Desperately Seeking Shapeshifter (5 page)

Oh. I looked down at my hand in his, still laying atop his flat palm. “That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

His hand clasped over mine, feeling obscenely warm. Most shifters had a higher natural body heat than humans, but Ramsey was practically a furnace. Holding his hand was strangely comforting, even if it did force us to stand in close proximity. The scent of him was heavy in my nostrils—not unpleasant as far as shifter smells went. Wolves always smelled like wet dog to me, so he’d certainly gotten the raw end of the deal.

“You will have to remember that we are a couple in love,” he told me gruffly.

I snorted. “You need to remember that, too. When I kiss you, you need to kiss me back.”

Silence. I could almost hear the scowl on his face.

“I will try,” he grudgingly said.

“If you keep scowling all the time when I kiss you, we might have to practice kissing, too,” I said in a light voice.

He said nothing.

Okay, he clearly had no sense of humor.

When the silence stretched on, I began to feel awkward. My hand was still clasped in his, and Ramsey stood extremely close to me in the darkness. Was he waiting for me to speak? To leave?

“Is that everything?” I ventured after a few more moments.

“You should have told Beau that you can’t shift.”

The oddly gentle statement threw me off guard.

“Shifting should not be painful. You should not vomit blood. The Anderson alpha was right to be concerned. You put all of us in jeopardy. You cast doubt upon our mating. It looked as if I did not care for your well-being when you shift like that.”

This felt surprisingly like a lecture, and my temper bristled. “Thanks for the tip,” I snapped. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When I tried to pull my hand out of his, he continued to hold on to it. “Is that what you were doing this morning? Trying to force a shift?”

I tugged at my hand. “None of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said gravely. “You’re my mate.”

“Just for show,” I retorted. “That’s as far as it goes. You’ll be free as soon as I figure out how to shift and get the wolves off my ass. So quit stressing; you’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

I tugged at my hand again. This time he released it, and I strode past him to the door of the barn. “If this charming little lecture is done, I’m going to head inside and talk to my sister.”

“One last thing,” he said after me.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t call me that name.”

That name? I struggled to remember, then smothered a laugh. “Huggy Bear? You have a problem with Huggy Bear? It’s just a stupid name.”

He wasn’t laughing. “Don’t call me that.”

My lips twitched but I held back the smile. “It’ll be good for the disguise. All couples have ridiculous names for each other. I’m sure my sister and Beau do. You’ll get used to it . . . Huggy Bear.”

And before he could respond, I slipped out of the barn and ran for the house.

My sister greeted me with my bag when I got to the door. Beau and Connor standing close behind her. So much for that private conversation.

She gave me a tight, worried smile. . “Everything all right?”

“Just ducky,” I said cheerfully and took the bag from her.

“Good,” Bath said. “So you’ll be at work tomorrow like normal?” Her eyes held mine, as if she was trying to communicate something. “I can’t really spare you, not with Giselle gone.”

Our agency was usually a five-person crew—two of us in the daytime, two at night, and a boss to supervise. Giselle, our old boss, had been killed a few days ago when Bathsheba had been attacked by the Wendigo. Bath had taken the reins of Midnight Liaisons, so we were shorthanded as she tried to juggle her job and run the agency. And with a human running a paranormal dating agency, there were going to be some serious growing pains.

But I knew that wasn’t why Bath had said she couldn’t spare me. She wanted to have a long talk and was using work as the excuse.

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

A shadow fell over my shoulder, and I glanced back to see Ramsey. He reached over and took my bag, shouldered it, then held his hand out to me.

I put my hand in his.

My sister blinked at us, then smiled. “I’ll let you two lovebirds run off, then. See you tomorrow.”

Ramsey led me out to his pickup truck and opened the door for me, then I slid in, followed closely by Connor Anderson. The wolf gave me a flirty wink. “You two just pretend like I’m not here.”

Ramsey snorted.

After an uncomfortably silent ride, Ramsey eventually turned down a dirt road, slowing the truck to a crawl due to the scattered paving gravel and potholes. The barbed-wire fences along the lane indicated that someone lived in this area, though it looked deserted. The sun was setting, and in the
fading light I could make out a looming house in the distance, surrounded by half-naked trees. That had to be our destination.

“You kinda live out in the middle of nowhere,” Connor commented, looking ahead at the house. “Reminds me of home. Lots of room to run. Very wolf friendly.”

Ramsey said nothing, the sound of gravel crunching as we came to a halt.

I stared out the windshield at the ramshackle monstrosity before us. It looked like the plantation that time forgot. The yard was overgrown with plants and bushes, half of them dead. Looming over the mess was a specter of a Victorian mansion. The covered porch sagged, the house seemed to have lost every single windowpane, and paint peeled off the boards. Torn curtains fluttered out of an upstairs window. The yard was full of destroyed crap that might have possibly come from inside the house. If I peered hard enough, I could see part of a couch in the tall grasses.

“We’re here,” Ramsey said.

I slid out of the truck after Connor, staring up at the house. Maybe it wasn’t so bad on the inside. Maybe he’d bought a fixer-upper and was renovating.

Or maybe this was just as bad as it looked.

Connor scratched his jaw and looked over at me. “Um. You guys stay here much?”

“I’ve never been,” I admitted. When Connor raised an eyebrow, I flushed. “We usually spend our time over at the Russell house or at my place.”

“Maybe we should go back to your place,” he said with a friendly grin.

Ramsey scowled at Connor and pushed past him.

