“He’s a real looker, isn’t he?” the woman continued. “I think he was a little sweet on you, in fact.” She winked at Lainey.
Or a little suspicious of me, Lainey thought. She forced cheer into her voice. “He sure is a looker. By the way, I’m staying at Imogen’s Boarding House. Could you give me directions? I need to check in. I’m…I’m Kat, by the way.”
All the women from the salon were staring at her now, although not in an unfriendly way. They were looking her up and down with unabashed interest. They probably didn’t get a lot of new people in town.
“Her and Tate…funny, you don’t usually see cats and dogs getting together, but I could see it, I sure could,” said the older panther shifter to one of her friends.
Lainey found herself blushing again.
“Imogen’s is two miles further down this road, then you turn left at rural route 332 and go another mile,” one of the other women said, patting gently at her curlers, which were covered with a disposable plastic cap from the salon. “It’s the big white farm house on the right. There’s a rooster weathervane on the roof.”
“Thank you! See you around, then,” Lainey said, and hurried to her car without a backward glance.
As she climbed in and pulled away, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing in the rearview mirror. Tate was staring after her and…writing on a pad of paper. He was writing down her license plate number.
Well, good luck with that, she thought irritably. She’d had Katherine book the rental car under her name as well, and reimbursed her for it. She was going to do everything that she could to avoid letting her family track her down.
Yep, he was definitely interested in her as a suspect and nothing else. She felt surprisingly deflated as she headed down the road. What difference did it make? I’ll be gone in two weeks, anyway.
Chapter Two
Tate walked out of the jewelry store, frustrated. Whoever had stolen the wedding tiara, an heirloom that had been in Ginger’s family for generations, had sprayed the air with a concoction made from the scentsbane herb, which interfered with his shifter ability to pick up any identifiable scent he could track. He and Loch and several of Loch’s deputies had tried anyway, shifting into wolf form and running through the store, exploring every nook and cranny, but the scentsbane clogged their nostrils and thwarted their task.
He’d accomplished nothing, and the luscious brunette had left before he’d had a chance to chat with her any more, to breathe in her heavenly cinnamon scent and enjoy the way she made his pulse race in a way he hadn’t felt in years.
Ginger was standing near the store, chatting with several of the older women who’d come out of the beauty shop. “I’m sorry, Ginger,” Tate said to her. “I’m sure we’ll find it. Something as distinctive as that tiara – the minute someone tries to pawn it, it’ll be flagged.”
“Thank you, Tate, I appreciate you trying,” Ginger said, with a sigh. “My mom’s flipping out, of course. I hope they find it before the wedding.”
“You’re not flirting with my woman, are you?” Loch said from right behind him, his tone saying that he was joking. Mostly. But the way that he threw his arm around Ginger’s shoulders left no question as to his feelings about the plump, sexy redhead.
“Are you kidding? I’m not suicidal,” Tate laughed.
“Loch! Quit being such a caveman.” Ginger smacked her fiancé on the arm, her tone of exasperation mingled with amusement. “I am my own woman.”
Lock kissed her on the top of her head. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Besides, Tate likes the bobcat,” one of the older ladies from the salon piped up.
Ginger perked up immediately, looking at Tate with interest. “Bobcat? Really? Where? Let me check her out and give you my assessment. I can’t remember you ever liking a woman since I’ve known you.”
“She left. And I did not like her. Well, I didn’t dislike her, but…never mind,” Tate muttered. Everybody was staring at him now. Damned small towns. People had nothing better to do than gossip.
“Anyway, Loch, fill me in on what we’ve got,” Tate continued, eager to change the subject. “What else is missing besides the tiara?”
“So far, nothing, not even cash. They’re still taking inventory, though.”
“If the only thing that was stolen was the wedding tiara, that makes it sound personal. Was there any security footage? Nobody saw anything?”
“You know how it is here in Blue Moon Junction. The jewelry store hasn’t been robbed since…ever,” Loch said. “They didn’t have a security system or cameras. They had bars on their window, and a dime store lock on their door, and they thought that was enough. Up until now, it had been.”
Loch glanced at the store. “And to make things even more complicated, the owner of the store, Nigel, died a few months ago, and everything there is kind of in disarray.”
The Hoopers were a family of coyote shifters who’d been running the store since the early 1900s.