The Bobcat's Tate

by Georgette St. Clair

  “I met you ten minutes ago,” Lainey protested. “Are you seriously checking out my rack?”

  “Yes, but it’s strictly professional. I’m not that way inclined. You saw my fiancé, Henry. He pushes all the right buttons. Literally.” She flashed another evil grin. “All right, makeup. I can be your makeup artist. I’m thinking a smoky eye—”

  “Stop.” Lainey held up her hand in protest. “I am not going to a wedding that I haven’t been invited to, and I am not hiring you. I don’t need a love psychic. I am done with men, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to hear about it. People who say they don’t need a love psychic are exactly the people who need them most. And I am offering my services for free. You should be thankful. People pay me good money to help them find their fated mate.”

  Lainey took a healthy swig of her mint julep and realized she’d drained the glass.

  “Careful,” Marigold said. “Those things pack a wallop.”

  “Pour me another one, and it might even sound like you’re making sense.” Lainey held out her glass. Marigold poured again, but only half-full this time.

  Lainey took another sip, and the sweet liquid warmed her like a well-stoked fire. “So, I’ll bite. Who’s my fated mate?” As she asked, a picture of Tate Calloway flashed through her mind, and she realized that she was actually hoping Marigold would say his name.

  Right. The jerk who thought she was a tiara thief, who’d pretended to flirt with her so he could pump her for…information, unfortunately.

  “I don’t know yet,” Marigold said. “My powers don’t always reveal everything to me right away.”

  “Of course not,” Lainey grumbled cynically. “That would be much too easy.”

  “Okay, I think you’d look good in a peach tone,” Marigold continued, surveying Lainey with a clinical gaze.

  “Aren’t you going to suggest a girdle and a crash diet?”

  “Heavens, no. Why would I want to disguise a figure like that? Guys around here love bigger women. Look at Ginger. She and I showed up in town a year ago, and immediately she got snapped up by the Alpha, the most eligible bachelor in the county. It’s a good thing he moved fast, because everybody was sniffing after her.”

  “Really?”

  “True story. Your figure is your fortune. Eat a sandwich, will you?” Marigold shoved a sandwich into her hands, and Lainey leaned back in her seat and bit into it. The chicken salad was creamy and delicious, with just the right amount of crunchy celery. Even better, nobody was glaring at her as if she were committing a sin by enjoying her lunch. “I’m going to go call Ginger and make sure she’s not freaking out about the Cypress Woods Witch and her tiara being stolen and all that jazz. Don’t go anywhere. I’m not done deciding what you’re going to wear.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m already officially too tipsy to drive,” Lainey said, around a mouthful of sandwich. “I’m a cheap date.”

  She leaned back in her chair and nursed her mint julep as Marigold headed inside the house.This was certainly unexpected. She’d come seeking peace and quiet, not crazy schemes and wandering witches and a town where all of the inhabitants seemed to have escaped from the same lunatic asylum.

  Oddly, that didn’t bother her as much as it should, since the residents of the lunatic asylum were plying her with delicious mint juleps and obscenely good sandwiches. The old Lainey would have absolutely refused to crash a stranger’s wedding in pursuit of some nameless mystery man. The old Lainey would have been petrified of her family’s reaction to such an appalling breach of etiquette. The new Lainey/Kat/whoever-she-was-now was shocked to realize that she was seriously considering letting Marigold talk her into this harebrained idea.

  Imogen stuck her head out the back door. “Do you know Tate Calloway? He just called to find out if you checked in here.”

  Ouch, Lainey thought, straightening up in her chair. He actually hadn’t believed her when she’d said she was checking into Imogen’s boarding house? He was probably ready to put out an APB on her car. He probably thought she was halfway to Georgia by now, with a tiara tucked in her purse. Jerk. Double jerk.

  Fine. I will let Marigold sneak me into someone else’s wedding and even though fated mates aren’t real, I’ll at least have fun and flirt like crazy. Take that, Tater-head.

  Chapter Three

  “Everything in Blue Moon Junction tastes so delicious,” Lainey said, tucking into a fluffy pile of eggs. They’d skipped breakfast at the boarding house, and instead Marigold had dragged her into town to meet Ginger at a small Main Street diner called the Henhouse.

