sharp. She took a breath, softened her tone. “But thank you. And… thank you for the rose.”

“You’re welcome.”

The setting sun cast shadows across her face, highlighting the wariness in her features. His wolf whined, wanting to ease that tension from her shoulders, but he knew better than to push. He bid her goodnight and went on his way.

But he couldn’t stay away. Instead he found himself circling Garrick’s property for the third time that night. The mansion’s weathered stone walls loomed against the star-filled sky, and a warm light glowed from Robin’s second-floor window.

His wolf paced beneath his skin, refusing to let him return home. The protective instinct made no sense—she wasn’t Pack, wasn’t even a friend. Just a stranger who flinched at sudden movements and carried secrets in her wary eyes.

But he couldn’t shake the way her scent changed when she’d mentioned Garrick’s kindness. That flash of genuine warmth, quickly buried under layers of careful control. It wasn’t the typical human reaction to Others that made her guard herself. This went deeper.

Her shadow passed back and forth across her window, pacing. She paused at the glass, and for a moment he thought she’d spotted him in the darkness. His heart kicked against his ribs, but she turned away, the light clicking off seconds later.

He exhaled and leaned against a nearby oak tree. What was he doing out here, like some lovesick Romeo? He had responsibilities, a town to protect. He couldn’t afford to fixate on one mysterious woman, no matter how much his wolf wanted to unravel her mysteries.

But as he pushed off the tree to head home, his instincts screamed that there was more to Robin’s story than simple wariness. Whatever she was running from, whatever shadows dogged her steps, they’d followed her to his town. His territory.

He cast one final look at her darkened window. Whether she wanted his protection or not, he’d make damn sure nothing threatened her here in Fairhaven Falls.