by Sophie Stern
“There’s nothing to hide,” she scoffs, pushing her hair back behind her shoulders. I think about what it would feel like to tug on that hair, to pull it while I’m sliding into her from behind. Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I just can’t seem to stop myself.
I sip the scotch again, and I just look at her. There’s something about this woman that draws me to her. She’s a very curious sort of creature. She seems kind and gentle. When her friend walked into the bar, all of her defenses just sort of faded away. With me, though, she’s on guard. Tense. Anxious.
With me, she doesn’t seem to be able to relax.
Why not?
“Well, shifter or not,” I wink at her. “What’s the best place to eat around here?”
“That’s easy. Bonnie’s.”
“Bonnie’s?”
“It’s a little deli,” she says, and her eyes light up when she talks about it. “It’s just around the corner from here.” She jerks her thumb in the direction of the restaurant. I think I remember seeing it earlier. “Tiny place, but the food is good.”
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“They only take cash,” she warns me. “I know how you city people can be.”
“Yes,” I say drily. “City people and their credit cards.” I roll my eyes dramatically, but then I laugh. “I’m not going to lie. Coming to a city that is still primarily cash-based is pretty damn strange.”
She shrugs. “It’s just how things work around here. Besides, you could hardly call it a city.”
“You aren’t wrong. You ever go anywhere else?” I ask her.
“Like where? Honeypot?”
“Strange your first suggestion was a shifter town,” I wink. “You know, for someone who isn’t a shifter.”
She bristles again and looks away.
The bell above the door jingles as the front door opens and a group of cowboys come in. The woman looks over at the door and then back at me.
“Let me know if you need another drink,” she says, and she hurries away. She starts taking drink orders immediately, and I’m amazed and impressed by how well she manages to maneuver around the tiny bar. She does a great job taking everyone’s orders, pouring drinks, and telling jokes in between orders.
I’m so busy staring at her that I don’t notice the other woman, the redhead, come over and sit next to me.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?”
“What? Oh,” I smile. “I suppose so.”
“I’m Foxy,” the woman holds out a hand.
“Robert,” I shake her hand with a smile. “And I do believe you’re the first person to willingly introduce themselves to me,” I tell her.
Foxy laughs. She throws her head back and smiles. Then she shakes her head. Her red curls bounce a little.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not sure that I will,” I tell her honestly. It’s something that bothers me a little bit. In the city, there’s a certain level of politeness that people offer to strangers.
“People are on guard here,” she tells me. “From what I can tell, you probably understand why.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Are you asking if I’m human?”
“I know you aren’t.”
“The community doesn’t like outsiders?” I ask her. “Not even other shifters?”
Foxy sighs. She reaches a finger into her drink and stirs. The liquid spins around and she watches it for just a moment before turning back to me.
“The thing about loss,” she tells me. “Is that it strikes you when you aren’t expecting it. Loss comes and when it does, it steals everything from you. It takes more than you could possibly understand or know. The biggest problem is that when you lose someone, you lose more than that person. You lose a little bit of yourself and sometimes, that takes a really, really long time to get back.”
I look over at the bartender.
“Who did she lose?” I ask, understanding what Foxy is trying to tell me.
“That’s not my story to share,” she says.
“I respect that.”
“But be patient,” Foxy says. She stands and grabs her glass. She turns to head back to the other side of the bar, but she stops momentarily and touches me on the shoulder. “She’s a good woman, Robert. She’s worth fighting for.”
Chapter 3
Meredith
By the time the bar closes, I’m tired, worn out, and ready to sleep. Still, I have to wipe off all of the counters, close out my register, and do the dishes. I usually lock the doors around two, but tonight I don’t manage to actually leave the bar until almost three. Luckily, I live pretty close. After I lock up, I slide my arms into my coat and head down the little street.
Claw Valley is a tiny place. The one main road holds everything you need to live a comfortable and simple life: a grocery store, a post office, a library, and a school. The bar is located just off the main road. It’s down a little side alley. The average driver wouldn’t even know to look for the bar, but local residents can find the watering hole without much difficulty.
That’s kind of the idea.
I head down the road to my home, which is located about fifteen minutes from the bar. At least, when I go on foot, it is.
And I almost always go on foot.
It’s not just because it’s a greener way to live, although that does play a large role. No, I also like that it gives me time to unwind after work. I love getting home and having a glass of wine. I love curling up with a book and relaxing with my cats and just enjoying myself, but the reality is that my job can be pretty demanding.
Having those fifteen minutes to just be alone in the silence, to feel the cool evening air on my face, and to just be means a lot.
