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

by Candace Ayers

  No, it was all a big lie.

  She was good. Damn good. Well, she wouldn’t get away with her lies and trickery this time. Not in Rattlesnake Canyon. No, sir. She was about to get her deceitful ass locked up. If she’d done what they were saying she’d done, she deserved the full force of the law to descend upon her. And around here, that was me. I was the law.

  My hands shook. I considered arming myself for a brief second, but I wouldn’t need a firearm. I could easily overpower Sam—Shay—whatever her name was. I didn’t need cuffs either since she didn’t have the strength or the speed to escape me, but I got those out anyway.

  I’d make her wear handcuffs when I brought her in—like the criminal she was. Hell, I hoped the whole town saw her wearing them. She didn’t only lie to and make a fool out of me, she lied to all of us. And to think, we welcomed her with open arms. Open, trusting arms.

  “Agh!” I was so fucking angry, I wanted to punch something.

  My own wife. My goddamn wife!

  I ran my hands through my hair and willed myself to calm down before I put a hole in something with my fist. It just didn’t make sense. None of it.

  I mean, I may be a small-town sheriff in a place where crime is virtually nonexistent, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a good lawman. I had excellent instincts—usually. I could spot lies and knew there were things Sam—Shay, fuck, I had to remember to call her Shay now—I knew there were things she chose not to reveal quite yet. I also knew she’d stretched the truth on occasion. While both of those things bothered me, they weren’t deal breakers because of one big thing.

  She was a good person.

  I had sensed that with every fiber of my being. How could I have been so wrong? That was what made zero sense.

  I pulled the crumpled print out from my pocket, smoothed it on my desk, and looked at it again. This woman, the woman I’d grown to know and…well, grown to know, she was not a heartless con artist.

  Maybe she had that associative identity disorder, a split personality. I’d heard of that but didn’t know much about it except it was a human disease.

  And maybe you’re making lame excuses for her because you don’t want to accept the truth.

  I dialed the number I’d scribbled at the bottom of the wrinkled piece of paper.

  “Jazzy Jacks, this is Sara. How can I help you?”

  I cleared my throat and rolled my shoulders. “Um, yes, hello. This is Sheriff Eastwood calling from Rattlesnake Canyon, Nevada. I’m looking for Samantha Jackson.”

  The person on the other end sighed. “She’s not in the restaurant today, sir. Can I take a message?”

  I scrubbed my hand down my face and found myself nodding. “Please.” I rattled off my number and asked her to have Ms. Jackson call me as soon as possible. “Please tell her it’s urgent. An emergency—tell her it’s an emergency. It’s about her great-uncle’s place.”

  Sara repeated the number slowly and then hung up. I stared down at the phone. I wanted to throw the damn thing—shatter it. I wanted to close out the outside world and pretend I didn’t know any of the secrets I’d been so desperate to pry out of Shay.

  As I stared at the phone, contemplating whether I should wait for a call back or go ahead and confront Shay, it rang. I jumped and grabbed the receiver. “Sheriff’s office.”

  “Hello, this is Samantha Jackson.” The woman’s voice was reserved and cautious. “I received a call from a Sheriff Eastwood about my great-uncle’s place?”

  “Thank you for calling, Ms. Jackson. I’m Sheriff Clint Eastwood of Rattlesnake Canyon. I need to talk to you about a woman named Shay O’Brien.”

  The woman gasped. “Is she okay?”

  “You know her, then?

  “What happened to her? Please tell me she’s okay. I can be on the first plane out.”

  “You know her.”

  “Yes! Of course I know her, and you know I know her or you wouldn’t have called. Please, tell me, did something happen to her?”

  “She’s fine… Are you aware that she’s a fugitive from justice? That there’s a warrant for her arrest?”

  There was silence for several minutes before the woman spoke. “Oh, that.”

  I huffed a bitter laugh. “Yes, that. So you are aware, then. Are you also aware that harboring, hiding, or further aiding and abetting a known criminal carries a stiff penalty, Ms. Jackson?”

