Sealed With A Kiss (Virtue Shifters Book 3) Read online

  Ryan thought Becky's friend Missy was the most adorable person who had ever lived.

  Even better, she was obviously kind and generous enough to overlook the fact that he'd made a total idiot of himself. She could forgive him not knowing his own name! She seemed okay with him being a shifter! And she was so wonderfully confident in herself, giving him a hard time about keeping up with her as a pitcher. And she was even willing to let him tag along as her partner on the pitching field.

  It was practically, Ryan thought happily, like a date. He climbed up onto the dunk tank seat again, but for the moment, there was no one waiting to try to dunk him. That was great, as far as he was concerned. It meant he could watch Missy, over there in her booth. She moved like a pro, obviously very comfortable with the hot oil and the batter and all the toppings.

  Ryan had a vivid moment of imagining what he could do with all those toppings, if Missy was agreeable, and yelped when his bored cousin threw a ball at the bulls-eye and dunked him. He came up spluttering and Becky said, "She's your mate, isn't she?"

  "What?" Ryan shook his head violently, spraying water everywhere as he got out of the tank. "No! That'd be ridiculous! I just met her! I'm not looking for a happily ever after right now!"

  "'Just met them' is how mates work," Becky reminded him dryly. Well, at least somebody was dry. Ryan shook himself again and reached for a towel, but a small horde of children, escorted by a woman with purple hair, arrived at the booth, squealing eagerly.

  Ryan, knowing his duty, climbed back on the dunk tank seat, and grinned down at the kids as they did an absolutely terrible job of throwing balls at the target. One of them ran to the purple-haired woman and leaned up against her, giving her big mournful eyes. "Can I try again, Mom? Pleeeeaaaaase? This is my adorable face! You can't resist my adorable face!"

  "I can if there are six other kids I'd also have to buy tickets for," the woman said heartlessly. "You had your shot. It's time to go on the Whirligig and see if it goes fast enough to make you puke."

  The kid's eyes lit up. "YEAH I'M GONNA PUKE!" He ran off with the others in tow, and the purple-haired woman gave Becky a frazzled, if happy, smile as she followed her charges.

  Ryan followed them with his gaze, then lifted his eyebrows at Becky, who grinned. "That was Noah Brannigan, Virtue's very own human hurricane, and his mom, Mabs. They moved here last year and she just got married to a local, actually."

  "A local, or a local?" Because there were people whose families had lived in Virtue a long time, and they were locals, but then there were families who were shifters, and they were locals, if you couldn't say shifter out loud due to a fear of being overheard. Ryan figured Becky would understand.

  And she did, saying, "A local," with the same emphasis he'd used.

  Ryan said, "Huh," and looked after Mabs Brannigan again. "I thought you said there weren't any romantic prospects in Virtue."

  "Well, ew! Jake Rowly is like fifteen years older than me! And also he'd left town for ages. But mostly, ew! But what about you and Missy, huh huh huh? What's the deal? You turned into a seal, Ry!"

  "Did she freak out?" He sounded wistful even to himself. "She seemed okay, but…"

  "How about you ask her." Becky sounded suddenly pleased with herself. "I'll go watch her booth for a minute and send her over."

  "Oh—no—you—oh, you did." Ryan watched his cousin bounce off to Missy's booth and admitted to himself he wasn't exactly unhappy about getting to talk to Missy again. It was just…what was he supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, I turn into a seal?'

  She already knows that, his seal pointed out from somewhere in the depths of his soul, where it was still being embarrassed about his whole 'Hi I'm Becky' thing.

  Well, I know, I just—whatever argument Ryan had intended to make was silenced by Missy exiting her food booth with a dubious expression. She was hot pink from the heat and sweat-damp curls stuck to her forehead, darker than the rest of her hair. Her thick apron was splattered with oil and batter, and she shucked off long canvas gloves that protected her arms from the oil as she approached the dunking booth.

  Ryan scrambled down from the seat, trying his best smile on her. "Hey."

  It seemed to work. Some of the dubiousness left her expression, and she returned the smile. "Hey. Becks said you wanted to talk to me."

