The Moose Shifter's Fake Wife: A Steamy Shifter Rom-Com

by Candace Ayers

  With a triumphant fist pump, Gomer smiled sweetly at Gladys. Gladys Knight always did have a sweet spot for Gomer.

  “Miss Gladys, Clint will be buying my dinner today. Because he’s an L-O-S-E-R.” He made an L with his thumb and finger and slapped it against his forehead. “And let me tell you, I’m starving.”

  Gladys grinned and reached over to ruffle Gomer’s hair like he was still a ten-year-old. How the hell did he always charm her like that?

  “Whadda you boys having? Today’s special is a six-inch-tall stack of my huckleberry flapjacks. I can serve it with a side of my sweet potato casserole and a mound of sausage links.”

  My stomach growled, and I tried to finish fixing the bell. “I’ll take that, Miss Gladys.”

  “Not until you fix my bell, you won’t, Clint Eastwood.” She wagged her finger at me and then disappeared into the kitchen with Gomer’s order.

  I scowled at my brother, thinking of all the ways I’d get him back later. As I worked on the bell, Mr. Sagan approached me.

  “Howdy there, Clint.”

  I nodded. “Hello, Carl.”

  “I heard you’d gone and gotten yourself hitched to Pappy’s niece.” Mr. Sagan pulled an aged white handkerchief out of his pocket and patted at his eyes. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations and say that if Pappy were here now, I bet he’d be tickled pink.”

  An ache spread through my chest, and I avoided eye contact as I finished fixing the bell.

  Mr. Sagan was feeling the loss of a thirty-year-long friendship. Carl Sagan was an adult when he met Pappy, and he and Pappy had been good friends since Detachment Day.

  “Thank you, Carl. That means a lot.” I turned to offer him a manly pat on the back, but he stepped out of my reach and grunted. “Just thought I’d offer congratulations to you, boy. Don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

  I watched him shuffle back to his table, unfold the Rattler Tattler, and bury his nose in it like he hadn’t already read it twenty times.

  Letting out a sigh, I ambled over to my pain-in-the-keister brother and snatched one of the sausage links from the plate Gladys had just dropped in front of him.

  My back was to the door, but when the bell rang and a hush fell over the diner, I swung around instinctively. Everyone’s attention was on the stranger who walked in, and it was obvious why.

  A Norm.

  He walked straight to the counter, and without waiting, interrupted Gladys, who was in midconversation with Daffy.

  The stranger shoved a photo under her nose. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  Gladys’s eyes trailed over the photo and then snapped to mine. Something in Gladys’s gaze told my gut I wasn’t going to like what she saw.

  I immediately stood and moved closer.

  “Well, howdy. I’m Sheriff Eastwood. Sumthin’ I can help you with?” I flashed a moronic grin, shoved my hands into my pockets, and attempted to act like a no-brain country bumpkin as I nodded at the photo that I still couldn’t see.

  The man was a foot shorter than I was. He looked up and frowned. “Eastwood. Like Clint Eastwood?”

  “Exactly like Clint Eastwood.”

  “Right. Er, yeah. I’m looking for this woman.”

  I managed to keep my face expressionless as he turned the photo around and showed me a picture of Sam. Her hair was different, blonder, and she was wearing a fancy party dress. I’d only seen her in practical, sensible clothes, but there was no mistaking the woman in the photo was Sam.

  I plucked the photo from his hand and pretended to study it. I wasn’t sure why, but the guy gave me an uneasy feeling deep in my gut. He gave off some bad vibes.

  I handed the picture back with a goofy grin on my face. “Never seen her.”

  The man blew out a frustrated huff then turned to Donald. “How about you? Have you ever seen this woman around here? Ever remember her passing through town?”

  Donald glanced at the photo and squinted. “Nope.”

  Daffy glanced over and wolf whistled. “Wouldn’t mind seeing her, though.”

  I scowled at Daffy, who grinned cheekily. The old devil.

  I knew the whole town would follow my lead. No matter who he asked, not a soul would admit to having ever seen her.

