Page 5 of Wedding for My Werewolf (Fairhaven Falls #7)

CHAPTER 5

E ric trudged up the path to his cabin, still thinking about Robin’s panicked expression earlier. Something had spooked her—more than just his presence. His wolf paced restlessly beneath his skin, urging him to track down whatever threatened her.

A heavy perfume hit his nose before he reached the porch, and he sighed.

Lila lounged in one of his rocking chairs, long bare legs propped up on the porch railing. She was the highest-ranked female in the Pack and the most persistent of his admirers. Despite the weather, her coat was open to reveal a skin tight red dress. Objectively, she was a beautiful female, but absolutely nothing about her appealed to him.

“There you are,” she purred. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“It’s late, Lila.” He stepped past her to unlock the door. “Go home.”

She came up behind him and pressed herself against his back, her fingers sliding around to his stomach.

“Don’t be like that. When you become Alpha, you’ll need a strong alpha female, and we both know I’d be perfect for the role.”

Eric shrugged her off and pushed open the door. “Not interested. In either.”

“Is it because of that human girl?” she snapped. “The one staying with Garrick? She’s weak, Eric. You don’t need her.”

His wolf bristled at her dismissive tone.

“My personal life isn’t Pack business.”

“Everything about you is Pack business.” Lila blocked the doorway, her green eyes flashing. “Callan isn’t going to be Alpha forever.”

“I’m not taking over as Alpha.”

She waved his answer away impatiently.

“Of course you are, and you need to choose a mate soon. We can’t have our alpha running around alone, especially not pining after some human nobody.”

“Get out,” he growled.

“Fine.” Lila tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulders. “But this conversation isn’t over. The pack needs stability, Eric. And that means you need to stop fighting what’s expected of you.”

She sauntered off into the darkness, and he slammed the door hard enough to make the windows rattle. Why did no one believe he didn’t want to be Alpha? He had a town to protect. There wasn’t time for anything else.

He was still stewing about it the next morning as he patrolled Main Street, his wolf stirring restlessly under his skin. Pack politics. Lila. Marriage prospects. His mother’s meddling. The weight of their expectations pressed down on his shoulders.

He was staring out at the river when Flora popped up next to him. She was in bright blue today, covered with spangled snowflakes.

“Your mother called me this morning,” she said cheerfully. “Seems she’s got three more ‘suitable’ females lined up for you to meet.”

He clenched his jaw. “Not interested.”

“That’s what I told her.” Flora’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Though I might have mentioned you’ve been spending time with someone else.”

Oh, God. He closed his eyes in despair.

“Flora—”

“Don’t growl at me, boy.” She poked his chest painfully with a skinny little finger. “Let me tell you something—nothing gets rid of persistent mamas and desperate females faster than a taken male.”

“I’m not taken?—”

“Who said you were?” she asked innocently. “But if you happened to be seen around town with a certain new resident, well…” She shrugged. “Your mother might back off. The Pack too.”

He crossed his arms and glared at her.

“You’re interfering.”

“It’s what I do best.” Flora patted his arm. “Just think about it. A little white lie to buy you some peace and quiet? Might be worth it.”

He frowned out at the water, reluctantly considering her suggestion. His wolf immediately approved of the idea but his human side suspected it wouldn’t be as simple as Flora was making it sound.

“What about—” he began, but Flora had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

Fuck. He headed for the cafe, even though his wolf was already urging him to go to Garrick’s.

He strode into the cafe, the bell’s chime mixing with the clatter of plates and morning chatter. The familiar scent of coffee and bacon wrapped around him, but something else tickled his nose—an unfamiliar cologne mixed with gun oil.

Rona swooped by with his usual coffee as he reached the counter, then leaned in, her face worried.

“See the guy in the corner?” She tilted her head toward a man in a leather jacket. “Been here two mornings straight. Keeps asking questions about new folks in town.”

His wolf stirred. The stranger sat with his back to the wall, a position that gave him clear sight lines to both exits. A professional’s choice.

“Thanks, Rona.”

He strode over to the corner table. Big, blond, two days’ worth of stubble. Cold dark eyes studied him before a practiced smile crossed the man’s face.

“Howdy, Sheriff. Nice town you’ve got here.”

The slight Southern accent did nothing to disguise the coldness beneath the greeting.

“We like it.” He remained standing, using his height to full advantage. “Though most visitors don’t stick around this long without introducing themselves.”

“Rick Thatcher.” He offered his hand. “Just passing through, doing some… business research.”

He ignored the handshake and the man’s jaw tightened.

