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“We have to get to the next house before the storm sets in.” I sniffed the air. “We don’t have long. I can feel it.”

“Are we driving?”

“I don’t keep a car here. I’m going to shift and you’re going to hang on while I run.” It was far from ideal but it was what we had.

“That sounds really weird.”

I wasn’t wild about it either. In a split second, I’d gone from never having shared my secret with a human to allowing one to ride on my back. It wasn’t exactly a joyride for me either. My bear liked it though.

She’s our mate, my bear crowed happily.

He needed to get a grip.

She grabbed my arm. “I threw my knife at one of the spies. That jackass probably still has it. Do you have any spares?”

My jaw dropped. “You threw a knife?” Why was I just now hearing about this? How many risks could one civilian take in a day?

“Yep. Got him right in the shoulder.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I wish I’d hit him in the throat. I need to practice more.”

My bear rumbled. He liked how fierce she was. I didn’t like thinking of her confronting those monsters. But she was better off with a weapon than without. I collected a knife from my storage crate that would fit her hand well.

I handed it to her. My bear preened when my hand brushed over hers and she gave me a nice smile.

“Thanks.” She turned the knife over in her hands. She touched the blade before putting it back in the sheath and tucking it in her pocket.

“I’m going to shift. When I do, climb on my back and hang on tight. But first I’m going to have to take these clothes off.”

Julie grinned. “Do I say giddy-up?”

“I’m not a horse,” I growled.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I left the clothes on the bed and shifted back into my bear.

I waited on all fours as she gingerly threw her leg over my back, then pulled all of her weight on top of me.

She clutched at my back and buried her face in my fur.

I’d expected to resent the feel of a human on my back. I didn’t. Not one bit. Not if that human was Julie.

***

Excerpt from Single Dad Matchmate:

“I have found the perfect man for you,” the matchmaker said as she peered at me over her glasses. “However, I don’t want you to immediately discount him because of his location.”

Another day, another mimosa at Victory Matchmaking. This one was sweeter rather than bitter. “Now I’m curious.”

“He’s in Arkansas,” she said, speaking quickly. “If you’ll give it a chance, then--”

I held up my hand. I didn’t need someone to convince me the south could be a decent place to live. “I’m from south Arkansas. My grandmother lived in Fayetteville. I spent a lot of time there growing up.”

She adjusted her glasses and blinked at me a few times. “You’re from Arkansas? I had no idea.”

“No one does.” At least she was too professional to make the usual jokes about me having all my teeth and wearing shoes. And she didn’t comment on my lack of accent. I didn’t work to drop my southern twang because I was ashamed. I dropped it because I wanted clients to focus on my work, and not the way I talked. 

She handed over a sealed folder. “He’s thirty-four. He’s a former military officer. He’s currently the elected sheriff in Pine River, a volunteer firefighter and he has two children, ages five and six. His ex-wife has no contact. He does have a lot of extended family living in the area, and he owns his home.”

She stopped short of actually telling me his name. She explained the agency prefers to remove the temptation for clients to internet stalk their dates before meeting them. They find it makes the clients more receptive to their matches. Although it irked me slightly, I understood sometimes too much information can be a bad thing.

It sounded like she’d made this guy up for me. I was a little nervous about the kids, but not opposed. “When do I meet him?”

“As soon as you’re ready. The agency will set up a plane ticket and hotel for you.” She kept talking, explaining the process for the first date, but I couldn’t focus. My mind skipped ahead. I didn’t want to fly down to Arkansas, spend the weekend with a guy, and then come back to the city. I wanted a change in my life.

A very big change. “You know what? Go ahead and make the arrangements. But don’t get me a return ticket. This is going to sound crazy, but I’m going to go stay in Arkansas for a while. I could use a break from the city. I’m going to give this a shot.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Ah. Okay. I didn’t expect that. But we will certainly do whatever we can to accommodate you.”

Thank goodness this was confidential. I would not be telling anyone else I was moving, however temporarily, to another state to go on a date with a man I’d never met. 

Because that was one-hundred percent crazy. 

If any friend of mine told me she was moving for a blind date, I’d stage an intervention. I’d call her family, her friends, her co-workers—anyone I could think of to make her stop. 

But a guy was only a small portion of my motivation. When I moved to New York City, I’d loved everything it had to offer. I took nothing for granted. Not the theater, or the museums, or the opportunities. But the life I lived now was nothing like that. I worked, and I went out. 

I was sick of the social engineering. Of the jockeying for party invites. I didn’t want any more dinner parties or weekends in the Hamptons or ferry rides to Nantucket. I didn’t want to attend a gala, or sit on a board. 

I wanted a normal life, like the one I had growing up. I wanted a family, with kids that I drove to school each day. I didn’t want my future kids on a waiting list—since birth—for a Kindergarten where the moms wanted to one-up each other. I wanted to come home to a house with a swing set, and I wanted to go for a bike ride, or to a movie on a date night with the father of my children. 

New York City could be a great place to raise a kid, if that’s what you wanted. But I needed a break. That evening, it struck me as I packed my bags that I had nothing to care for here. No pets. No plants. No partner. No children. I’d hired the right people to run my company while I was away, and it really was time to go. 

I was in a daze on the way to the airport, and while waiting to board. I couldn’t believe I was about to leave the state for a man. But I wasn’t turning back now. 

* * *

In Pine River, I found a charming restaurant called Apple Pie Diner. Or it was lovely until it caught on fire. Right as I bit into their spicy chicken sandwich, I smelled smoke. 

A second later, two waiters shoved the doors open. “Get outside! Go! Run!” they screamed. 

A truck yanked to a stop in front of the building, and a man wearing full firefighting gear, minus the helmet, jumped out of the truck. He was stunning, even with the thick gear on. His brown hair was full, his jaw was strong, and his skin was tan, with just a little scruff on his face. My eyes met his as he pushed his way into the building.

A few minutes later, an ambulance arrived, along with a car that said sheriff on it. The men and women that raced inside were all fit and gorgeous, though not one compared to the first firefighter. 

Eventually, that first firefighter reappeared. He raked his hand through his thick brown hair. A little soot was streaked across his handsome face but it only added to his looks. If this was how the men were made in Pine River, then my move to Arkansas was worth it, even if I only looked and never got to touch.