He kept looking around the interface until he found the “delete account” button. He tapped it, then sighed as a message flashed up. Are you sure? Don’t go before you’ve checked out your best-ever match !
Suddenly, the app slowly began to load a full-size image of the whoopy-doo eighty-five percent compatible female. As the pixels disappeared and it came through, he took in curly brown hair, big, round gray eyes and mischievously curved lips. The phone fell from his hand onto the bed .
8
“W here is that young man of yours?” Bill asked Selma. She was sitting with her mom, dad, Emily, and Dave in McLadden’s, a cozy pub, all dark wood trimming and exposed brick walls, at the end of Hope Valley’s main street. Selma had picked it because it had forty-five different beers on tap, which was apparently a very exciting thing for her dad, and Frankie—she hoped .
She looked at her phone for the umpteenth time. Frankie hadn’t replied earlier when she’d messaged him telling him where the meeting place was. That didn’t seem unlike him though; he wasn’t always the most forthcoming of guys. “He says he got held up at work. He’ll try to get away soon,” she said. Ker-ching! Another lie . What did one more lie matter anyway? She’d been lying non-stop since she’d created this ridiculous situation. But now it did, because what she was feeling for Frankie was real. And suddenly, every lie she had told cheapened what they had .
“Let’s hope he gets a move on, dear. I’m sure he won’t want to miss out on these delightful-smelling beers,” Jean said, wrinkling her nose. She never tired of complaining that beer tasted and smelled like dirty dish water .
Selma excused herself to go to the bathroom but called Frankie instead .
The phone rang out and went to voicemail. She cleared her throat nervously. “Hey, Frankie. Just wondering where you’d got to. We’re ordering one more drink before we go to dinner, and I’d hate you to miss out. Call me if you got held up somewhere and we can just meet at the restaurant. Love you .”
She cut the call and stared at the screen of her phone in horror. How the hell had that slipped out of her mouth ?
“Love you,” she repeated, thinking of him, of the night before. She’d almost said it then as well, right after he’d given her that incredible orgasm. Well, they say that people come out with things like that in the heat of the moment. How could you not love someone who’d just made you feel so stunningly, unbelievably incredible ?
She hadn’t taken it so much to heart at the time. But now she knew: she was falling for him. And it had been happening for a while. Amid those little chats they’d been having in the mornings about nothing much, she’d come to appreciate his straightforwardness, his integrity, his manners, and it made her heart flutter that such a good-looking guy could be so decent and humble. Then in the last couple of days, he’d shown his whole character, and it was an eye-opener. He was so kind, patient, funny, and entertaining. And more than anything, he made her feel safe. The anxiety that was always running through her veins, making her do and say ridiculous things, eased in his big, reassuring presence. He calmed her, as if she was a flighty animal and he was a patient trainer .
But, shit, she really shouldn’t have just blurted that out in a voicemail. Well, she’d just make out that it was something she said to all her friends. As she turned to leave the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the mirror. No. Hold it right there, missy . If he asks you about it, you’re going to tell the truth. That’s what you’re going to do. No more lies. However embarrassing it might be, and however much it might hurt, if he tells you he doesn’t feel the same, you’re going to tell him how you feel about him .
She walked back into the pub and was almost glad to see that his seat was still vacant .
F rankie hadn’t arrived or contacted her by the time they paid the check. Selma sent him a text message saying they were heading to the grill restaurant, and her stomach sat tight and heavy as she drove her parents there. Something was wrong. He wasn’t the kind of guy who turned up late. She was certain of that .
“Table for five?” the hostess asked chirpily as they arrived at the restaurant .
“Six,” Selma said hesitantly, and they were shown to a big wooden bench-style table by the window, looking out onto the main street .
They ordered starters and entrees, and Selma forced herself to join in the conversation, which was all about the upcoming wedding, but her attention was wavering, anxious thoughts gnawing at her stomach .
Just as the starters arrived, Selma caught sight of a familiar tall, broad figure hurrying along the opposite side of the street. Her breath caught in her chest, and she listened hard for the sound of the restaurant door opening behind her. There was the high-pitched trill of the hostess’s voice, then a much deeper, rumbling tone, and a spike of adrenaline hit her so hard that perspiration broke out on her palms .
Two more seconds, and he was at her side in a black leather jacket, indigo button-down shirt, and black jeans, planting a kiss on her cheek, apologizing to everyone for being late before sitting down opposite her .
She searched his face, trying to understand. Was there a distance in those piercing blue eyes? He wouldn’t hold her gaze and turned his head to answer a question of Jean’s instead. She pushed her plate of buffalo wings across the table. “We can share,” she offered. “There’s too much for me anyway .”
“Thanks. I might take a couple.” He flashed her his usual crooked grin and snatched one from the plate. Her pulse slowed a little. Maybe he’d just had some issue with his clan and didn’t have time to send her a message .
Frankie was chatty and charming throughout dinner, asking all about the upcoming wedding, as if he instinctively knew they’d never get bored talking about it. But for Selma, the meal couldn’t go fast enough, and when Bill floated the idea of having coffees, she immediately said she’d make them at home instead .
