Shiftr_Swipe Left for Love_Frankie

by Ariana Hawkes

  “No,” he said flatly .

  “But, why? You worked on my flowerbeds even though you’re not a gardener. Why can’t you make out we’re together, just for a few days ?”

  “Because it’s a lie, Selma .”

  She stared at him, shocked by the firmness in his tone. “But it’s a harmless one .”

  He shook his head hard, like an animal ridding itself of a persistent fly. “I don’t tell lies. I can’t stand them. So much of my life has already been ruined by other people’s lies that it’s not a path I’m willing to go down .”

  “B-but it’s a lie that will help me out a lot. It’s a white lie. And I’ll pay you whatever you ask .”

  “No, Selma. The answer is no.” He picked up the photo, tore it into four pieces, and stuffed it in his back pocket. Then he held his hand out. “Show me the photos on your phone .”

  Obediently, she opened the photo app and handed it over. Shame coiled in her stomach. She’d taken at least half a dozen different poses. He snorted as he scrolled through, repeatedly hitting delete .

  He gave it back to her at last with a sigh that was almost a groan. “I’m a very private person. You’ve got to understand that .”

  She nodded. “I do now .”

  “Can we settle up for the work I’ve done on your shed and the garden ?”

  “Sure thing.” She went to the desk where she kept her financial stuff, picked up her check book, and wrote out a check for the full amount they’d agreed on. He took it from her, folded it, and stuffed it in his back pocket, then he went back into the garden to collect his tools. She watched him from the kitchen doorway as he passed on his way out to his car .

  “I’ll let you know whether I’ll have time to work on your gazebo in the coming days,” he said .

  Her stomach plummeted, and her lips parted, on the point of trying to persuade him. But she clamped them shut again. She never knew when to shut up to save herself .

  He opened the wrought-iron garden gate, and he was gone. She realized she was shaking. She’d upset him. Way more than she ever would’ve imagined. He didn’t even want to be her carpenter any more. Even by her own standards, she’d really surpassed herself this time .

  2

  “I ’ll be damned,” Frankie muttered to himself as he negotiated Hope Valley’s late afternoon traffic in his ancient, dark-gray Chevy Lumina. He’d been working for Selma for ten days now, and there’d been a few times when he’d turned around in the midst of nailing boards or digging up earth, and there she’d been, phone in hand, big gray eyes flashing guiltily. But he’d thought she was checking up on him, making sure he wasn’t butchering her shrubs. It’d never crossed his mind she was stealing his image. Who’d ever heard of such a thing ?

  And pretending that I was her boyfriend? He laughed out loud. Five minutes ago, he’d been all shaken up. But now the whole thing seemed funny as hell. She was cute. More than cute. That sweet, curvy body of hers had gotten his bear panting every time he laid eyes on her. And any time she bent over to do something and the edge of her shirt lifted to reveal a swatch of soft flesh, it had been all he could do to stop it from purring. But she was the ditsiest female he’d ever met, bar none .

  “What kind of a person would pretend to have a boyfriend anyway?” he muttered as he turned onto the highway that would bring him to the edge of the national park where he lived. He’d been single all his adult life, and he didn’t see any reason to hide that from anyone. Most of his clan had found their mates already, through Shiftr, a dating app that connected shape shifter guys with beautiful, curvy human women. Connor, the clan’s alpha and his older brother, insisted they all had a profile. But Frankie had never found a match above seventy-five percent, and he was secretly glad. He knew there was nobody out there for him .

  And he was happy with his life the way it was, hanging with his clan and their mates and playing with their little cubs who all called him Uncle Frankie. He wasn’t mating material, he knew that. If he ever felt the need to question his singledom he thought of his dad—his weak, cheating, lying alcoholic dad—locked up in a psychiatric unit. And he promised himself he’d stay single forever. As far as he was concerned, mating led to ruin—for both him and whichever female was unlucky enough to be his chosen one .

  Nope. The last thing he was going to do was become Selma’s boyfriend-for-hire. That chick was as crazy as a box of snakes. And whatever was wrong with her life wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in. He should probably tell her he couldn’t work on the gazebo. It was a shame though—it looked like an interesting project for his woodcarving skills .

