6. Chapter 6 #2
"Not girlfriend. Werewolves don’t have girlfriends.
We mate. And yes, until the wedding, at least," I say quickly, though my wolf growls in disagreement beneath my skin.
"My mother is… persistent about me finding a mate.
It's complicated werewolf pack politics.
As the alpha's son, I'm expected to settle down, find a mate, take over as alpha, co ntinue the line.
She's been bombarding me with eligible mates for months. I need a reprieve."
Julia's lips twitch, amusement briefly overtaking her suspicion.
"Poor you. Drowning in willing women must be so difficult."
"It's not funny," I growl, my patience wearing thin. "And it’s beyond distracting. If I could pretend that I found a true mate with you, I would have a good reason in the pack’s eyes to remain single after you leave. After all, wolves mate for life."
Julia doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t dismiss my idea, as crazy as it is, either. Instead, she leans back in her chair and tilts her head sideways. Like a freaking puppy. It’s adorable.
"And how exactly would pretending to be your girlfriend help me find the tiara?"
"Like I said, I’m next in line to be the alpha of the Saltford Bay Pack.
We’re a small but old pack. With you as my mate, Silverine would not only dismiss you as a potential suspect, but she wouldn’t dare fire you without cause.
" I spread my hands. "Plus, people are already talking since Silverine saw you sprawled all over me. "
Julia pinches her lips and her eyes flash with anger, then she schools her face back into its professional neutrality.
"Let me get this straight. We pretend to be struck down by some kind of insta mate bond to get your mother off your back and prevent Silverine from firing me?"
"That's the gist of it."
"Why me? Why not ask someone local?"
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the way my wolf paces eagerly at the thought of having her scent on me .
"You're leaving after the wedding, which makes you perfect. Temporary solution to a temporary problem. No messy attachments, no local gossip that lasts beyond your stay."
She considers this, clearly weighing pros and cons behind those expressive hazel eyes.
"What would this fake relationship entail, exactly? Hand-holding? Public declarations of undying love?"
"Nothing dramatic." I shift in my seat, my wolf already feeling triumphant. "Just enough to be convincing. My mother is hosting a shindig at her house this weekend. You'd attend as my mate. Maybe we're seen together around town a few times. Simple."
Julia's eyes narrow. "There's something you're not telling me."
Damn, she's perceptive . I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
"Werewolves have certain expectations when it comes to relationships. Scent is important to us. To be convincing, you'd need to, well, to carry my scent. And I'd need to carry yours."
Her cheeks flush slightly. "Meaning?"
"Meaning we'd need to spend enough time in close proximity that our scents mingle.
Share a living space." I keep my voice matter of fact despite the way my heart rate picks up at the thought.
"New bonded mates spend lots of time together and as the future alpha's mate, it would be expected that you’d come live with me. "
"You want me to move in with you?" Her voice rises an octave.
"Just temporarily," I add quickly. "I have a guest room."
Julia stands abruptly, pacing the small confines of my office. She stops, fixing me with a penetrating stare.
"This is insane. Absolutely insane."
"Maybe," I concede. "But it solves both our problems. "
Julia resumes her pacing, her curls bouncing with each determined step. I watch her, trying not to focus on the way her jeans hug her curves or how the soft material of her sweater slides across her skin as she moves.
And I fail, by the way my wolf yearns for control, scratching inside my skin like it wants to break free.
Finally, she stops, hands on her hips.
"If—and that's a big if—I agree to this madness, then there will be no touching. Nothing physical."
"Of course," I say promptly. "Well, nothing above what is strictly necessary. If I don’t scent mark you, the whole thing falls apart."
She chews her lower lip, considering.
"And as soon as the wedding is over, we go our separate ways?"
"You have my word." I meet her gaze steadily. "No mess, no fuss."
"Your word as sheriff or your word as a werewolf?"
"Both," I say firmly. "They're one and the same to me."
Julia sighs, sinking back into the chair.
"I must be out of my mind." She rubs her temples, then looks up at me with a resigned expression. "Fine. I'll do it."
Relief, and something warmer, floods through me. My wolf practically preens with satisfaction.
"Perfect." I extend my hand across the desk. "Partners, then?"
She hesitates for just a moment before placing her smaller hand in mine. "Partners."
The touch sends an electric current up my arm, and I have to force myself to let go after an appropriate handshake duration. Julia seems to feel it too, a slight flush rising to her cheeks as she withdraws her hand.
"So," she says, clearly trying to maintain professionalism, "when do we start this… scent-mingling process?"
"Tonight would be best," I reply, gathering the case files into a neat stack. "The sooner we establish the scent marking, the more convincing it will be. My cabin's not far from here."
"Tonight?" Her eyes widen. "But I don't have any of my things."
"We can stop by the manor so you can pack a bag." I stand, shrugging into my jacket. "Minimal disruption to your schedule, I promise."
Julia stares at me for a long moment, uncertainty warring with determination in her expression. Finally, she nods.
"This might be the stupidest thing I've ever done," she mutters, following me to the door. "And I once accidentally booked a clown for a funeral, so that's saying something."
Despite the tension of the situation, I find myself fighting a smile.
"I'll try to be less traumatizing than a funeral clown."
"See that you are, Sheriff." She brushes past me into the hallway, leaving that tantalizing vanilla-cinnamon scent in her wake. "Because if this blows up in our faces, we'll both have a lot more to worry about than just a missing tiara."
As I lock my office door behind us, the weight of what we're attempting settles on my shoulders. This plan is risky at best, disastrous at worst. Pretending Julia is my mate when my wolf is already showing clear interest in her is playing with fire.
But as I watch her stride ahead of me, shoulders squared with determination despite her fatigue, I can't bring myself to regret the suggestion. There's something about Julia Schroeder that calls to me on a level I'm not ready to examine too closely .
For now, I'll focus on the practical benefits of our arrangement: solving the case, appeasing my mother, restoring peace to Saltford Bay.
And if my wolf has other ideas about where this fake relationship might lead… well, that's a problem for another day.