  “There’s something about country cooking,” Ginger agreed.

  “It’s very nice of you to come meet us the week before your wedding,” Lainey said. “You must be incredibly busy.”

  “Actually, any chance to escape my darling mother is a blessing. I mean that with love, but she’s turned into a mother-of-the-bride-zilla, not that I expected any less. She’s been planning this since I was born. Probably before that. I can see her doing the wedding planning in utero.”

  “Me, too,” Marigold agreed. She was eyeing Ginger’s last piece of cinnamon toast. “Are you going to eat that?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed it off Ginger’s plate.

  “Yes, I was, actually,” Ginger groused. “You stole my toast. That’s at least a misdemeanor, and I’m marrying the county sheriff.”

  Marigold mumbled something around her mouthful of stolen toast. Lainey couldn’t make it out, but it sounded insulting.

  Ginger turned to Lainey. “I hope Marigold hasn’t been talking your ear off.”

  “Well, a little. I practically feel as if I know you, she’s talked about you so much.”

  Ginger laughed. “Just ignore about 90 percent of what she says. She’s certifiably crazy.”

  Lainey put her fork down. “Oh, my God, you noticed it, too?”

  “How could I not? We’ve been friends for like eight years. Marigold is nutso. Wackadoodle. Cra. Zee. But it’s fun to watch.”

  “I know, right? It’s kind of like being in a romantic comedy, and she’s the ditsy friend who drags everyone into all kinds of crazy shenanigans, which everyone barely survives.”

  “Most of the time, they do,” Ginger nodded.

  “Hey, I’m sitting right here,” Marigold said. “I can hear you!”

  “So, you’ve got good hearing. You’re still crazy.” Ginger tucked into her gooey, golden cheese omelet.

  Laine was startled when Marigold tapped her fingernail on the placemat, jerking her out of her daze. “Hmmm,” she said. “That’s a nice picture of Ginger.”

  “Oh, heck! Pardon me..” Lainey looked at Ginger apologetically. “It’s just a nervous habit. I always—”

  “That’s it!” Marigold shouted suddenly, slapping her hand on the table. Other diners paused to stare at her, then turned back to their meals.

  Lainey and Ginger glanced at each other.

  “Told ya. Certifiably crazy,” Ginger said, and went back to eating her omelet as if Marigold did that kind of thing every day.

  She probably does.

  “Ginger, see how beautiful her sketches are? Kat needs to come to the wedding to do sketches that you can put in your wedding album. She could sketch you and Loch, the maids of honor, the groomsmen, the wedding cake, the grounds of the mansion…oh, my God, I’m such a genius.” Marigold clapped her hands together gleefully.

  Ginger took a closer look at the sketch as Lainey poked at her eggs, trying not to be self-conscious. Lainey always drew with a light, quick touch; the picture had curlicue filigrees on it, and she’d sketched Ginger with big, sparkling eyes.

  “That is very pretty,” Ginger said.

  “We should go out to the wedding site today, see how everything’s coming along. I have a feeling we’re needed there. Never argue with a psychic,” she added as Lainey started to protest.

  “I’ll come with you. I was headed over there anyway t
o meet my mother. Lainey, if you could come to the wedding to do sketches, I would love that. I’ll have my mother cut you a check. Here, I’m taking the placemat to show her.” Ginger tucked it in her purse.

  “You don’t have to pay me,” Lainey protested.

  “Of course we’ll pay you.” Ginger turned to Marigold. “We should go. My mother has a full day of driving me crazy scheduled, and we wouldn’t to disappoint her, would we?”

  “Oh, look,” Marigold said as they stood up. “Your handsome husband-to-be is here.”

  Loch had just pulled in to the parking lot. Lainey found herself looking to see if anyone was with him, like, for instance, a handsome wolf shifter…and she was annoyed at how disappointed she was to see that Tate was nowhere in sight.

  When they walked outside, Loch threw his arms around Ginger and pulled her close in a tight embrace.

  “My very own stalker,” Ginger said affectionately. “We’re just headed over to the Beaudreau mansion. I was thinking of hitching a ride with a hot stranger. Do you happen to know any?”