  He slid a ballpoint pen out of his pocket and scribbled on a napkin.

  “This is my number. If any of you happen to see her, will you give me a call?”

  All eyes landed on me.

  I scratched my jaw. “Depends.”

  He rolled his eyes, nodded, and dug in his pocket producing a roll of bills. He peeled one off and attempted to pass it to me, but as soon as he noticed my smile fall and my eyes narrow on him, he knew that wasn’t what I’d meant. He dropped his hand and shoved the money back in his pocket.

  His attempt at bribery squelched my role playing. I dropped the clueless, backwoods sheriff act. He knew it too.

  “Okay, Sheriff, what does it depend on?”

  “Depends on why you’re looking for her.”

  The guy gritted his teeth. “Because she’s my fiancée.”

  Fortunately, I was able to hide my shock, but his admission left me momentarily speechless. I eyed him coolly, but my stomach twisted itself in knots.

  “And because she took off with a whole lot of money. She’s a liar and a thief, and justice needs to be done. Surely as a lawman, you can understand that.”

  I studied him. I saw the anger on the guy’s face. What gutted me was that I could hear in his voice that most of what he said was true, or at least he believed it to be. Not all of it, though, not completely.

  “So, I’m confused. Are you trying to find and protect your lost fiancée, or are you trying to get her arrested?”

  “She got herself into some trouble and ran off. I’m trying to find her to make sure she’s okay.” He shook his head and did his best to look sad. It wasn’t convincing. “Shay O’Brien is troubled, but I love her.”

  Lie. My jaw clenched so hard, I’m surprised I didn’t crack a tooth. Shay O’Brien? So her name really was Shay? Shaking my head, I kept up the act. “Sorry, bud. We don’t get much happening around here. If we had a stranger in town, we’d have noticed.”

  He looked skeptical. “You sure she hasn’t been here? I’ve been tracking her. She must have at least passed through—”

  Elton and Gomer appeared behind me, the three of us towering over the stranger. They pretended to look at the picture. Gomer scratched his chin. “Trust me. If she’d been here, there would’ve been men lined up around the block wanting to marry her. She’s a beauty.”

  I growled low in my throat.

  Elton just chuckled and shrugged. “Don’t recognize her.”

  I handed the photo back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Sorry. Looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree here in Rattlesnake.”

  As he scanned the diner, his scowl darkened. I didn’t have to look myself to know what he saw. A sea of unwelcoming faces.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  I watched him leave—we all watched him leave—then attention silently turned to me.

  I had nothing to say.

  I didn’t know which of the stranger’s words were true and which weren’t, but I knew who could tell me.

  I was damn sure tired of being made a fool of.

  My wife had some explaining to do.

  Without making eye contact with anyone, I slapped money on the counter for Gladys and then stormed out. I looked around and didn’t see the stranger, or an out-of-town vehicle, so I made my way to the ranch for a long-overdue conversation with my wife—whatever her name was.

  I barreled down the drive and slammed the brakes a little too hard, coming to an abrupt and squealing stop in front of the house. Leaping out, I stomped up the three porch stairs. The front door was unlocked. When I yanked it open and stepped inside, I found Sam at the kitchen table covered in flour. Her eyes widened as she looked up from the plate of pasta she was hunched over. Her mouth was full.

&
nbsp; “It’s time for you to talk, Sam.” I knew my voice was raised, but I couldn’t seem to help it. “Or should I say Shay O’Brien?”

  She sat up and wiped her mouth. “You need to calm down first.”

  I glared at her and sank into the chair across from her. “Not going to happen right now. Not while you’re hiding things from me and keeping secrets.”

  She blinked a few times and then stood up, stomped into the kitchen, and dumped the rest of her food in the trash. I could sense a boiling rage brewing just beneath the surface.

  What the hell did she have to be angry about? I was the one being made a fool of.

  When she turned, her eyes flashed with fury. “You act as though I’m the only one keeping secrets!”

