Page 4 of Wedding for My Werewolf (Fairhaven Falls #7)

CHAPTER 4

R obin curled up in the window seat of her new room, wrapping herself in a thick wool blanket. Outside, darkness crept across Fairhaven Falls, the town’s lights twinkling like fallen stars beneath a fresh blanket of snow. The peaceful scene should have soothed her, but her mind refused to quiet.

Martin’s face flashed through her thoughts—his charming smile, the way his blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. He’d always seemed so trustworthy, but he must have identified her naivety from the start. The betrayal burned fresh in her chest, making her fingers dig into the blanket.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Below, a shadow moved past Garrick’s front lawn—probably Eric on another patrol. Her chest tightened. The sheriff’s protective nature reminded her too much of how Martin had been at first, always showing up exactly when she needed help.

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, pulling away from the window, and walking restlessly over to the rose in the vase by her bed. “Not everyone is like him.”

But the memories wouldn’t leave. He’d seemed so kind, but all the time he’d been using her to cover his illegal activities, setting her up to take the blame.

A knock at her door made her jump, bringing her back from the past.

“Tea?” Garrick’s deep voice carried through the wood. “I made a pot and thought you might want some.”

She wiped her eyes, surprised to find them damp. “Come in.”

The gargoyle ducked through the doorway, a steaming mug in his massive hand. He set it on the table by the window without comment, but his stone features softened at the sight of her tear-stained face.

“Bad memories make poor company,” he said. “I find tea helps.”

The simple kindness in his gesture cracked something in her chest. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and he turned to leave, his wings folding tight against his back.

“Whatever brought you here—you’re safe now.”

The door clicked shut behind him. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, breathing in the calming scent of chamomile. Safe. She wanted so badly to believe that.

The tea helped calm her nerves, but sleep remained elusive and she found herself pacing. What if that man found her once again? What if he dragged her back and turned her over to the police? The what-ifs piled up like the snow outside her window.

A soft scratch against the glass made her freeze. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tiptoed over to the window. Just a branch, she decided, watching the trees sway outside. The moon hung low and full, bathing the grounds in silver light. At first, she saw nothing but snow-laden trees and darkness, but then she spotted two golden eyes in the darkness beneath the trees. They gleamed with an otherworldly intelligence, watching, guarding.

Eric.

She wasn’t sure how she knew but she was certain of it. The sheriff. The protector of Fairhaven Falls. And somehow, for some reason, the protector of her. Her shoulders relaxed, tension draining away as she met that steady gaze through the glass.

His presence should have scared her. After all, wolves hunted rabbits, didn’t they? Instead, his silent watchfulness calmed her fears. She returned to her bed, the scent of tea and roses lingering in the air, and pulled the covers up to her chin. The memory of those golden eyes followed her into sleep, a silent promise of safety in the dark.

A week later, Robin pushed open the inn’s heavy oak door, the scent of fresh-baked cookies swirling around her as Alison looked up from behind the counter.

“Robin! Come in, come in. I just pulled snickerdoodles from the oven.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said nervously as she followed the other woman into a cozy kitchen that opened onto a plant-filled conservatory.

“Please. You’re saving me from alphabetizing guest records.” Alison placed a plate of cookies on the worn kitchen table. “How’s life at the gargoyle’s nest?”

“Quiet. But it’s good. I like seeing that I’m making a difference. And Garrick is very kind. He paid me this morning.” In cash, even though she hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask yet. “So I thought I’d come by and pay for the night I stayed here.”

Alison immediately shook her head.

“Nonsense. Flora would never forgive me.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, still hovering at the door of the kitchen.

“I’m positive. Now come and sit down. I’d love to know what you think of Fairhaven Falls.”

She hesitated, but the other woman’s smile was so friendly that she couldn’t resist. How long had it been since she’d had a simple, friendly conversation with another person?

“Well, it’s certainly different. I saw a yeti snowboarding down Main Street yesterday.”

“That was probably John.” Alison laughed. “I admit that the town is different, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Maybe.” She concentrated on the cookie Alison handed her, avoiding the other woman’s eyes. “Though the sheriff seems to pop up everywhere I go.”

“Eric?” Alison’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

The kitchen door swung open and Flora bustled in wearing a lime-green tracksuit with a silver spaceship over the words, Let’s Go Probing .

“Did someone mention our delicious sheriff? I do like a man with big?—”

“Flora!”

“Shoulders,” Flora continued innocently. “He does seem to have taken a shine to you, dear.”

Her cheeks heated. “It’s not like that. He just… happens to be around.”

“Happens to be around?” Flora raised an eyebrow. “Honey, that wolf doesn’t ‘happen’ to do anything. He’s the most responsible member of this town. If you’ve caught his attention, it’s because he’s chosen to keep an eye on you.”

“But why?” The question slipped out before she could help herself, and Flora patted her arm.

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself, dear. But it never hurts to have a wolf on your side.”

If he were on her side.

“Of course he is.” Flora answered her unspoken thought, then gave her an innocent look. “Trust me, dear.”

Before she could think of a response, the back door opened and a tall, pretty troll entered with a baby on her shoulder.

“Your daughter’s hungry,” she announced. “And my babysitting skills don’t extend that far.”

Alison jumped up to take the baby and the troll looked over at her.

“Hi. I’m Nichola. You must be Eric’s new obsession.”

“Nichola,” Alison chided as she unbuttoned her blouse, but Nichola ignored her, studying Robin with an intensity that brought the heat rushing to her cheeks again.