  “Hmm, hot stranger fantasies. I think I can oblige,” Loch said, planting a lingering kiss on his fiancée’s full lips.

  “Eww, get a room,” Marigold groaned. Lainey had parked her rented car behind Marigold’s, so Marigold tugged on her sleeve and they headed toward their cars. “Come on. Let’s leave before they do it right here in the parking lot.”

  “Why did you need all the subterfuge about me doing sketches at the wedding? Why not just tell Ginger that you had some kind of psychic vision and I needed to be there?”

  “That’s not how these things work,” Marigold said.

  “How, exactly, do these things work?”

  But Marigold was ignoring her. “Oh, crud,” she said irritably. “That’s Aurora Sinclair.”

  The woman Lainey had glimpsed when she’d first arrived in town was walking towards Loch and Ginger in a determined fashion. By her side was a wolf shifter who appeared to be in his fifties, and there were several people trailing them. All wolf shifters, Lainey could tell by their scent. The group came to a stop just a few feet away from Ginger.

  “The Sinclairs. Those a-holes,” Marigold muttered, and she changed directions to return to Ginger’s side. Lainey followed her, as Loch, scowling, stepped forward.

  “She brought the whole gang,” Ginger said softly, looking unhappy.

  “That guy is Quincy Sinclair, Alpha of the Sinclair pack,” Marigold whispered to Lainey. “They’re all pissed off because Quincy wanted his niece, Portia, to marry Loch, but Loch wasn’t interested. They went out on a couple of dates, so Loch tried to be nice about breaking things off, but she pretty much started stalking him. When he proposed to Ginger, Portia actually went around telling everyone that Loch had proposed to her first and then cheated on her with Ginger. Total lie. Now Portia’s boo-hooing that she’s too devastated to come to the wedding, which is actually a good thing because she’d probably try to sabotage it.”

  An older woman, slim and pretty with her hair cut in a severe bob, stood next to Quincy, scowling at Loch.

  “Who’s that?” Ginger asked.

  “Cornelia, Portia’s mother. Thinks she’s a big shot because her brother’s the Alpha for their lame-ass pack.”

  Lainey hoped they couldn’t hear Marigold. There was little chance they’d miss how Marigold glared at them, though.

  Loch was standing directly between the Sinclair family and Ginger, his forehead creased in a frown. “We already discussed this yesterday,” Loch said to Aurora.

  Quincy was carrying a briefcase, from which he pulled a sheet of paper. He handed it to Loch. “We have spoken to everyone from my family who’s in town, and they have provided their whereabouts on the night in question. I should note that we do this under protest, and we consider this a deliberate insult to our family’s good name. For the sake of peace between our two packs, we are willing to overlook the insult. This time. We may not be so forgiving in the future.”

  “If you want to issue a Death Challenge, you know where to find me, any time, day or night,” Loch said coldly. “Why wait? We can get down to business right here in the parking lot.”

  Quincy swallowed hard. Loch was a big man, packed with muscles, with a dangerous energy crackling around him with every step that he took. Quincy was also a large, solidly built man, and he didn’t appear to be a pushover—he couldn’t have been an Alpha if he were—but he was clearly outmatched.

  “That won’t be necessary at this time,” Quincy said, his face flushing. Lainey could tell he was still trying to save face and talk tough, but he was failing badly. He took a step back, and hung his head submissively, glowering at the ground. The family members who came with him all looked as if they’d just taken a big gulp of sour milk.

  “I appreciate the Hooperation with our investigation,” Loch said in a calm, even tone. “We have asked hundreds of people to tell us their whereabouts on the night in question. As you well know, if I declined to question the entire Sinclair family, it would raise a lot of eyebrows, and it would be perceived as either favoritism or fear on my part. We’ll get back to you if we have any more questions.”

  He turned to walk away, but Aurora called out, “Wait.”

  Loch turned back. “What?”

  “Given what the Cypress Woods Witch said, I think you should call off the wedding for now. Maybe permanently.” Aurora stood tall, eyes blazing, staring at Loch defiantly.