When I reach the little burgundy house, I stop and look up at it. The two-story home is much too big for one person, but then again, it hasn’t always just been me living here. I bought it so that my mom could live comfortably with me in her old age. That was the plan, anyway. Fate kind of stole her away from me, if I’m honest, and I didn’t get to see her grow old.
She didn’t get to truly and totally enjoy the house.
Now it’s just me and Hedgehog, my cat. Mr. Whiskers, my mother’s cat, also lives with me. Hedgehog and Mr. Whiskers are the best of friends, and although they pretend to hate each other, the reality is that they can’t.
Not really.
They’re sitting in the front window and see me almost instantly. They both start meowing like crazy and clawing at the glass.
“All right, all right,” I mutter. I fidget, trying to get my keys, and I finally yank them out and unlock the door. Instantly, both cats barrel through the living room and jump into my arms. I hug them, holding them tightly.
Yeah, it’s safe to say that I miss them, too.
“Let’s get you some food,” I murmur, and they both leap down and hurry into the kitchen. I drop my keys on the entry table, lock the front door, and kick off my shoes. Then I go into my kitchen, which is much too big for just one person, and I start rummaging around for some food. Eventually, I find some kitty treats to give the cats. While they’re munching on those, I make myself a couple of scrambled eggs, top them with shredded cheese, and start eating.
Only, it’s a tasteless snack because I can’t stop thinking about my night.
It’s not that anything went particularly badly or strangely. It didn’t. The night was overall very boring and ordinary. I mean, it’s the middle of the week, so it was honestly a really slow night, but I can’t shake Foxy’s words from my head.
Is she right?
Is it time for me to start dating?
And should I try out this so-called Team Shifter app?
Meeting the new guy was actually kind of exciting. He was so damn handsome and he seemed really friendly. I probably should have given him my number, but I still don’t want to take a risk when it comes to meeting someone new. I don’t really want to fall for an outsider. Not after everything I’ve gone thr
ough.
Nope.
I don’t have to date someone I know, but they need to at least be semi-local. They need to have a reputation with people around me so that I can make sure I’m not getting in over my head.
“I’m overthinking this,” I say to Hedgehog, who is rubbing against my legs as I sit at the counter.
He purrs in response, and I sigh.
“You know what?” I shake my head. “I’m being ridiculous. It’s just an app, right? I can’t live my life worrying about what could go wrong. I need to worry about what could go right instead.”
I grab my phone off the counter and install the app. Then I stare at it for a long, hard minute. Eggs forgotten, I start to fill out the create an account information. I share my name. I include my real name, which might be a mistake, but that’s okay. Birthdate? That’s easy. Type of shifter? Um...
I hesitate for just a minute before including that information, as well. If this works as well as Foxy seems to think that it will, then before I know it, I’ll be drowning with potential shifters who want to date me.
That’s the plan, right?
I don’t really know if I want to get married. I don’t know if I want kids. I don’t know much of anything except that I want to feel sexy and good about myself, and I don’t want to be alone all of the time. I think Foxy is right. Yeah. The more I think about it, the more I know she’s right, so I finish filling out my profile, and then it’s time to start swiping.
So I swipe.
The first profile I see shows the word BEAR at the top of it. There’s no picture. That’s the entire point. You won’t see someone’s picture at all because this app is supposed to take away the element of love at first sight. Instead, you’re supposed to fall in love with the way they act and the way they believe.
You’re supposed to fall in love because they’re worth loving: not because they’re super hot.
I mean, I still hope I find someone super hot.
It’s just that physical appearance isn’t the primary purpose of this particular app.
The description beneath BEAR tells me a little bit of information about this person:
Male. 29. Likes hunting, fishing, jogging.
“Hmm,” I look over at Mr. Whiskers. “What do you think?”
He stares at me, blinking.
I swipe “yes” and keep going. Who knows? Maybe he’ll match with me and we’ll be able to have some fun conversations together. Not everything has to lead to sex or a relationship. It’s completely fine to have some fun and just get to know people.
The next profile that comes up says DEER.
Female. 34. Likes dancing, reading, jogging.
“A lot of these people like jogging,” I mutter, and I swipe “yes.” It’s been awhile since I dated a woman. That could be fun. Besides, jogging isn’t really that bad, is it?
Yeah, it’s fucking awful. I shake my head, but it’s too late now. It’s okay, though. What are the chances of me matching with someone who wants to go jogging on our first date, anyway? That sounds like something we can worry about later.
Way later.
The next few people I all swipe “yes” to. There’s a bear who likes traveling. There’s a wolf who likes camping. There are a couple of shifters who enjoy going to bars. I wonder how many of these people I’ve seen in my bar. What am I going to do if that’s where I get invited for my first date through the app? Obviously, I’ll have to gently suggest another location, but that’s okay.