  I froze. Did she know about Variants? I wasn’t keeping it from her for any reason other than it wasn’t my secret alone to tell. That, and she might think I was crazy. “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s right. You’ve been pushing me all along to tell you everything about myself, but you’ve got secrets too, Clint. Big ones.”

  I growled angrily. “Yeah, well, at least I ain’t a liar. Is anything you’ve told me true?”

  She recoiled like I’d slapped her. “The hell you’re not a liar.”

  “Your name isn’t Sam Jackson. I’m not even sure you belong here at Pappy’s.”

  Her eyes flooded with tears that slammed me in the gut, but her chin lifted and she braced her hands on her hips. “At least I’m not a cheater.”

  I frowned. Cheater? I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about but decided it was a diversionary tactic. She was just trying to divert the argument away from herself. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

  She glared. “No. I’m not.”

  “Then I’m leaving.”

  She angrily gestured toward the door. “Get out, then. I’m better off without you.”

  “Great. Great! Good fucking luck, then!” I stomped toward the front door but looked back one more time. “It didn’t have to be like this. You could’ve just told me the truth.”

  “Right back at ya, Sheriff.” Her voice wavered, and her bottom lip trembled.

  I shook my head, feeling all of my anger drain. Walking out to my truck, I fought the urge to look back at the house. I didn’t want to see her standing there, holding herself. I didn’t want to see what I knew was there—tears streaming down her cheeks.

  I didn’t want to leave.

  Why the hell wouldn’t she just be straight with me?

  I sped away from the ranch, the ache in my chest almost unbearable.

  Chapter 20

  Shay

  Going into town alone after dark probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Then again, I knew there was virtually no crime in Rattlesnake Canyon. I’d thoroughly searched but hadn’t found a drop of alcohol in the house, and I desperately needed to drown my sorrows tonight.

  The pain of heartache was excruciating. I was the biggest fool in the history of lovestruck fools. In fact, I could be crowned the queen of the lovestruck fools.

  I parked in the sandy lot outside Whistlestop Saloon. When I entered, Elvis, the owner and bartender, waved a greeting from his place behind the bar. As our eyes met, his smile fell and was replaced by a look of concern. He gestured me over with his chin, nodding at a vacant barstool.

  The place was packed with people. I felt curious stares on me. It was probably my overactive brain, but I imagined everyone in the room knew Clint had been carrying on with another woman. They all knew I’d been cheated on and dumped.

  This was a stupid idea.

  I was in no mood to be out in public. I should have stayed home in my footie pajamas, with my smelly, growly, inherited dog, eating vegan ice cream and drowning myself in tears.

  Too late now, Shay. If you turn and run now, you’ll look even more pathetic and weak.

  I sank onto the barstool and bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. I felt my bottom lip tremble, but I could not, would not, allow myself to cry.

  The last thing I needed was to add to my humiliation by having it get back to Clint that I’d had a meltdown in front of half the town.

  Without a word, Elvis came to stand in front of me and poured me a glass of something.

  “On the house,” he said.

  I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t care as long as it served to dull some of the pain. I drank it down in one swallow.

  It burned and made me cough, but I waved him on, indicating he should keep ‘em coming. He poured me another but caught my hand when I reached for it. “You okay, doll?”

  I shrugged and forced a shaky smile. “Define okay.”

  Elvis squeezed my hand. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” I again fought back tears and had to sit still for a moment to keep from losing the battle to them. We stayed in the same pose for several seconds until the shot of alcohol began to take effect and I slowly began to relax. “Life is cruel. I know that much.”

  A warm hand landed on my shoulder, and I turned to see Elton John standing beside me. “You okay, Sam?”

  Tears welled again, the darn buggers. I fanned my eyes. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  Elvis snorted but said nothing.

  Elton lightly squeezed my shoulder. “We’ve all got your back, Sam.”

  After he left, several other people came up to me, offering sympathetic hugs and words of encouragement.

  Huh?

  So they weren’t all staring because they were Judgy McJudgersons?

  They actually liked me?

