As they headed down the squeaky stairs, Elena spoke from behind her. “You know picking up men isn’t my strong suit.”
“Yep. Tonight you have me as your wingman. Or wing-woman.”
“If I remember correctly,” Elena responded, “historically, you tend to get into trouble, and I either have to hold your hair while you vomit, extricate you from some grabby guy who only looks good through your beer goggles, or watch you flirt with dozens of men while I sit alone at the bar.”
Layla shot Elena a goofy glare as she opened the front door. “If you’d keep up with me drinking, make out with hot men, or hop down from your chair to dance with me, you’d never notice anything different between us.”
“Like that will ever happen.”
Layla slid a tiny black purse over her shoulder as they left the house. “Do you think they have Uber in this town?”
“I don’t think we’ll need it. I’ll drive.”
Layla groaned. She wished Elena would lighten up a bit. Have fun. Live a little. Drink. Dance. Get stupid. It wasn’t her style though, and they were no longer teenagers. Layla didn’t need Elena to cover her ass like she’d needed her to when they snuck out of their grandparents’ home in high school.
Nope. They were grown adults. Except you quit your job and only have enough money to live for a few weeks.
They stepped outside, and Elena locked Marge’s front door. She’d gotten the rental car. A practical white Toyota Camry. As they settled in their seats, Layla thought about the man she’d seen while out jogging. “If even one tenth of the men who live in this town are as fine as the one I saw while I was running, we’ll both be in heaven.”
Elena glanced at her as she pulled onto the road. “You’re dreaming.”
Layla giggled. “About which part?”
“Both. I know shifters often tend to be a bit larger than other humans, but I’m not sure that means they’re sexier. And, again, let me point out, I’m not leaving the bar with a stranger. Gross.”
Layla stared at her sister’s profile. A mirror image of her own profile. Even though the two of them had been separated for most of the last two years, their hair was almost the same length and their skin almost the same shade. They had been born with the unusual combination of darker skin, brown eyes, and bleach blond hair. “We’ll see. Go into this with an open mind.”
Elena shot her a glare as she came to the town’s only stop sign. “Gross,” she repeated.
“Maybe the hot guy has a brother.”
“Maybe the hot guy you saw running isn’t going out to a bar tonight.”
Layla shrugged. It didn’t matter. She hadn’t suggested going out because she’d seen that guy. She was simply dying to check out the citizens of Canyon Springs.
“You know not everyone in town is a shifter, and I bet it’s impolite to ask anyone.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Elena pulled into the parking lot of McGregor’s. The lot was pretty full. Granted, it was a Friday night, and this was the only bar in town. On the flip side, how many people lived in Canyon Springs?
Layla watched as a few people entered the bar while a few others exited. Yep. This was going to be fun. Life was too short not to enjoy it.
“Why do I get the feeling this is a horrible decision?” Elena asked as she searched for a parking spot.
“Because you always feel like everything is a bad idea. This time, you’re wrong. Trust me. We’re going to go in there, have a few drinks, dance with some buff locals, and maybe get lucky.”
“Oh yeah. This night is going to go so wrong,” Elena muttered under her breath as she pulled up in front. “Why don’t you go inside and make sure it isn’t too crowded and that they serve food. I’m starving, and I want to be sure we have a table.”
Layla shook her head, exasperated. “So practical. Fine. I’ll go look. Be right back.” She jumped out of the car and sauntered toward the entrance, head high, shoulders back. Even though her only task was to assess the situation, she wasn’t about to miss an opportunity.
She stepped inside and scanned the room. There were quite a few people inside, but several tables were vacant, and people were definitely eating. Thank God. All of Elena’s excuses were void.
Spinning on her feet, she returned to the car and climbed back in. “All your expectations will be met here, Elle. Let’s park.”
Chapter 4
January 12, 1965
Dear Mabel,
How is the weather there? It’s been snowing off and on for weeks here. They say it will be a long winter. I’ve had to keep the class inside during recess most days lately. It’s either too cold or too wet. The kids get restless. So do I!
I was remembering earlier how you and I used to love a snow day when we were growing up. We would take those old trash can lids, race up the hill, and slide down it. Somehow, even though we were always the same height and weight, you always beat me. How did you do that?
God, I miss you. Sometimes it hurts. I love Josiah dearly, but he can’t replace the friendship I had with you for twenty-two years. My heart hurts every time I open the mailbox and find another letter returned to me.
Please write back instead.
Love, Marge
Hunter was furious. He’d never been so damn mad at Caleb in his entire life. He’d also never taken a swing at him. But that was about to change. He wasn’t stupid enough to fight his best friend inside McGregor’s though, so he stomped toward the entrance, knowing full well that Caleb was right behind him.
The entire time, he glanced around the bar. He was certain he’d scented his mate not two minutes ago. He’d know her smell anywhere, anytime for the rest of his life. Even if he never saw her again, he’d remember her scent for as long as he lived. Where the hell was she? It was like she wafted through the air and then disappeared. Maddening.
How dare Caleb suggest the owner of that particular combination of pheromones belonged to him. Not a chance. The blonde woman he’d seen jogging earlier was his.
In addition, he wasn’t even close to entertaining the thought that she could belong to both of them. Nope. Never. Fuck.
The last fifteen minutes had been surreal. Apparently Hunter hadn’t been the only one who’d met his mate today. Caleb had too. They’d spoken over one another with excitement until Caleb pulled out his phone to show off the picture of the woman he insisted was his. The same woman Hunter had seen out jogging.
This could not be happening, Hunter thought as he stomped out the front door.
Besides Caleb, several other patrons followed the two of them outside. Not surprising. Everyone in town knew them. No one in town had ever seen them fight. Caleb was half surprised that Royce, the bartender, had even suggested they take their disagreement outside.
Now they were drawing a crowd.
Before Hunter could turn around, Caleb shoved him from behind. “Don’t be an ass. Let this go. She’s mine.”
Hunter spun around and took a swing, hitting Caleb right in the jaw.
Caleb staggered backward, rubbing his cheek. “You seriously fucking hit me? I can’t believe you, man.”