  She blew out a long breath.

  I slumped down into my chair. “Look, I didn’t call to threaten you.”

  “Why did you call then, Sheriff.” Her words were clipped and icy. “Because that sure sounded like a threat to me.”

  “I want to know if it’s true. What the papers say, is it true?” I sighed and tried again. “I mean… Is she who they say she is?”

  Samantha paused. “Why are you asking me? Don’t you cops just believe what other cops say?”

  “I don’t know what you’re used to there in DC, but that’s not how it works here in my town, Ms. Jackson.” Mostly because I wasn’t in communication with other law enforcement officers, but she didn’t need to know that. “I called to hear what you have to say. Who is Shay O’Brien, and how well do you know her?”

  “Shay is…she’s one of my closest friends.” The woman’s voice trembled now. “You want to know who Shay is? Shay is the sweetest, most caring, kindest person I’ve ever met.”

  She was describing the woman I’d gotten to know, the woman I’d married. But maybe Samantha Jackson had been conned by Shay as well. “How long have you known her?”

  “I’ve known her all her life. I babysat her when she was just an infant in diapers. I watched her grow up, and we’ve remained friends as adults.”

  Some of the tension in my chest loosened. “How did she get mixed up in a Ponzi scheme? The woman you’re describing is not the kind of woman who would defraud hundreds of people of their hard-earned money.”

  “She’s too loving, that’s how. Too trusting. And you’re right. She’d never do that! That slimebucket of a fiancé of hers set her up. He’s a grifter, a scam artist, and she was his biggest mark. Those people he conned out of money, yes, that’s terribly sad, but it’s just money. What he did to Shay… She lost not only money, but her reputation, her dignity, her optimism, and quite possibly her freedom.”

  “So, you’re suggesting she’s a victim as well?”

  “I’m not suggesting it, Sheriff. I’m telling you straight out that nobody feels worse about those poor people getting swindled than Shay. She has taken it harder than anyone.”

  “How is it she was the only one implicated in the crime?”

  “Well, what Robert Rosemont lacks in human decency, he makes up for with conniving skills. It was his plan from the get-go to use her as a patsy. Shay isn’t stupid. Her intelligence is underestimated sometimes, but she isn’t stupid.”

  I listened as the woman grew emotional. Her voice cracked, and she sniffled.

  “But she is too trusting. He framed her. He implicated her. She did nothing wrong except place her trust in the wrong man.” Samantha Jackson tried to control her voice again. “I’m sorry. You’re the first person I’ve been able to talk to about this who doesn’t automatically assume Shay is guilty. Please believe me when I tell you that she was framed.”

  I blew out a long breath. “I do believe you.” I did. Even at first it hadn’t felt right, but suddenly, everything made much more sense. “She’s a good woman. I’ve seen that much with my own eyes. Even Pappy’s mean old dog likes her.”

  “Pappy?”

  “Your great-uncle. We all knew him as Pappy.” I rested my elbows on my desk. “Why did she run?”

  Samantha laughed bitterly. “She ran for her life. Robert not only framed her but also vanished into thin air. While she was awaiting trial, I hadn’t wanted her to be alone and insisted she stay with me. One night, I drove her back to the apartment she and Robert shared so she could pick up a few things. I waited in the car. Neither of us knew that Robert was there
—in the apartment. Apparently, he wanted something from her. He claimed she had the access key to the accounts that held the stolen funds—some offshore accounts full of the millions he’d swindled. She had no idea what he was talking about. He threatened her, got violent, roughed her up so badly he almost killed her. He might have if I hadn’t come looking for her. I found her unconscious and an absolute mess.”

  I growled. My fist clenched so hard, a piece of my desk I hadn’t realized I’d been clutching broke off.