“Fairhaven Falls isn’t much for outside business. Might have better luck in the city.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thatcher drawled. “Small towns have their charms. Never know what—or who—you might find.”

“Word of advice?” He let his wolf surface just enough to flash gold in his eyes. “Our charm wears thin pretty quick when folks come looking for trouble.”

Thatcher’s hand twitched toward his jacket. “No trouble here, Sheriff. Just a friendly conversation.”

“Keep it that way.”

He turned and walked back to the counter, every sense focused on the threat behind him. He didn’t think the man would be foolish enough to take a shot in front of all these witnesses—and it took a lot to kill a werewolf—but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“He’s bad news,” Rona whispered as she put his plate in front of him. “There’s something evil about him.”

He believed her.

“Just stay away from him, Rona.”

She nodded and hurried off to deal with another customer, while he turned back to watch Thatcher.

The human calmly finished his breakfast, then pushed back from the table and left without a backwards glance.

“Don’t like the look of that one,” a gnome sitting at the counter muttered.

“Me either, Reggie. Me either. Spread the word, will you?”

“You got it, Sheriff.”

He finished his breakfast and left, then hesitated outside the door. He had plenty of work waiting at his office, but instead he found himself heading for Garrick’s. The timing was too perfect—a stranger asking questions right after Robin arrived. Her skittish behavior, the way she flinched at sudden movements. It all clicked into place.

He found her in Garrick’s library, dusting the shelves with quick, precise movements, but her shoulders tensed at his approach.

“We need to talk,” he said firmly.

She gripped her duster and gave him a suspicious look. “About what?”

“New guy in town. Blond hair, leather jacket, Southern accent. Ring any bells?”

The color drained from her face, as the acrid tang of fear overlaid her normal sweet scent.

“I don’t?—”

“Don’t lie,” he said sharply. “He’s been asking questions about newcomers. What’s he after?”

“Nothing.” She started to back towards the door. “I should get back to work.”

He stepped between her and the door, and she stared up at him, her eyes wide and scared. His wolf whined at her distress but he couldn’t protect her unless he knew what was going on.

“This isn’t just about you anymore. If he’s dangerous?—”

“Please move.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. Are you running from something? Someone?”

“Stop.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t get to interrogate me like I’m some kind of c-criminal.”

“If you’re in trouble?—”

“I said stop!” She hugged herself, trembling. “Just because you’re the sheriff doesn’t give you the right to demand answers. I don’t owe you my life story.”

The scent of her fear hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d pushed too hard, let his worry override his judgment.

“Robin—”

“Leave me alone.” She ducked past him and headed for the door.

His wolf clawed at his chest, desperate to stop her, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“Be my mate.”

She froze mid-step, her hand on the doorframe. “What?”

“Not for real,” he said quickly. “A pretend relationship. It would help both of us. The Pack’s been pushing me to choose someone, and I have a feeling you need the protection.”

She turned back to him, her face so pale that he could count every freckle.

“I don’t need?—”

“That man at the diner? He’s not leaving town. But if you’re with me, he can’t touch you.”

“Why would you do that?” she whispered.

“My mother keeps parading eligible wolves in front of me. A human mate would get both her and the Pack off my back.” He kept his voice steady, matter-of-fact. “It’s practical. For both of us.”

“And what happens when people realize it’s fake?”

“How would they know? I don’t live on Pack territory so we don’t need to spend much time with them.” He took a careful step toward her. “Just think about it. No pressure, no strings. But if you’re in trouble—real trouble—this could help.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, studying the floor. The silence stretched between them.

“I’ll let you consider it.” He forced himself to move past her towards the door, catching a hint of something beyond fear in her scent. Hope, maybe. “You know where to find me when you decide.”

He spent the rest of the day fighting the urge to go back and argue his case again. By the time the setting sun cast long shadows through the window of his office, he was reduced to pacing back and forth on the worn floorboards. He was fighting the urge to shift and run until his thoughts cleared when he heard a soft knock on the door.

Robin’s sweet scent drifted through the crack beneath the door—vanilla and fear and something else he couldn’t place.

“Come in.”

She slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Her shoulders were set, chin raised despite the tremor in her hands.

“I’ve been thinking about your offer.”

His wolf growled hopefully, but he forced himself to lean against his desk, aiming for casual. “And?”

“I might consider it.” She took a deep breath. “But first I need to know exactly what pretending to be your… m-mate… would entail. What would you expect?”

The way she stumbled over the word ‘mate’ shouldn’t have affected him. He crossed his arms.

“Nothing too complicated. Being seen together. Attending some Pack functions.”

She nodded, twisting her fingers together. “I have a few conditions.”