  A s Frankie swung his car onto his driveway from the dirt track that ran through the forest, he caught sight of Connor sitting out on his porch three cabins away, carving away at a smallish piece of wood .

  “Back early, bro?” Connor called as Frankie climbed out of the low-slung driver’s seat and slammed the door shut with a clunk and groan of hinges. He didn’t care that his car was a heap of junk. His bike was his real passion. A gleaming black Triumph Bonneville cruiser with a big, growly 1200cc engine and a single seat because he didn’t take passengers—ever. He would’ve preferred to ditch the car altogether, but a lot of his tools were too big to fit in his bike panniers .

  “Yeah.” Frankie ran his hand through his messy hair as he approached Connor’s cabin. “I’m finished working for that lady .”

  “Oh?” Connor frowned, his serious expression indicating he was deep in business mode. “I thought you said she had a couple more things for you to do ?”

  Frankie puffed out his cheeks, climbed Connor’s porch steps, and flopped down on one of his wooden recliners. “Well, the kind of service she was looking for isn’t something I’m at liberty to provide .”

  Connor shot him a sideways look and snorted. “What are you saying? She been asking you for a lap dance or something? An action replay of the Bear Heat strip show?” he asked, referring to the charity stripping tour the bears had done a while back .

  “Ha. Not exactly. If that’s all she wanted, I’d happily have taken my clothes off .”

  At that moment, Lauren came out of the cabin, carrying her and Connor’s three-year-old daughter, Willow, on her hip .

  “Uncle Frankie!” Willow yelled and wriggled out of Lauren’s grasp before running over to him and scrambling onto his lap .

  “Ow! Willow! You’re killing me, you big beast!” he yelled in mock agony while she giggled and clambered all over him as if he was a climbing wall in a gym. He put up with it for a while, then he pinned her down and tickled her tummy, making her squirm and shriek in delight. When he released her, she stopped moving and wrinkled her nose .

  “You smell like flowers and a lady’s perfume,” she said .

  He screwed up his face. “Aren’t you too young to be making these observations ?”

  She blinked at him, trying to process his words .

  “Shifter kids. I swear she’s more like an average six year old,” Lauren commented, leaning against the front door frame, gazing at her daughter indulgently. “Willow, why don’t you offer your uncle Frankie a nice cold drink? Looks like he’s had a tough day .”

  “Do you want some Mountain Dew?” Willow asked, holding onto both sides of Frankie’s face and staring into his eyes, a very solemn expression in her huge brown ones. Since Lauren had large black eyes and Connor’s were deep brown, Frankie could never figure out which parent she’d got her eyes from .

  He stuck his tongue out then pulled a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Yuck. No thanks. It’s way too sweet .”

  “That’s what my mom says. I’m only allowed it on special occasions .”

  He tousled her messy brown curls. “That’s because she’s a very smart lady. You got any ice tea ?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I think so. Lemme go check.” When she scrambled off his lap, he winced as her hands and feet dug into the bare flesh of his thighs. Then she scampered inside, Lauren in tow
.

  Connor took a deep sniff in Frankie’s direction. “You know, you do smell like a lady’s perfume. You and that chick been getting friendly in the flowerbeds ?”

  Frankie rolled his eyes. “Nope. No way. She’s crazy. Crazy as a wasp in a jar .”

  Connor pulled himself up from his reclining position, eyes sparkling with interest. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or will I have to let Willow tickle it out of you ?”

  Frankie groaned. “I caught her taking photos of me, and she says it’s because she wants to make out I’m her boyfriend .”

  “What?” Connor roared with laughter .

  Lauren returned with a tray of ice teas, Willow trying her best to carry it too, but hindering far more than she was helping. Lauren handed a drink to Frankie and Connor, then gave Willow her own drink in a red cup with a sipping spout. “There you go, honey. Why don’t you go play with your new car set while mommy and daddy talk work with Uncle Frankie ?”

  “Okay,” Willow said and trotted over to the other side of the porch where a jumble of her toys lay .