  But had they all known? Had everyone known from the start that Clint was playing me like a fiddle? If they weren’t stares of judgment, were they stares of pity?

  Of course they already knew. Not that it should have surprised me—small-town gossip and all.

  My stomach clenched like a fist at the thought that everyone knew all along that Clint was carrying on with Frida and the whole time no one said anything.

  Was I a big joke?

  Of course I was. Story of my life. Clueless Shay. Couldn’t see what was right under her own nose. The rancher who didn’t know how to ranch. The moron who played music for her cows and brushed them, dressed them in flower chains, and sang to them. How could I not be a laughing stock?

  There was something I really wanted to know, but I wasn’t sure I had enough liquid courage yet to ask anyone. Why had Clint even bothered with me and the whole marriage sham when he had Frida? What was it he wanted? The ranch?

  I held my tongue as Elvis filled my glass once more and then cut me off. He slid a glass of water over.

  “Drink this first. That alcohol hasn’t even taken full effect yet. Trust me, you’ve downed enough to pickle your sorrows and numb your pain for the night.”

  I disagreed.

  I was frustrated and not nearly as drunk as I was going to need to be to numb this deep heartache. Especially not when I looked over my shoulder and spotted Frida strutting into the bar with her head held high, looking like the badass cowgirl she was.

  The liquor churned in my stomach. My instinct was to run to the ladies’ room to toss my tequila, but I decided that would have to wait until the room stopped spinning. As I swayed slightly on the barstool, I had a chilling thought. How deep would my humiliation run if I added to it by barfing on Elvis’s bar? In front of the whole town? In front of Frida!

  Maybe I should ask for more water. No, coffee.

  My stomach roiled again. No, adding any additional liquid to the angry mess already brewing in there was a terrible idea. What I really needed was fresh air.

  Inch by inch, my butt slid itself off the stool. My eyes focused on the door. I didn’t look back as I waved goodbye to Elvis behind me and everyone else in the vicinity—they were all blurry. I needed to make haste before I came face to face with Frida.

  I wasn’t an aggressive person, not even a little bit, but I was angry, hurt, and humiliated. If she tried to approach me or talk to me
, I wasn’t positive I wouldn’t haul off and pop her one.

  I ducked my head and watched the floor as I concentrated on walking a straight line to the exit, hoping no one stopped me. I heard Frida call my name, but I just picked up my pace. I hurried out of the saloon and over to my truck. I was in no shape to get behind the wheel, I knew that, but I could at least sit in it and hide, maybe even sleep, until I was sober enough to drive myself back home.

  Then, I would finish off the stored canned goods and eat only what I could grow, and never come back to town. Not for groceries, not for mail, not for anything whatsoever. I’d live a secluded life with my cows and chickens and my pig and my goat. And no Clint.

  “Sam!”

  Frida? Was she following me? I winced and broke into a full-out run. I made a snap decision to get in my truck and lock myself in. I’d plug my ears and scream like a toddler having a tantrum if I had to.

  Less than a second later, Frida had me by the arm and was pulling me to a stop. Dang, the woman was fast. And strong. I bet she could work a ranch without making a fool of herself.

  After feebly tugging for a few seconds, it became clear that I was no match and that even trying to get away from her was stupid.

  “Sam, what’s wrong?” She lightly shook me. “Look at me. Why are you running from me?”

  There were two of her.

  I closed an eye.

  Sloshed and pissed, I truly was a hot mess. But she had a point. Why was I running? I wasn’t the guilty party. She was. She was the one messing with another woman’s husband. She should be the one feeling ashamed and running away, not me.

  Angry tears burned my eyes. “I have nothing to say to you. Let me go.”

  She looked taken aback. “What? What’s wrong? Why are you mad? Are you mad at me?”

  I laughed bitterly and tried to pull away from her again. “As if you didn’t know, sister. Don’t play all innocent with me you…you…man stealer!”

  “I’m not letting you drive in this state. You’ll kill yourself.”

  I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Oh, wouldn’t that be convenient for you?”