My mouth falls open, and he laughs—reallylaughs.
Deep and gravelly, like distant thunder rolling over sunbaked hills.It vibrates straight through me and settles somewhere dangerous.
I shift in my seat, squeeze my thighs together, and pray toliterally any benevolent entitythat he doesn’t notice.
So he definitely notices.
But to his credit, he just sips his ridiculous coffee again, growls softly, and changes the subject.
“So, I understand from your letter you require accommodations?”
“Yeah,” I say, grateful for the pivot even as heat creeps up my neck.“Figured I’d check into a motel?”
“In Arrhythmia?”he snorts.“Agent, we’re not exactly a tourist destination.Closest motel shut down after an angry Kitchen Witch hexed the plumbing.Tried to turn it into a spa.Didn’t end well.”
“Oh.”
“But,” he says, stretching the word like honey, “I know somewhere you can stay.”
Cue ominous music.
Which is how I find myself standing at the bottom of avery narrow staircase, watching thevery largeandvery hotSheriff Owen Randall haul myvery pink,very obvioussuitcase up to the so-called“only vacancy in town.”
Guess where?
Above hisgarage.
That’s right.I’m staying at the hot, broody Shifter Sheriff’s house.
In a guest room that smells like cedarwood, testosterone, and something a little darker I can’t quite name.
Kill me now.
He reaches the top, glances over the railing, and grins.
“You coming?”
Oh,I just bet you think you can make me come,cocky little Wolf,I think, then mentally slap myself.
Focus, Megan.
But I can’t help the tug in my chest as I follow him up, soaking in every quirky, otherworldly inch of this place.
Arrhythmia is weird.
Like,objectivelyweird.
But it’s also kind of wonderful.
No one stares at you for talking about supernatural energy.
No one rolls their eyes when you mention ghosts or visions.
No one tries to sedate you or call your dad in a panic.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m hiding half of who I am.
And that thought sneaks up on me, burrows deep.