  “Shay was terrified, but that was when she decided to flee. She became convinced that if she could figure out what Robert meant by her holding the key to the bank accounts, she would be able to return the money to the people Robert had stolen it from. It was almost kismet when I inherited a ranch from an uncle I never knew existed. I sold it to Shay for pennies. We both thought it would be the perfect place for her to hide from Robert. I’m sure he’s looking for her. I just pray he never finds her. If he does, she’s in grave danger. He’ll finish what he started—he will kill her.”

  My stomach lodged in my throat, and I shot up out of my chair. He was here. That motherfucker was in town looking for her. Fuck, I’d had no idea he was dangerous.

  “I have to go.” I abruptly dropped the receiver into its cradle and ran to my truck. I hadn’t warned Shay that he was in town. I didn’t even know if he was still hanging around.

  I’d been so busy worrying about Shay lying that I hadn’t given a thought to the fact that she might have had a damn good reason—self-defense. I should have paid more attention to what was really important.

  My wife’s safety.

  I floored the accelerator on my way out to the ranch, throwing up dust and rocks as I went. As I passed Elvis, who looked concerned, I skidded to a stop and barked out some pleading commands. Elvis nodded and started to ask questions, but I took off before he could get the words out. I had no time to stop and explain.

  I’d been all wrong about how I’d handled Shay. I’d been too pushy and then too quick to distrust her simply because she was fully human, not a Variant. I should have stayed with her, had some patience, trusted her.

  Fuck!

  If anything happened to her, it would all be my fault. As the law in Rattlesnake Canyon, it was my responsibility to look after the residents. As a married man, it was my responsibility to look after my wife.

  I drove as fast as my work truck would go, terrified of what I might find.

  The moment I hit the access road to the ranch, I knew something was wrong.

  The gate was closed. It was never closed.

  I jumped out of the truck and ran with every ounce of strength I had, adrenaline surging through me.

  This was all my fault, my fault, my fucking fault. I knew that all the way to my bones. I’d let that man find Shay.

  If anything happened to her, I would never forgive myself.

  Chapter 23

  Shay

  Frida knew everything.

  I’d spilled the entire story from start to present. I prayed that telling her hadn’t been a mistake, but it had felt good to let it all out. I’d been holding in the truth for so long.

  Frida hadn’t told me off or condemned me. She’d listened to the whole story, then let loose some choice curses for Robert. Remembering the foul words she’d used made me smile.

  She’d called him names I’d never heard of. Frida really was badass.

  The sun was high in the sky, and the heat was brutal. I was hungover as heck, but in some ways, I felt as though a tremendous burden had been lifted off my shoulders. In others, the guilt and shame still weighed heavily.

  Last night, after Frida became a bobcat and then a human again, she took my truck to town and returned with a bottle of Jack Daniels. We sat up half the night laughing and talking and drinking. Apparently, alcohol didn’t have the same effect on Variants as it did on humans. Either that or she just handled her liquor much better than I did.

  Hangover or not, ranch chores couldn’t be ignored, especially since it didn’t look like Clint was coming back to help with them.

  Who was I kidding? He probably wouldn’t come back at all, no matter what Frida said. I leaned against the side of the chicken coop. The chickens had grown on me, but I still didn’t totally trust them.

  I brought the bottom of my T-shirt up and wiped my face with it. Sweat was pouring off me in buckets, and I scouted around looking for the best spot to vomit if need be.

  I didn’t feel good at all.

  Physically, I didn’t know how I was standing. Emotionally, I was maybe even worse.

  I missed Clint.

  I forced myself to go into the coop to gather the eggs and clean up. When the tears came, I let them. Last night, all full of alcohol, I could laugh about things. Today, hangover or no hangover, reality smacked me in the face.

  I’d been wrong about Clint. He had been hiding something from me, but it wasn’t cheating. Frida told me about how when I saw them together, they’d been talking about me and our relationship.

  He was committed to me. Or he had been, until I ruined it by chasing him away. Why couldn’t I have just come clean with him?

  Would he have listened and believed me?

