“Unless she’s certified, it’s not admissible as evidence,” Portia snapped. She had gotten up from her desk and walked over to them.
“I am certified as a post-death communications facilitator,” Ginger said.
“Got the paperwork to prove that?” Portia sneered.
The sheriff turned to Portia and fixed her with a cold gaze. “I just spoke to you about this.”
“You can’t reassign me. My aunt won’t let you,” Portia’s eyes blazed with anger.
“Your aunt doesn’t run this department. I do. Last chance, Portia. Now go sit down immediately.” The sheriff’s eyes turned amber, and Ginger shivered involuntarily. He was going all Alpha on Portia, and he was a damned scary sight when he did that.
Portia turned stiffly and walked back to her desk.
“Forget about her,” Lola whispered.
Ginger winced. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.
As she walked back to the filing room, she saw another werewolf watching her with a frown. He was a handsome, broad-shouldered man who was almost as muscular as Sheriff Armstrong. Loch walked over to her and introduced her to him.
“Ginger, this is Jax Mackenzie, my lieutenant. Jax, this is our special guest. You’ve heard all about her.”
“Sure did.” He flashed a brief smile at that, and Ginger almost snickered, but sobered up quickly as she remembered how much trouble her little gaffe had caused. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, and he nodded at her with no expression on his face, and went back to the case file he’d been studying.
“He doesn’t like me, does he?” Ginger asked in a low voice as the sheriff walked back to the file room with her.
“He doesn’t like anybody. Don’t take it personally.”
Ginger forced a smile, and glanced back at Portia, who was staring at her with eyes like daggers. When Portia saw her looking, she scowled and her gaze immediately dropped to her desk.
It’s going to be a long damned two weeks, Ginger thought, stepping into the file room and shutting the door firmly behind her.
Chapter Six
“Marigold, you’ve got a visitor. And a handsome one, at that.” Imogen’s creaky voice drifted into the sitting room, where Marigold, Ginger, and most of the half dozen students from the archeology group were playing spades.
Brenda and the professor were nowhere in sight. Tallulah’s gaze kept snapping up every time they heard a noise in the hallway, and then when the professor failed to reappear, her face would fall and she’d turn back to the card game.
They all looked up as the bartender from the Hoot Owl walked into the room. He wore jeans and motorcycle boots and a t-shirt with a skull on it. If Ginger wasn’t trying to find off unwanted erotic thoughts about the sheriff, she’d have found him totally hot.
“Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asked Marigold.
“Uhh…” she glanced at Ginger, startled.
“Yes, she can!” Ginger called out.
Marigold shot her an “I know where you sleep” look, stood up, and gestured at Ginger to come with her. They walked outside, standing in front of the boarding house.
A warm wind ruffled the branches of the trees, and a chorus of crickets creaked in the background. The stars were like hard bright diamonds set in a cloudless, black velvet sky. Ginger couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at the sky when she was in the city.
“You left before I got a chance to ask you out last night,” the bartender said. “My name’s Henry, by the way.”
He stuck out his hand and Marigold shook it.
“Sorry, I ah…”
“It’s my fault she left. That whole thing with the sheriff,” Ginger said. “The temperature in the room suddenly dropped 50 degrees and it seemed safest to head for the hills.”
“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “That was classic. I don’t think a woman’s ever turned him down before. It was beautiful.” Then his face grew serious. “Don’t tell him I said that. Please. Seriously. Don’t.”
“I won’t,” Ginger promised.
He turned to Marigold. “So – dinner tomorrow night? I could pick you up around six?”
“Uhh, well – the thing is-“
“The thing is, she’d love to!” Ginger jumped in.
“Great!” Henry’s face lit up in a smile. Then he stood there awkwardly for a minute while Margiold flashed a pained, polite smile. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I’ll let you get back to your card game.”
Marigold waited until he left to turn on Ginger with a scowl. “What the heck? There’s a reason I left without talking to him last night. I already looked into our future. I saw me going back to New York by myself. And crying.”
“You know what? You really need to stop looking into your own love future. It’s ruining your love life.”
“Or saving it,” Marigold grumbled. “Wouldn’t you have wanted to know what was going to happen with Sir Douche A Lot, back in New York?”