  Connor leapt to his feet and pulled up a chair for Lauren, and she settled into it with a contended sigh .

  “What am I missing?” she said .

  “Frankie’s telling us how he’s got himself a new girlfriend,” Connor said .

  “Stop,” Frankie said in a low, growly voice. “The lady I’ve been doing some work for over in Hope Valley wants me to pretend to be her boyfriend. That’s all .”

  “That’s all,” Connor echoed. “No big deal .”

  Lauren’s eyes sparkled. “A good-looking guy like you, Frankie, you can’t blame her for wishing you were her boyfriend. But why does she want you to pretend ?”

  He groaned. “Who knows? She’s crazy. She’s even been taking photos of me and having them printed out to show people at her job .”

  “Woah. That’s pretty serious,” Lauren exclaimed .

  Connor raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like she’s got something to hide .”

  “Yeah. A big fat lie that she told about having a boyfriend, or still being in a relationship or something .”

  Lauren pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “Who is she again ?”

  “Her name’s Selma. She got our details from her friend Kenzie who’s mated to a wolf shifter .”

  “Oh, Nash’s mate. I know them,” Connor said .

  “Selma…petite girl with bouncy brown curls, cute dimples in her cheeks, big gray eyes. Lots of energy?” Lauren added .

  “Sounds like the right one,” Frankie said in a pained tone .

  “She came to one of our barbecues last year. She’s a nice girl.” Lauren squeezed Frankie’s knee. “Maybe a little playful for you, but lots of fun. I wonder what her deal is.” She laid a finger across her lip. “Oh…wait a minute. I think Kenzie told me she had a boyfriend. Things seemed to be going real well—he even popped the L-word. But one day, when they were supposed to be going away on a romantic weekend, he broke it off with no explanation .”

  Connor blew out a puff of air. “That’s rough .”

  “I know. According to Kenzie, the guy was a bit of a douche, but he was Selma’s first boyfriend, and it hit her hard .”

  Frankie frowned and cracked his knuckles. “What an A-hole .”

  Lauren nodded. “Yup. You know the worst part? She’d only just signed up to Shiftr .”

  Frankie’s frown deepened. “He was a shifter?” He bristled. “No shifter I know would break up with a woman once he said he loved her .”

  Lauren pretended to flinch at the loudness of his voice. “No, he’s human, I think. They just happened to meet and start dating right after she signed up to the app .”

  “Well, there you go. That explains it.” Frankie didn’t have a great opinion of human men in general. They were weak, and he’d observed they often didn’t treat their women right .

  “So she’s embarrassed for her friends to know she’s single. Maybe she has an event to attend or something,” Lauren mused. “I think you should do it, Frankie-bear. It’s not going to kill you, is it ?”

  Frankie threw her a look of disapproval. “No, you know how I feel about lying .”

  “I sure do.” She grinned at him, and he knew she was mocking him gently. “But didn’t you just work on Selma’s garden even though you’re not a gardener ?”

  “Yup. But the difference is, I didn’t go announce to her neighbors that I was a gardener .”

  Connor cocked an eyebrow. “So if Mrs. Scuttlebutt next door sticks her head over the fence and asks if you’re the gardener, you’d say ‘No, ma’am, I’m a carpenter by trade, but I just happen to be working as a gardener right this moment.” Or you’d say, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ just to get rid of her ?”

  “I might,” Frankie replied testily. “It depends .”

  “Maybe it would help if you thought of yourself as an actor instead of a liar?” Lauren said .

  Frankie stayed silent, thoughts brewing. He was aware that his obsession with telling the truth could make him a little pedantic sometimes .

  “I think you should help her out. She’s a good girl, and she got royally screwed over by that guy,” Lauren continued .

  “I don’t know. It just doesn’t sit right with me,” he said. He was silent for a while, staring up into the canopy of trees that fronted the cabins. Then he let off a frustrated rumble. “But I guess I can go back and finish the work on her garden .”

  “Atta boy,” Connor said, slapping him on the thigh. He raised his voice so Willow could hear, too. “Now, who’s for a swim in the lake ?”