Emily and Dave headed back to their own house, Bill and Jean came with Selma in her car, and Frankie surprised her by climbing onto a motorbike—a big, growly cruiser with lots of gleaming chrome. She hadn’t even known he was into bikes .
What do I actually know about him anyway? she thought as she drove her parents home. She was crazy falling for a guy who told her so little about himself .
Frankie’s motorbike streaked ahead at the first set of traffic lights, quickly disappearing from view, and he was waiting for them when they arrived, leaning on one of the posts of her storm porch, distractingly sexy in his biker jacket .
“You have a key. You could have let yourself in,” she muttered as she opened the door .
“I didn’t know if that would be cool with your parents,” he said .
She wanted to point out he’d been there the previous day when they’d turned up unannounced, but her mom was breathing down their necks .
Selma looked at him in confusion while he made the coffee. She grabbed a bottle of Scotch from the back of her drinks cupboard. He was being as pleasant as ever, but something felt very different about him, as if he was surrounded by an invisible force field that she couldn’t breach .
She poured a Scotch on the rocks for her dad, and one part Scotch and five parts water for her mom, but Frankie said he didn’t want any. Her heart sunk. That meant he wasn’t staying tonight. He’d finish his coffee and leave .
She slid into a miserable silence while her mom told some interminable story and Frankie nodded politely and laughed in all the right places. She was desperate to know what had changed since last night when he’d called her his mate in a breathless, growly tone that had sent shivers down her spine and this morning when he’d kissed her so tenderly. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to find out tonight .
At last, Frankie drained his coffee and stood up. “Bill, Jean, I’d like to thank you for another lovely evening. I’d better head home now as I’ve got an early start again tomorrow .”
Selma’s heart plummeted even farther. “The sofa’s a little short for Frankie, I’m afraid,” she sa
id to her parents with a choked laugh .
Frankie pressed both hands into the small of his back and leaned back a little. “Tall guy problems,” he said, grinning. He turned to Selma. “Goodnight, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He put his arms around her waist, kissed her once on the lips, then left the house .
“Aren’t you going to join him, Silly?” Jean said, her voice sleepy from the Scotch as Selma had intended .
“Uh, no. He’s on his bike .”
Jean waved her hand. “Then drive there. If I were you, with a young man like that, I wouldn’t let him sleep all alone in a cold bed .”
“Jean!” Bill exclaimed .
“Well, it’s true. When you’ve got a good one, you’ve gotta make sure you keep your eye on the ball .”
Selma shook her head and pretended to yawn. “Thanks for the stellar advice, Mom. But I’m beat. I think I’ll head to bed .”
After her parents kissed her goodnight and lumbered upstairs, she put the cups and glasses in the dishwasher and gazed at the sofa listlessly. Since it was just her sleeping on it, she didn’t need to go to the effort of pulling it out. Instead, she threw her pillow and comforter onto it. The waft of air that it created smelled so much of Frankie, of that deep, arousing woodsy scent. She heaved out a long breath that prickled with pain .
Maybe, for once, her mom was right. She had no idea what was going through Frankie’s mind right now. But she wasn’t going to spend the night staring at her living room ceiling and wondering .
She went into the hallway, grabbed her car keys from the hook on the wall, and headed into the night. She didn’t know where he lived exactly, but he said it was with the other bears in the national park, and she’d been there before .
“On the south side,” she muttered as she opened her maps app and examined the border of the park, hoping to find a track that went into the forest. There was nothing marked, but she remembered the road to the bears’ cabins led right off the highway. She picked out a likely spot and set it as the destination in her sat nav. If she was wrong, well, she’d try something else .
Twenty minutes later, she was driving slowly along the deserted highway beside the park. There it was—a small gap in the trees. The forest was very dark, and her chest clutched at the thought of entering it. But she’d come this far; she wasn’t going to stop now .
Cautiously, she made her way along a dirt road, her little Fiat 500 bumping over some big ruts, and in a few hundred meters, her headlights picked out a series of cabins .
“Not so Silly after all, huh?” she said aloud. Now, to find Frankie’s cabin. She continued along the track. Most of the cabins were in darkness except one near the end, which had a dim light showing inside. As she drew closer, she saw his car parked in the driveway and his bike sitting in a carport. She shut off the engine and climbed out of the car. His front door opened, flooding the porch with light .
“Selma?”
She walked along the pathway that led to the porch steps on wobbly feet. He was silhouetted in the doorway so she couldn’t see his reaction to her unexpected appearance. She faltered. During the drive, she’d been all fired up to interrogate him, but now she wasn’t at all sure she had the right to demand answers from him .
“Are you okay?” he said when she didn’t say anything .
“Yeah. But …”
He sighed. “But I ignored your messages and missed the drinks with no explanation .”
“Exactamente.”
“I’m sorry. Come in .”
She tilted her head to one side, uncertainly. “Are you sure you want me to ?”
“Of course. I shouldn’t have acted like that. You deserve an explanation .”
She raised her phone. “That’s what phones are for .”
He sighed again. “I know .”