  Ginger gasped in outrage, and Loch let out a warning growl. His eyes glowed with anger, and Lainey saw hair sprout on his face and the back of his hands. Bones rippled in his face, and black claws shot from his fingertips.

  “Everyone’s talking about it. The Cypress Woods Witch spoke to a visitor, and she said that the wedding shouldn’t take place, and everyone would be in danger if they attended. I’m sorry, Loch, but it appears as if I’ve been right along and this wedding simply isn’t meant to be.” Lainey thought her smile looked poisonous, although her tone was wheedling.

  “That’s interesting,” Loch ground out, “because the last time the Cypress Woods Witch spoke out, you said that she was crazy and nobody ever took her seriously. That was when a rogue shifter was killing local farmer’s sheep, and she warned everyone to beware the J wolf. Then it turned out that your cousin Jarrod was the rogue wolf. Remember that?”

  Aurora’s smile was still pasted on tight, but her dark obsidian eyes glittered with anger. “Nonetheless, if you care anything about the safety of your town and your wedding guests, you should—”

  This was just too much. Lainey stepped forward. “Hey!” she snapped. “That’s not what the Cypress Witch said at all.”

  Aurora’s smile vanished, and she swung on Lainey with a growl, her face lengthening into a snout and her ears turning pointy.

  Lainey stood her ground, her own ears turning pointy with tufts of fur sprouting from them, sharp claws springing from her fingertips. Her fangs shot out of her gums, and she let out a feline hiss of warning.

  Aurora snarled. “Who do you think you are, to speak to me this way, you mangy cat? Do you know who I am?”

  “I’m the visitor who actually spoke to the Cypress Woods Witch, and she didn’t say a damn thing about calling off the wedding. You might want to verify your facts before you run around spouting crazy gossip. She said beware the wolf in sheep’s clothing, and there would be a dark cloud. She actually told me I’d be going to the wedding. She didn’t say it should be called off.”

  Aurora stood perfectly still for a moment, raw fury radiating off her in waves. Then she shot a dirty look at Loch. “Go ahead and hold the wedding, and put everyone’s lives in peril. We’ll still attend. Perhaps we’ll be able to save some of the lives that you put in danger with your foolishness.”

  Then the Sinclairs turned and walked away.

  Loch hugged Ginger, who was shaking.

  “Ginger, she’s just a crazy, power-hungry bitch,” Marigold said. “Don’t let her get to you. Yo
ur wedding day will be beautiful. You’re marrying Mr. Hot Stuff here. How could your wedding be anything less than awesome?”

  Ginger took a deep breath and then let it out. “I’m fine,” she said, with the slightest quaver in her voice. “I guess it wouldn’t be Blue Moon Junction without drama, would it?”

  * * *

  The wedding was being held at the Beaudreau mansion, a nineteenth-century Georgian Revival building which sprawled over a huge estate on the north end of Blue Moon Junction, right outside the city limits. The wedding itself would take place in the main building, and the reception was being held in one of the other houses on the property, a mansion in its own right which had belonged to the Beaudreau family’s daughter.

  “It’s lovely,” Lainey said, staring at the massive red-brick home with two-story-high white Corinthian columns framing the enormous front double doors. The doors were topped with an ornate triangular pediment with little carved wooden cupids in it. “Good lord, you could drive a horse and carriage through those doors.”

  “I know, right? Alpha weddings are so over the top. I’m glad my fiancé’s a beta.” Marigold turned back to Lainey. “You should walk around and get to know everybody while you do your sketches. Your fated mate could be here now.”

  “Alright, already. You can’t follow me around, though. You’re making me nervous.”

  Marigold shrugged and walked over to Ginger, who’d just arrived with Loch.

  The grounds were huge, and there were crews of men all over the place. Electricians, landscapers, handymen…

  This is ridiculous. How would I figure out if any of these men were my fated mate, if such a thing even exists? I’ll just walk around and check out the scenery for a while, and tell Marigold I gave it my best shot.

  She wandered around the outside of the main mansion, admiring the landscaping. Hundreds of flowers sat out in little round plastic pots, ready to be planted around a gazebo that was under construction.

  Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out, grimacing. She really should have left the phone back at the hotel instead of bringing it with her.