“Sure,” he said. Instead of fetching the jug from the fridge, he picked up Riley’s glass and took it back to the counter so he could take a moment and remember how to breathe.
There was a slight smear on the rim of the glass where Riley’s mouth had been. Once Jason had noticed it, he couldn’t stoplooking at it and wondering just how that mouth would feel on something other than a glass. Something like Jason’s lips, for example.
For God’s sake, what waswrongwith him? He determinedly straightened his shoulders, composed himself again, and took the filled glass back to Riley.
“Would you like anything else, Ms. Taylor?” he asked.
“I’m fine, dear,” she said, a smile curving her lips as she watched Riley’s reaction to Jason’s food.
“This is pure food porn,” Riley murmured, licking his lips. And damn it, that wasn’t helping Jason one little bit. Riley glanced up at him. “Did you cook this?”
Jason nodded. “I should—” he said uncertainly, gesturing back toward the kitchen.
Ms. Taylor grabbed his hand. “Oh no, you don’t,” she said. “Riley is writing a travel guide and wants to know all about Elk Ridge. Much as I’d like to help him out, I have a date.”
She stood and smoothed down her black dress, causing Jason to glance away because it was kind of tight and clingy. “I was telling him it would be easiest for him to learn about the town if he was shown around by someone who lives here. Don’t you agree, Jason?”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he said, and then ground to halt as he realized.
“I’ll leave my money on the counter,” Ms. Taylor called on her way out, soundingwaytoo cheerful for someone who’d just set Jason up.
“I’m sorry,” he started, not daring to look at Riley’s face, because if he did, he knew he’d lose the power of speech. “You don’t have to, just because she—”
“Like you said, it’s agood idea,” Riley said.
When Jason raised his gaze, Riley smiled at him, and something in his eyes set Jason’s heart racing.
“I’m beginning to think this town has more to offer than I first thought,” Riley said.
Jason stared at him, not sure whether he was being flirted with or made fun of. The bell over the door jangled, and he looked up to find Sam was back. He excused himself, only for Riley to call after him. “Pick you up here tomorrow at three? That’s when your shift ends, isn’t it?”
Wasnothingsacred when it came to Ms. Taylor? “Fine,” he managed, and fled past a surprised-looking Sam into the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Chapter Three
RILEY
Riley returned to the motel, pleased with his work. He’d put his cover story out there in a perfectly natural way, and then there was arranging to hook up with Jason. He seemed shy, but that smile of his did something to Riley.
Riley shook his head to clear his mind. Thinking like that might be fun, but it wasn’t going to get his job done. He got some ice from the machine and cracked open a soda before sitting at the desk in his room. Like the rest of the place, it had seen better days, but all he needed was space for his laptop and, right now, his notepad. Because while Riley was all about convenience whenever possible, he also knew it was better to use paper for some things. It could always be burned afterward.
He wroteSheriff Matt Urban,Alpha, in the middle of the first page, and drew a circle around it. Next, he added two lines leading out from the circle toward the only other names he had, both with question marks against them—TristanandBryce.
Urban had gone public about being a shifter when he’d run for sheriff, but try as he might, Riley hadn’t been able to find mention of another shifter in Elk Ridgeanywhere. Not newspapers, social media, or even police records. And that was weird.
A pack couldn’t be one man. If there were no other shifters visible, it meant someone was hiding something. If not for Nerissa Taylor’s unwitting confirmation, he might think therewasno pack here and that his source had been wrong.
The only thing Riley had been able to find was the Twitter account of a college student, Tristan, who lived in Elk Ridge. He mainly tweeted—or whatever they called it now—aimless chatter about his classes, but he’d sometimes retweet something about shifter rights. He also made rueful complaints about a Bryce and his ongoing sexual liaisons, all couched in a way that made it clear Tristan was very close to this guy, though not in a romantic way. It was a bit of a reach, but right now it was all he had. Even if Tristan wasn’t a shifter, the fact he was a political ally meant he’d probably be friends with the local pack.
Nerissa Taylor’s defensive reaction had been interesting and unexpected. He wasn’t sure why she’d been so firm with him—it wasn’t like he was a bigot. He believed shifters should have equal rights.
His phone sounded, and he picked it up to find an email from his editor. He didn’t open it. He already knew she’d be demanding a progress report, and there was no point ruining the rest of the day. Instead, he started scrolling news feeds for anything relating to shifters. It was a constant fear in the back of his mind that someone might have beaten him to this story.
Nothing particularly new—Texas was still trying, and failing, to pass a law banning shifters from government jobs. That kind of thing had been floated for years, mostly by people who insisted they weren’t anti-shifter, justconcerned about safety.
Meanwhile, a shifter in Nebraska was still facing murder charges for killing a human, despite the fact that the evidence was flimsy at best. Riley, like most people, figured the case would have been dismissed weeks ago if the roles had been reversed.
Fear had a way of tipping the scales. Shifters might have equal rights on paper, but in practice, it didn’t take much for the worst in people to come out.
