Page 22 of Shift Faced

When Rafe didn’t answer, but glared at Bruce, he sighed.

“Fine, I heard that he just quit and found another job.” Bruce turned back around and walked away. “Maybe if you gave me more information, I’d have more to say, but until then...taa taa.”

Rafe sneered at Bruce, but he knew it was a bluff. That was all Bruce knew because if it weren’t, he would have blurted it out. Bruce liked to hear himself talk. Glancing at where the Crows had disappeared, Rafe frowned. He was definitely on to something because right now, Frisco the Crow Shifter was his only suspect, and his gut told him there was more here than meets the eye, and his gut was never wrong.

CHAPTER 12

The scent of lemon oil and old whiskey lingered in the air as Billie Ann wiped down the tables, humming along to the song crackling from the battered jukebox in the corner. It was an old tune, the kind that tugged at memories. Her voice followed the melody, quiet and unpolished, but real. She wasn’t singing to impress. She was singing because it made her feel good.

She didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t feel the shift in the air behind her until she turned, cloth in hand, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus, Rafe!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He stood just inside the bar, arms crossed over his chest, a look in his eyes that made her feel like the only thing in the room worth looking at.

“Sorry,” he said with a low chuckle. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her cheeks flushed. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, voice warm and rough. “You’ve got a hell of a voice, Billie Ann.”

She laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just something I do when no one’s around. Helps me not think.”

“Well, you might want to reconsider keeping it to yourself,” he said, stepping closer. “That was... something.”

Before she could think of something clever to say, the song changed. Another slow one. Bluesy. Intimate.

He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

Her heart skipped. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” his reply was said in a husky tone that had her heart skipping beats.

There was a slight hesitation on her part, but then her hand slipped into his, and she let herself be pulled gently into his space.

He was warm and solid. He smelled like cedar, leather, and something wild she didn’t have a name for. One of his hands rested at her lower back, the other clasping hers. They began to sway, slow and easy, like they’d done this before.

“You don’t strike me as the dancing type,” she murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I’m not,” he said, his gaze steady on hers. “But I couldn’t pass this up.”

Her stomach flipped. She looked away, focusing on the feel of his hand, the way their bodies moved together like a lazy river finding its current.

“I didn’t think I’d end up back here,” she said softly, looking around as they swayed together.

“You don’t sound too broken up about it,” he replied, his thumb brushing along her back.

“I’m not.” She replied, then whispered. “I wouldn’t have met you.”

There was a pause—comfortable, but charged. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her skin tingle.

“One way or another, we would have met.” His voice was deep and solid. “Fate has a way of working things out.”

“Fate?” she echoed, her voice tight with uncertainty.

She tilted her head up to look at him. God, he was handsome with his messy dark hair that begged for her fingers to tangle in it, gorgeous blue eyes that seemed to see through every defense she had, and that maddening, sexy smirk that somehow set her on fire and calmed her all at once.

“I don’t believe in fate,” she added, the words sharper than she meant them to be. “You’re here because Mac asked you to come. That’s not fate. That’s an assignment.”

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