Page 8 of Crocodile Tears
“She agreed?”
“She’s curious about you.Apparently, most of her recent dates have been what she calls ‘aggressively normal humans, who think shifter biology is something that should be managed rather than accepted.’”
I can relate to that particular frustration.“She doesn’t mind the security consulting?”
“She asked if you were the type to get paranoid about everyday situations.I told her that depended on your definition of paranoid.”
“What did she say to that?”
“She laughed and said anyone who works with hazardous materials understands the value of appropriate caution.”
The response surprises me.Most civilians hear about my background and either romanticize it into something from an action movie or treat it like a character flaw that needs fixing.The idea of someone who might appreciate tactical thinking as a practical skill rather than a psychological problem is genuinely appealing.“Red, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How do you know this will work?What makes you think two people with complex professional lives can build something normal together?”
Red leans back in her chair, her expression growing thoughtful.“What makes you think normal is what either of you needs?”
The question stops me cold.I’ve been assuming that civilian integration means becoming someone fundamentally different, whose life doesn’t involve tactical assessment and controlled violence, but maybe the goal isn’t to become normal.Maybe it’s to find someone who appreciates exactly who I am, reptilian biology and mercenary background included.
“Dr.Lawson sounds like exactly the kind of normal I need,” I say finally.
She grins and hands me a business card with the restaurant’s address.“That’s the spirit.Just remember, she’s as nervous about this as you are.You’re both trying to figure out how to build something real in a world that doesn’t quite know what to make of either of you.”
I pocket the card and stand to leave, filled with anticipation.It’s not the tactical awareness that comes with mission preparation but genuine curiosity and excitement about what tomorrow night might bring.“Red, thank you.This is different from what I expected.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Good different.Definitely good different.”
As I head back to the street, I’m looking forward to meeting Dr.Rebecca Lawson in a way that has nothing to do with operational objectives or mission parameters.For the first time in years, I’m curious about someone—not because of what they might know or what threat they might represent but because of who they are.
Maybe Dr.Martinez was right about this civilian integration thing.Maybe it’s not about becoming someone different.Maybe it’s about finding someone who appreciates exactly who I already am.
Chapter 3
Becci
Thedayaftermyevening call with Red, the owner of Romance Expected, I make my way to a narrow stairwell leading to Romance Expected that smells like nail polish remover and ramen broth.The oddly comforting combination somehow calms my nerves.I’ve changed clothes three times, finally settling on a professional but approachable outfit that doesn’t scream “scientist who accidentally destroys lab equipment when excited.”
I push open the cheerful red door and immediately trip over a bookshelf positioned directly inside the entrance.My ankle twists, and I grab for the nearest stable surface, which turns out to be a display of ceramic red pandas that scatter across the floor in a symphony of breaking porcelain.
“Oh no, oh no, I’m so sorry—” I scramble to collect the pieces while simultaneously trying to regain my balance and what’s left of my dignity.
“Don’t worry about those,” calls a bright voice from behind the front desk.“They were cheap tourist trap souvenirs anyway.”
The woman who hurries over to help me is exactly what I’d expect from someone who decorates exclusively in red.Auburn hair in a perfect bob, a smile that could power a small city, and an energy level that suggests she really likes coffee.She extends a hand to help me up.“You must be Dr.Lawson.I’m Red Carrington, and welcome to Romance Expected.”
I accept her help, brushing ceramic dust off my skirt.“I’m so sorry about your decorations.I can replace them—”
Red waves dismissively.“Honestly, you did me a favor.My cousin keeps bringing me red panda figurines every time she travels, and I was running out of shelf space.”She gestures at the awkwardly placed bookshelf.“Sorry about the obstacle course.”
Red grins.The waiting room is an explosion of cheerful chaos with red walls covered in floral wallpaper that somehow works, mismatched furniture that looks comfortable rather than coordinated, and an entire wall dedicated to photos of happy couples.I pause to study them, fascinated by the variety of shifter pairings represented.
“Is that a wolf and a rabbit?”I point to one photo, where a large man with distinctly lupine features has his arm around a petite woman, who’s clearly mid-shift, complete with long ears and a twitching nose.
Red follows my gaze and chuckles.“Jonas and Elia.That photo was taken during their first date, when he accidentally triggered her flight response.They’re married now with twins.”She points to the handwritten note beneath the photo.“It worked out.We promise!”