I swipe for a few more minutes and stare at my phone. Nothing happens, though. How long is it supposed to take to get a match?
Frustrated and tired, I reach for a glass of water and sip. Then I look over at my cats.
“At least I tried?” I ask, but they don’t say anything. They just look at me like I’m crazy, and I kind of feel like I am.
Finally, I head upstairs to my bedroom, plug my phone into the charger, and go into my bathroom. I start the shower and let the water just pour over me.
Tomorrow, I tell myself, things will be different.
Tomorrow.
When I get out of the shower, I check my phone on a whim and find that I have a match with a bear.
Interesting.
I’ve never dated a bear before. Other wolves? Yes. Foxes? Sure. Hell, I’ve even dated an eagle, but a bear?
I don’t know why, but it’s just never happened. Not that I’m opposed to bears. I’m not. Not by any means, but there’s something a little bit intimidating about bears. As a wolf, I’m fast and I’m sleek and I can sniff out just about anything, but a bear is...just big.
Bears are strong in ways I can’t possibly imagine, if only by their brute force.
And there’s a bear who wants to talk to me.
“You can do this,” I tell myself. Tonight is all about second chances, and third chances, and moving forward. Tonight is about forward motion. I can’t let myself get stuck in the trap of believing that I’m never going to find someone. Isn’t that what Foxy was talking about? She doesn’t want me to be trapped.
So I open up the app.
Since we’ve matched, there’s an option to chat now. We still can’t send pictures. That sort of thing is supposed to come later, I guess, after we’ve met in person. I’m a little surprised to see that there’s a message for me.
BEAR: Good morning, Miss Wolf.
It’s not a great line, and it’s not really enough to catch my interest, normally, but hey, maybe it’s this guy’s first time on the app, too.
WOLF: Hello, Mr. Bear.
I pause a minute before adding.
WOLF: What’s a girl have to do to get a bear hug around here?
Instantly, I can see that he’s typing.
BEAR: Careful, little wolf. You don’t want to tease bears you’ve never met.
WOLF: Maybe I do.
BEAR: Why would a pretty little wolf do a thing like that?
WOLF: It sounds like fun. Don’t you like teasing or being teased?
BEAR: That depends.
WOLF: On what?
BEAR: On whether it’s with the right person.
I stare at my phone for a long minute. Okay, so maybe this conversation is going a little differently than I expected. I’m not really sure what I thought I was getting into. I guess I figured we’d have a polite conversation about our hobbies or our jobs. Not that I would ever admit what my job is. There are so few bars around that it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who I am.
WOLF: And what makes someone the right person?
BEAR: I know we all have our own ideas, but for me, it would be someone who is kind and caring.
WOLF: That’s what you’re looking for on this app? Kind and caring? Wouldn’t it be better to go meet someone at like, church?
BEAR: There’s nothing wrong with meeting someone at church, but I’m looking for someone who isn’t afraid to try new things. This app? It’s very new for me.
WOLF: Me too.
I’m surprised at my own honesty.
I’m not usually the type of person who admits right away that I’m new at something or that I’m out of my element. After all, the entire reason people love bartenders is that we’re so very confident in what we’re doing.
We’re happy and at ease.
We make people feel comfortable in ways other people don’t. That’s why someone can walk into a bar, order a drink, and immediately start telling their life story. Bartenders make great therapists.
At least, we like to think that we do.
Against my better judgment, perhaps, I keep talking to the Bear. Maybe I shouldn’t. Once we get going, I learn a lot about him. He likes hiking and running. Of course, he does. He’s a bear. He also likes painting, though, and he spends a lot of his free time working on artistic projects.
That surprises me a little.
A guy who isn’t afraid to be a little bit sensitive?
That’s kind of nice, actually.
After awhile, I realize that the sun i
s coming up, and I should probably get some sleep.
Wolf: It’s late.
Bear: I think you mean it’s early.
Wolf: The sun is coming up.
Bear: And I’m so happy I got to spend the whole night talking to you.
A shiver of excitement rushes through me.
I liked it, too.
Oh, I liked it so much more than I should have, I think. Talking to this guy gave me a total thrill. It was wonderful. It was really nice to be around someone who makes me feel like I’m important. Besides, because there were no pictures exchanged, I can tell that he likes me based on who I am and not what I look like.
But there is a burning curiosity in me to know more about him, so I take a deep breath, and I shoot my shot.
Wolf: I’d love to do it again.
Wolf: In person.
Bear: Name the place.
Wolf: Do you know the clearing to the south of town where the waterfall is?
Bear: I’m sure I can find it.
Wolf: 8PM?
Bear: It’s a date.
Wolf: Remember that you have to come in your animal form. That’s the deal.
Bear: I won’t forget.
Wolf: See that you don’t.