  “Me!” she yelled, raising her hand .

  “I’ll come as well,” Lauren said, and Connor’s eyes lit up. Frankie looked at them with affection. They were the definition of a loving couple. Many moons ago in their teens, he and Lauren had dated, and he’d messed it up in the worst way possible. But now she was with his older brother, and he was glad because Connor was perfect for her. He was happy for them, and not at all jealous of their relationship, but sometimes when he saw them interacting with each other, he got a feeling, deep in his gut, like a physical pain. He called it loneliness because he didn’t know what else to call it .

  After Lauren scooped up Willow and took them inside to get ready, Connor let out a deep roar that echoed around the cabins, calling the bears together. Niall and Ryzard turned up, but the rest of them were still out at work. Then the four clan members shifted into their bear forms. A couple of minutes later, Lauren and Willow arrived in their swimsuits and scrambled onto Connor’s broad brown back. Then they began to make the half-hour journey deep into the forest to the freshwater lake where they often swam and caught fish .

  * * *

  B y the time Frankie returned from the lake, his belly full of fresh fish, Selma had already messaged him twice, apologizing, and asking him if he could Please, please, come back and work on the gazebo . She promised she wouldn’t take photos of him or ask him to pretend to be her boyfriend again, and it was all accompanied by various emoticons that didn’t really make any sense—a deer, a flower, a sweet potato, some musical notes, and a smiley face with a halo on top. He couldn’t help smiling. Maybe he did need to lighten up a bit .

  He sent her a reply: Ok, I’ll finish the gazebo, but that’s all. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow . He couldn’t help smiling at the stream of unicorns, chickens and four-leaf clovers that she sent to him in return .

  T he next morning, he dressed in a pair of cut-off combat pants, a fresh, plain gray T-shirt, and his work boots, then drove to Selma’s place .

  He usually went through the side entrance that led directly into the garden, but she was waiting for him at the front door. She was wearing a tight red top tucked into a loose skirt with red and white vertical stripes. It looked nice, showing off her nipped-in waist and large breasts. “Hey, Frankie! Come inside,” she called. As he came closer, he saw she was wearing red lipstick, which made her full lips look even fuller and,
against his will, his cock twitched .

  He removed his boots and followed her into the house where a smell of fresh baking hit his nostrils. In the kitchen, a heaped plate of fresh blueberry muffins sat in the middle of the table, accompanied by a pot of coffee .

  She looked at him, hands twisting and eyes very wide. She sure looked pretty today. Bad images ran through his mind of sliding his hands up that skirt, of pulling her onto his lap and burying his face in the inch of cleavage that showed above the rounded neckline of her top. “You remind me of the circus,” he said without thinking .

  Her face crumpled. “That’s because I look like I’m wearing a circus tent, don’t I? That’s what Bert used to say .”

  “I-I meant it in a good way,” he stammered, regretting his words. “You look real nice .”

  “You mean that ?”

  He nodded and liked the way her eyes immediately lit up .

  “I like it, too. It’s called a swing skirt from the nineteen-fifties, which is my favorite era for clothes .

  “Why do you like to dress like you’re from another time ?”

  She shrugged. “My mom says it’s about escapism. I don’t want to confront who am I in the world today. But mainly I think it’s real feminine, more exciting than the styles nowadays .”

  “Is that why you do your hair like that?” He took a step closer, examining her hairstyle. Yesterday, her hair had been in loose, natural curls, hanging halfway down her back. Today the front part was in two big, smooth curls that looked liked they’d been molded, while the back was in a small bun. Without thinking, he reached out and touched the curls. They were stiff and brittle, and his hand shot back again .

  She giggled. “I have to sleep in curlers, then I pin them and fix them with hairspray. It’s a lot of effort, but I like it. I do it when I need a pick-me-up .”

  “I like your style,” he said, still not fully getting it, but appreciating that it meant something to her .

  “Anyway, I made you these muffins to say sorry for yesterday and thank you for coming back here. I know you must think I’m a lunatic.” She indicated one of the chairs, and he sat down .