“Can’t,” I said absently. “My sister and Beau are living there while he’s in town. They need their privacy.” And I didn’t want to be tortured with another night of hearing their lovemaking through the walls. If my sister had known, she’d have been totally mortified. And we couldn’t stay at the Russell place, because then Connor would hear the distinct
lack
of lovemaking coming from Ramsey’s quarters. Though how that was going to be solved in this ramshackle mansion, I didn’t know—

Oh, jeez. My face flushed bright red as I realized I was going to have to sleep in the same bed as Ramsey. I grabbed my overnight bag out of the passenger seat and tried not to think about that.

The sun was setting behind the house, haloing it with light and shadow. Shouldering my bag, I moved forward to the porch and gestured for Connor to follow. The yard was overgrown with two-foot-tall grasses, and I avoided a few holes that looked snake friendly. You never knew out in the country. The steps leading up to the porch were warped with time and weather, and just as gray as the siding on the house. I placed my foot on one, testing the weight. To my relief, it creaked but held. I moved slowly up the stairs, staring around me. The front door had a busted screen. Both windows next to it were shattered, and there were some broken chimes rusting
on the overhanging porch, which itself was sagging to the right.

“Wow, Barbie’s dream house,” Connor said sarcastically.

I gave him a quelling look.

Ramsey’s large form moved to stand next to me on the porch, and the floorboards groaned. He held out his hand. “There a problem?”

“No,” I said, slipping my hand into his. “No problem.”

“Small problem,” Connor said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at his surroundings. “I’m not sure if I’m willing to risk being buried in the backyard and showing up on an episode of
Dateline
.”

Ramsey glared.

“Well?” Connor said. “At this point you’re supposed to reassure us that you’re not a serial killer. That you’re going to flip this eyesore for a profit, right?”

Ramsey continued to glare. His hand holding mine grew a little tighter.

“Connor, please,” I said. “I’m sure this is just Ramsey’s ancestral home. Isn’t it?”

“No,” said Ramsey.

Oh. Oh, dear. “Well, I think it’s a charming fixer-upper, Huggy Bear.” I patted his arm. “Which room is Connor’s?”

“None of them,” said Ramsey, and he inclined his head to the backyard. “Guesthouse.”

Connor laughed. “There’s a guesthouse? Now this I gotta see.” He trotted back down the porch
steps and disappeared around the side of the house.

As soon as Connor was gone, Ramsey leaned forward, his hands propped up on the porch railing, caging me between his arms. The move pinned me between him and the steps. I could let him lean all over me, close enough to breathe, or I could retreat down the porch steps, which was probably what he wanted.

I tilted my chin back, meeting his challenging gaze. It was kind of like staring a bear down inside his own cave . . . no pun intended. It was good that he was glaring at my face, because he might have seen how my hands trembled otherwise.

His face was so close that I could feel his warm breath against my cheek, the dark eyes that had seemed so beautiful from a distance narrowed in on my face. “What did I tell you about that name?”

“That you didn’t like it.” When he spoke in that sultry tone, it didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as expected. “It’s not for your benefit. It’s for his.”

“Apologize.”

What?
“Hell, no. This isn’t kindergarten. I didn’t say anything worth apologizing over.”

He simply continued to stare down at me, waiting.

“You’re not going to bully me into doing what you want.” I shoved a hand against his chest, warning him to back off. But Ramsey didn’t move, and my hand ended up lying against the very warm, rock-hard chest that was barely contained by his button-down flannel shirt.

He seemed to almost lean into my small hand; his face was pressing so close to mine that if I moved forward, our noses would touch.

“Here’s the thing, Ramsey,” I said, swallowing hard. “You said people have to believe that we’re in love. So you going around telling me to apologize really isn’t going to fly this week. The dopey pet name is good for our disguise, even if you don’t like it. We have to work together. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“Scratching,” he repeated, murmuring the word as if tasting it. “You know that shifters are very . . . hands-on.” His nostrils flared, almost as if he was sniffing me.

“I know,” I said softly. I wished I could forget.

“You’re up for this? Pretending to be mated? It’s not going to be easy.” His tone was harsh.

“I’ll be fine. It’s too late to back out,” I repeated in a firm voice. All I had to do was pretend to be in love with an irascible man for a few weeks. No problem. Some hand-holding, some fake affection, a few shifting lessons, and then Connor would go home to the wolves and I could go back to my regular life.

A sound rumbled low in Ramsey’s throat, and as the puffs of breath tickled my face I realized he was laughing. “If the wolf’s living with us, we’re going to have to be affectionate around him.”

“I know.” Though I hadn’t thought about it when I’d come up with my brilliant plan. Way to go, Sara.

“You’ve seen the way your sister acts around
Beau. Are you ready for me to touch you? Kiss you? Sleep in the same bed? Because once we go inside the house, there’s no backing out.”

My throat went dry at those images. Bath and Beau always had their hands all over each other. “Are you trying to back out—”

“No,” he growled.

“Then I want to lay some ground rules.” I lifted my hand from his chest and raised one finger. “Number one—no sex. If I wanted to pretend in bed, I’d call my last boyfriend.”

His dark gaze flared, and he gave me an odd look. “Pretend?”

Was he insulted . . . or challenged? I didn’t want to ask. “Number two,” I said, wagging a second finger next to the first. “I call the shots. If I’m tired of kissing you, or holding your hand, or whatever it is bears do in public, then we stop.”

Ramsey continued to study me, his gaze ultra-focused. “Anything else?”

“Number three,” I said, uncurling another finger. “You keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours. If I say I don’t want to talk about something, I don’t want to talk about it. And if I show up with a wolf snout because I can’t figure out how to change back, I don’t want you mocking me or making me feel like a freak.”

Ramsey’s hot gaze raked over me. “You’re not a freak. You’re perfect,” he said in a low voice, and before I could blush, he added, “but if I see you having trouble changing, I’m going to step in and help.”

“Fine.” I didn’t want to walk around with a wolf snout. And I was still a little melty from the “perfect” comment. “We’re good, then.”