She walked up the porch steps, and he held the door open wide. It was a cozy-looking place and less rustic than she’d expected. The front door opened into a living room with wood paneled walls, a long, aged leather couch, a couple of mismatched brown leather armchairs, and a long, low coffee table with intricate carvings on its wooden surface. There were also a couple of colorful tapestry rugs on the floor, while a good quarter of the space was taken up by a grease-stained white sheet, upon which various motorbike parts were lying .
“How did you find me here?” he said as he closed the door .
“I’ve been to Lauren’s place once before for a barbecue, and your bike and car are sitting right outside .”
“I’m impressed, Selma .”
She frowned. “You think I’m simple or something ?”
“No.” He indicated the seating area, but she continued standing, not far from the door .
“Is that why you thought it would be okay to have sex with me then act like nothing happened?” she demanded .
“No.” He groaned and sunk onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. “If you knew about my life history, you’d know that’s not the kind of thing I’d do .”
She scowled at him, her anger rising. “But you did .”
When he lifted his head again, his eyes were full of sadness. “When I left you this morning, I was happier than I can remember feeling ever before. Last night was very special to me .”
“And then ?”
“And then I found something out that cut me in two .”
She shook her head, her fast pulse making her a little nauseous and dizzy .
Frankie took his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll show you .”
Reluctantly she walked over and sat beside him, immediately picking up his heady, spicy scent .
She watched as he swiped to the orange Shiftr app that she also had on her smartphone but had never gotten around to using. He tapped to open it. The screen filled with a bunch of thumbnails. They were his potential matches, she knew that much, and her heart pounded even harder .
“Frankie, if you’re about to tell me that you spent the afternoon chasing chicks on Shiftr and discovered you’ve found your perfect match, I might just punch you!” she exclaimed .
“It’s not that. Look.” He tapped the thumbnail right at the top of the list. She blinked as the screen filled with curly brown hair, round cheeks, googly eyes. Her .
She gasped and snatched the phone from him. “We’re matches. Your best match, in fact.” Her gaze flicked between him and the screen. “This is good news, right ?”
He let off a pained groan. “No, it’s not. Because we’re only eighty-five percent compatible .”
She shrugged. “Well, we’ve got some areas where we clash, I can see that. But I’d say eighty-five percent is pretty damn great.” He ought to be happy if he liked her as much as he’d made out last night. But he only shook his head miserably. Her skin prickled, tiny hairs on her arms standing up .
“It’s not enough,” he said. “All my clan have matches above ninety-percent. Some even have a hundred percent .”
She chewed on her bottom lip, looked at him uncomprehendingly. “But why does it matter so much? What’s the big deal ?”
“It matters because of my past. Because my mom chose the wrong guy who made her life hell. My dad cheated on her non-stop with a lot of women, and she died when I was still in my teens, heartbroken and a shadow of herself. Then my dad tried to excuse his cheating by telling Connor and I we had wolverine blood in our family line, which made us overwhelmingly likely to cheat—” He broke off as her mouth fell open. “It’s not true. It messed us up for years. Connor refused to date anyone at all, while I refused to get into relationships with the women my dad coerced me to hook up with. But when Connor met Lauren and they could hardly keep their hands off each other, he got our blood tested, and it came back one hundred percent bear shifter. Dad lied to us, and it almost ruined our lives. That’s why I hate lying so much .”
“That figures,” Selma said, nodding, as various things he’d said to her in the last few days slotted into place .
“Anyway, Connor and Lauren turn
ed out to be a perfect match. And on the day of their mating ceremony, I promised myself if I ever found a mate, we’d have to be perfectly compatible as well .”
Selma’s lips formed a shocked O . “That sounds like a pretty tough challenge,” she said at last. “How much leeway does a girl get—one percent? Two ?”
He gave her a sharp look. “I know you think I’m being ridiculous. But I’m a shifter. We take these things seriously .”
“Yeah, I know. Fated mates, yada yada.” She rolled her eyes. Then she shifted her position so her body was turned fully toward him. “But the one thing I want to know, Frankie Whitlock, is why you called me your mate last night .”
He shot her a panicked glance. “I did ?”
“You know you did .”
He huffed out another one of his long breaths. “What my bear wants and what I know is right aren’t always the same thing .”
“Sounds like your two parts are warring .”
“Sometimes, yes .”
She gazed at him while he continued to stare down at the floor, avoiding her eyes .
“Maybe you should let your bear win once in a while .”
His lips bent into a crooked smile. “Believe me, Selma, if I could trust my bear with my life decisions, I’d be claiming you right now .”
A shiver ran through her body and her nipples hardened. “But it’s a no. You can’t be with me because we’re a teensy weensy bit different ?”
“I know you’re mocking me, but this is a hard limit for me. I’ve staked my life on it .”
She clapped her hands together. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you are too darn serious for me anyway. Thank you for pretending to be my boyfriend. And for giving me the best orgasm of my entire life. Now, let’s move on. Have you got a spare comforter and pillow? I’m kind of tired and my house feels a long way away right now .”
“Uh…” He got to his feet, seeming dazed. “It’s okay, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll crash here .”
“No, trust me, the couch is fine .”
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