Page 3 of Wedding for My Werewolf

Robin jolted awake, her heart racing. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was but then it all came crashing back—the bus ride, Flora, the inn. She must have crawled under the covers at some point during the night because she was tucked beneath the pretty blue quilt. How long had she slept?

Pushing herself upright, she decided it must still be early. Pale dawn light filtered through frost-covered windows, and the inn was silent around her. She hunted out her phone—the cheapest prepaid unit she could find—and peered at the time. 7:27 AM. Her interview wasn’t until nine, but now that she was awake, she couldn’t stay still.

She took a quick shower in the quietly luxurious bathroom, then dressed in her nicest remaining clothes – dark jeans and a cream sweater she’d managed to keep unwrinkled. She pulled her hair back into a neat braid, then peered at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and haunted, but presentable. It would have to do.

The inn’s lobby sat empty and quiet. A note on the counter announced breakfast started at eight, but there was a coffee urnand a basket of muffins on a cloth covered table. She hesitated, still feeling guilty about taking advantage of Flora’s kindness, but couldn’t resist the delicious aroma of the coffee. The warmth of the coffee seemed to seep into her bones, giving her courage as she pulled on her coat and slipped out the front door.

The icy mountain air bit at her cheeks as she wandered down Main Street, admiring the variety of buildings from converted bungalows to a row of brick-fronted stores.

Fairhaven Falls was waking up. Shop owners flipped signs from “Closed” to “Open.” The aroma of fresh bread wafted from a bakery. Her shoulders relaxed as she took in the peaceful scene.

The street ended at the river, with a large town square to one side. A market was taking place in the square, stalls being set up for the day. She weaved between vendors arranging their wares, enjoying the variety of goods—from fresh produce to hand-crafted items. Then her sleeve caught on the edge of a table, sending a basket of apples tumbling.

“My merchandise!” A screech pierced the air, and she turned to find a harpy looming over her, wings spread wide. “Clumsy human, those are enchanted apples!”

She flinched as she realized how many people were looking at them and quickly ducked down to pick up the golden apples.

“I’m so sorry?—”

Her fingers trembled as she gathered the apples, checking each for bruises as she placed them back in the basket. The harpy’s talons clicked against the cobblestones.

“If you’ve damaged even one?—”

The harpy snatched the basket Robin handed her, examining each apple with sharp eyes. Her wings mantled, blocking out more of the early sunlight.

“That’s enough.” A deep voice cut through the harpy’s tirade.

She turned to find a tall man approaching, a distinctive presence even in the busy crowd. No, not a man. He had a rugged, handsome face, but his eyes glowed with an otherworldly golden hue and there was a hint of fangs showing when he spoke.Werewolf.

Those golden eyes focused on her and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She managed a shaky smile, trying not to stare at the claws extending from his fingertips. “It was my fault. I wasn’t watching what I was doing.”

“Clumsy human!” the harpy hissed, and the werewolf growled, a deep, inhuman sound that rumbled through the air.

“I said that’s enough. There are children watching. Unless you want a formal reprimand from the Council, you’ll apologize and leave the lady alone.”

“But Sheriff Grayson. This human?—”

“Was clearly trying to help.” His tone left no room for argument. “The market’s barely open, Clara. Let’s not start the day like this.”

“But—”

“Apologize.”

The word hung in the air, an unspoken threat underlying the soft tone.

“I apologize,” Clara said grudgingly and she managed a nod, not trusting her voice.

The harpy huffed but retreated behind her stall. The sheriff turned to Robin, and she fought the urge to step back. The last thing she needed was any attention from an officer of the law, especially since everything about him screamed danger – from his broad shoulders to the predatory way he moved.

“I apologize for Clara. She’s protective of her produce.” His voice softened, but those wolf eyes remained sharp. “I don’t recognize you. New to Fairhaven Falls?”

Her throat tightened. The question seemed innocuous enough, but she couldn’t take any chances.

“Just passing through.”

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