  I wasn’t sure, but I did know that expecting him to accept the fact that I’d been lying to him over and over was unrealistic.

  I had a renewed determination to find a way to exonerate myself. There had to be some evidence. Robert had come to find it that night when he’d hurt me. He’d kept asking where the rest of my things were. I had already moved some stuff to Samantha’s, but just the essentials, the stuff I really needed.

  What was Robert looking for that night?

  What did he want?

  I finished with the chickens and headed over to the barn to take care of Baxter and Artemis. Baxter was my favorite. He was a massive pig who didn’t seem to want to do anything but eat and lounge—I could relate.

  Artemis, on the other hand, was frisky and high spirited and kept trying to jump on my head. The little goat was a menace, and cute as a button. Half of the time, Artemis stayed up in the loft, lying in wait for me to enter so he could drop down on me and scare me. Ornery little mischief and mayhem maker.

  When I entered, Baxter was sprawled out on the floor, looking as though he was king of his barn-palace, which I supposed he was. Clint told me that Pappy had been planning to take Baxter to the slaughterhouse and have him butchered into enough meat to last for a year, if not more. I shuddered at the very thought.

  That wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.

  As I shuffled around, I avoided walking right under Artemis. He seemed to have excellent aim and only jumped if and when he knew I was in range and would break his fall.

  Since I took care to foil his attack, he remained in the loft.

  Artemis and Baxter liked being together, though. I’d caught them cuddling together several times when I stopped in to say my goodnights.

  “Hey, Baxter. How’s the king of the barn today?” Baxter snorted, and I got to work shoveling out his pen.

  I heard Gilligan growl in the distance and glanced toward the barn doors. I didn’t see anything, so I went over and turned on the old transistor radio to give the animals some music.

  Regardless of what Clint said, they liked the music.

  Baxter looked a little agitated today. It was my unprofessional opinion that he might be depressed and need more sun. I tried to shove him toward the back pasture to get him outside, but he just didn’t want to budge.

  I was so preoccupied with my headache and nausea and engrossed in figuring out how to get a three-hundred-pound pig to go outside and get some fresh air that I wasn’t paying attention to anything else around me.

  When Gilligan growled from a few feet behind me, I startled and straightened.

  “Gilligan! Where’d you come from? What’s wrong, boy?”

  That was when I turned and saw a man’s silhouette just beyond the doorway.

  C
lint. He came back.

  A huge smile spread across my face.

  Maybe Frida had said something to him.

  I’d sworn her to secrecy about the arrest warrant and my criminal status in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t encouraged him to come back and talk things out with me.

  This at least meant he was ready to talk. I tried not to get my hopes up too high. We had a lot of things we still needed to work through, and for all I knew, after hearing what I had to say, Clint may just decide to wipe his hands clean of me and have me transported to federal prison.

  If it meant making things right with Clint, I’d tell him everything. It was a risk I was prepared to take at this point. I owed him that much. He’d been my hero. The man didn’t need to marry me. He didn’t need a job, a place to live, or the ranch. And he damn sure didn’t need me in order to have a wife. He was a great catch for any woman. He didn’t need me at all.

  I needed him.

  Grumpy, gruff, too-harsh Clint had stepped up because I needed him. He deserved the truth. I just hoped he’d understand why I’d felt I had to keep it from him in the first place, the fear I harbored.

  “You scared the crap out of me. I’m glad you came back, though. I was hoping we could talk.”

  When he didn’t move or speak, a chill ran down my spine.” I took a step closer, then a few more. I was practically on top of him before I realized that the man in the doorway was about a foot shorter and much smaller in stature than Clint. My stomach dropped. I backed up a step.

  “There you go, Shay. You finally realize it’s me, huh? Not whatever hillbilly hayseed you’ve been fucking.”

  The voice I would never forget crawled over my flesh like a swarm of insects. There was no filter of feigned civility this time in his tone. He sounded sinister, vicious, and evil. He stepped closer, just inside the barn doors, and I finally made out the scowl on his face.