“I’m Robin.” She managed a smile, despite the fluttering in her stomach. “I’m not his obsession.”

“Really? Then why does he spend all his free time patrolling the same four blocks? And he hasn’t been at the bar for drinks since you showed up.”

“Really?” The question popped out before she could prevent it, and Nichola laughed.

“I can see we’re going to have to have a girls’ night very soon.”

Alison groaned and shook her head.

“Don’t do it! Don’t give her any ideas.”

“Too late. You and the sheriff, Robin. That’s definitely a story I need to hear.”

Nichola grinned, teeth flashing white against her pale blue skin, then sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving Robin staring after her.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said desperately, turning to Flora but the old woman had disappeared.

She looked over at Alison and the other woman smiled at her.

“I told you this town takes some getting used to, but honestly everyone means well. But if you do go drinking with Nichola, make sure to tell her the drinks need to be a tenth as strong as her. Trust me—I learned that lesson.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Alison studied her thoughtfully, then nodded.

“No pressure. But I hope you’ll at least come back and visit me again. We can have tea and watch the snow fall. And if you feel like talking, I’m a good listener. And a good friend.”

“Thank you.”

A lump caught in her throat. Part of her wanted to open up, wanted to tell someone, anyone, what had happened. But she didn’t want anyone else involved in her mess. So she hugged Alison and made her way back down the street, her footsteps muffled by a fresh fall of snow.

The conversation at the inn left her unsettled. Eric wasn’t interested in her, not the way the women had made it sound.

A burst of laughter drew her attention to the bakery. Eric was standing outside talking to several people, and she couldn’t help watching him. He was just so big and tall and strong. His presence commanded attention, and even from across the street, his deep voice carried over the general chatter. Then his head turned, golden eyes meeting hers across the street. Her breath caught and a jolt of heat ran through her.

He took a step towards her and then a small boy with unruly green curls darted through the crowd and crashed into Eric’s knees. Instead of the frown she half-expected, the sheriff smiled and dropped into a crouch, golden eyes softening as he met the child at eye level.

“Hey there, trouble.” The warmth in his voice caught her off guard.

The boy launched into an excited story, hands waving, and Eric grinned at him, revealing dimples she hadn’t noticed before. It was like glimpsing behind a curtain, seeing past the badge and uniform to someone more… human. Or rather, more wolf, she supposed.

The thought had barely formed when he looked over at her again, his eyes still soft and warm. Heat flooded her cheeks. She ducked her head and hurried away, not sure why the sight of him being kind to a child affected her so much, or why her heart refused to slow its rapid beating.

She slipped into the market to pick up something for dinner, determined to forget about one confusing werewolf. She’d just bought some homemade pasta from a charming brownie when something caught her attention at the edge of the crowd—broad shoulders wrapped in worn leather, military-straight posture, and that distinctive swagger. Rick Thatcher. Martin’s henchman and the same man who’d tracked her through three states.

How the hell had he found her this time? The paper bag of groceries slipped from her grip as she ducked behind the stall, her heart racing. She took a deep breath and peeked around the edge of the stall.

Rick was standing at the edge of the marketplace, pretending to examine a vendor’s wares while he scanned the crowd. He looked exactly as she remembered—the scar above his left eyebrow, a scruff of beard, the way his right hand never strayed far from his concealed holster.

Blood rushed in her ears. The mountains that had seemed so protective now felt like prison walls. The bus wouldn’t run again until Monday. The hiking trails were closed for the season. Her meager savings wouldn’t cover a taxi to the next town.

She was trapped.

The irony of it twisted in her stomach. She’d finally found somewhere that felt safe, somewhere she could breathe. And now…

Her fingers trembled as she pulled her hair loose, letting it fall around her face before she ducked across the street and into the alley that ran behind the row of shops on the far side of Main Street. At every moment she expected to feel a hand on her shoulder but she made it all the way back to Garrick’s without anyone stopping her. She breathed a sigh of relief as the iron gates closed behind her.

Now what?

She took refuge in the familiar, scrubbing the kitchen until it was spotless, then turning to the copper pots hanging over the stove. The rhythmic motion failed to calm her racing thoughts. Rick was here. In Fairhaven Falls. Her safe haven had crumbled in an instant.

The copper pot slipped from her grip, clanging against the floor, and she flinched.

“Something troubling you?” Garrick’s deep voice made her jump, and she looked up to find him in the doorway, his stone features unreadable.

“No, just clumsy today.” She forced a smile, returning to her furious cleaning. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. “These pots needed a good polish.”

Garrick’s wings rustled, a sound she’d learned meant he didn’t believe her. But before he could press further, footsteps echoed from the foyer.

“Garrick?”

Eric’s deep voice carried through the house, and this time the cleaning cloth dropped from her nerveless fingers. Not now. Not when she could barely hold herself together.

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, filling the space with his presence. Golden eyes locked onto her, and she felt exposed, transparent. Like he could see right through her carefully constructed walls to the terror beneath.

“Sheriff.” She ducked her head and pushed the pots aside. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“You don’t have to—” he started.

“Town matters, I’m sure.” She cut him off, already backing toward the door. “I need to finish upstairs anyway.”

She fled before either of them could respond, hurrying up the stairs. In the safety of her room, she pressed her forehead against the window, trying to steady her breathing. Had he sensed her fear? Did he suspect?

She couldn’t risk finding out. Couldn’t risk anyone else getting caught in the crossfire of her mistakes. She had to get out of town.