Even though Riley’s research had told him Matt Urban was in his early thirties, he was taken by surprise by the youth of the man who stood behind his desk, offering Riley his hand. When he thought of a sheriff, he tended to think of a grizzled man in his fifties, not a good-looking guy whom Riley would most definitely check out if he saw him at the gym.
Urban’s blond hair was messy, a lock falling over his forehead and drawing Riley’s attention to his green eyes. From there, his gaze moved to Urban’s mouth, because those were pretty sensual-looking lips for a guy in law enforcement. The sheriff filled his uniform in a way that left no doubt that, although he wasn’t huge with muscles, they were definitely there. There was something else about the man, too—a sense of self-assurance and confidence. This man never doubted himself.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Clark?” Urban asked, as Riley took a seat.
The intelligence in his eyes put Riley on edge. He decided against telling the detailed story of how he chose Elk Ridge and exactly what he had planned for his book, because he had the feeling Matt Urban would see right through it. Instead, he gave the briefest context possible before plunging into his questions.
“I’m writing a tourist travel guide to the area and wanted to know how safe Elk Ridge is. Crime statistics, that sort of thing.”
Urban’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Elk Ridge, vacation central? That’s a little unexpected,” he said. “Tell me you’re not planning to build a theme park.”
“Nothing like that,” Riley promised. “Just somewhere for people to experience therealColorado—or America, depending how far they’ve come. Somewhere the cowboys have horseshit on their boots.”
“Well, we can certainly provide the horseshit,” Urban drawled. “And probably rustle up a cowboy or two to model it.”
Riley grinned. In other circumstances, he thought he’d have liked Urban.
The sheriff then turned his attention to Riley’s question and answered in some detail. He obviously knew his patch—the few offenses tended to be committed by the same people, who never seemed to learn they’d be the obvious suspects. “The courts call it recidivism,” he said. “I call it learning-absolutely-nothing syndrome.”
Riley smiled politely, but he was focused on what he was going to ask next. He hoped his question didn’t make Urban mad, because no matter how casually he seemed to be slouched in his chair, there was a watchfulness to him that left Riley in no doubt he could be up and over that desk before Riley could so much as twitch.
He took a deep breath and opened the subject he’d been building up to all along. It had taken him a while to figure out a natural reason for a travel writer to be interested in shifters, and he was pleased with his solution.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Sheriff, but I’m aware you’re a shifter.”
“I am,” Urban said.
His eyes were guarded, giving away nothing of his thoughts, yet Riley had the distinct impression of a predator who’d just caught wind of a tasty snack. He swallowed before speaking again.
“I mean,” he forced himself on, “I don’t want to encourage shifters to come here if they’re going to get the cold shoulder, but if the local pack’s been accepted by the community, then anti-shifter sentiment’s obviously not going to be a problem. Has there ever been trouble here between normal people and shifters?”
Urban didn’t answer right away. He surveyed Riley through eyes that were very slightly narrowed before he leaned forward, his jaw tight. Something hard and powerful in his gaze made Riley want to curl into a ball and rock softly in a safe corner.
“Seems to me you know very little about shifters.” Urban’s words were slow and deliberate. Each one hit like a bullet. “We don’t tend to vacation much, and you know what? Unless I turned into a wolf right in front of you, you wouldn’t have a clue I’m not one of younormal people, as you put it.”
Oh,shit.He’d never meant—he hadn’trealized—
“Sorry,” he said, and it was practically a squeak. “I didn’t mean anything by that.” He’d never spoken to a shifter before and so he’d never had to watch his language.
Urban’s gaze seared like lightning. Holding it was brutally hard, but Riley summoned everything in him, every bit of will, because hehadto do this.
“I didn’t know about shifters not vacationing,” he said, determinedly moving the conversation on. “Is that because of the territory thing? Is this town pack territory?”
“That’s a lot of interest in shifters for a travel guide,” Urban said.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes hooded as he regarded Riley. The immediate feeling of threat was gone, but there was still an air of danger that made Riley’s heart beat fast.
“But for your information,” Urban continued, “the town’s not pack territory. My pack come and go freely in town, but it’s not ours to claim.”
At last. He had confirmation there was a pack and that Urban was its alpha. Triumph zinged through Riley, and he had to fight not to let it show. This could be it—the story that finally made his name. It wasbig, and no one else had it.
He bit down on the rush of excitement and cleared his throat. Urban hadn’t ripped his head off yet, so he might as well push things a little further.
“Seeing as how I’ve put my foot in my mouth already, any tips for what not to say if I run into members of your pack? I’m unfamiliar with shifters, and I don’t want to cross any lines just because I don’t know they’re there.” If Urban could give him a way to identify shifters on sight, that would make his life so much easier.
Urban scrutinized him with hard, green eyes. “I’d suggest you treat us just like you would anyone else.” Then something in himchanged, like a shaft of sunshine peeking briefly through storm clouds. His eyes warmed, and his lips twitched slightly, genuine amusement flashing across his face. “But keep an eye out for Bryce. Man could flirt with a brick wall and get it blushing.”
“Bryce?” Riley asked, laying his pen down on his notebook to make it obvious this was casual conversation, not research.