  "I did! I do. I'd like that." Ryan kept smiling. She was awfully cute. Smaller than he expected a softball pitcher to be, but then again, he had no idea what size they usually were. And maybe she wasn't exactly tiny. Maybe it was just that he'd originally seen her from a seat six feet up. Really cute either way, though. He was pretty sure he was still smiling. Like an idiot, now. Just smiling. Not talking. Just smiling.

  Missy's own smile started to turn into a grin. "So, uh, are you gonna talk, or what?"

  "Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah! Yes. I'm going to talk." God, usually he was good with women, not a gibbering star-struck fool. "I wanted to talk to you about, um…"

  She waited while a strange sort of panic rose in Ryan's chest. He wasn't used to talking about being a shifter with strangers, not even strangers that he'd already shifted in front of. He swallowed, trying to ease the nervousness, and Missy's amusement suddenly softened into sympathy. She stepped closer to him—she smelled like oil and sweat and sweet batter and cinnamon, which all together somehow made a wonderful scent—and said, in a gentle voice, "Is this about being a seal?"

  "Yes!" His voice cracked like it hadn't since he was fifteen, and Ryan could feel color building in his face. "I'm sorry about that earlier, that kind of thing just doesn't happen—"

  Unless it's your mate, his seal said helpfully. Ryan squashed it, trying to focus on Missy's gentle, patient expression. "It's fine," she said quietly. "I mean, it's obviously strange, but I'm not going to spill your secrets or anything." Her smile lit up, suddenly brilliant, and she leaned in to whisper, "You might say my lips are…sealed, in fact."

  Ryan burst out laughing, and knew then, for certain, that his seal was right. Missy Clark was his fated mate.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ryan had a great laugh. As good as his body, and Missy had never seen a guy as sizzling hot as he was. A wave of relief swept over her, feeling as hot as the steam off her booth's oil kettles. She'd thought maybe the 'my lips are sealed' line would be stupid, or he'd have heard it a million times already, but his big belly laugh suggested he'd genuinely thought she was funny.

  Missy couldn't ever remember caring much if a guy thought she was funny, but she really wanted Ryan to like her. Which was silly, because she'd only just met him, and if he was here for the fair he wasn't staying long, but…she wanted him to like her anyway. She could practically hear herself saying so there! to herself about it, and smiled. "So, um…"

  "I am sorry about that," Ryan said in a rush. "Obviously it's not the kind of mistake we make often. Shifters, I mean."

  "So it's more than just you and Becky?"

  "Yeah. There's quite a few of us, especially—" He hesitated, and Missy, a little to her own surprise, put her hand on his arm. His skin was wonderfully warm, even though he'd been in and out of the dunk tank several times that morning. Her touch made little hairs rise, though, and he shivered. It looked like a good kind of shiver.

  It looked like the kind of shiver she would get, if he touched her.

  Missy liked that thought, but she also wanted to reassure him. "Hey, look, it's okay. You don't have to tell me everything. I mean, you just met me, and things have been a little weird since then."

  Ryan laughed again, not as loudly this time, but still with clear pleasure. "They have been. But I do want to tell you that…um. That I wouldn't have done that, even accidentally, if I didn't feel instinctively like I could trust you. So there's that."

  "That's great!" Missy felt like an emoticon, one with a really big dumb open-mouthed grin. "I'm glad. And…if you ever want to tell me more, I'd like to hear it." She sent a rueful glance back toward her food booth. "But I can't right now. The booth is
crazy busy all fair long, and you have to really know what you're doing to keep up."

  "Let me know if you need help?"

  The idea of being in close, hot quarters with Ryan all afternoon just about took Missy's breath away, and she gave a squeaky little giggle. "I don't know. You'd have to put more clothes on, and that would be a real shame."

  She felt a blush beginning to build as Ryan looked down at his Speedo-clad self, said, "Oh," in disappointment. Then, like he'd actually heard what she'd said, he said, "Oh!" again much more hopefully, and looked up at her with big gorgeous brown eyes. "You like what you see?"

  Missy was definitely blushing now. "Oh yes. Yes I do. Very much. Veeerrrry much. Oh, God. I'm just going to go back over there to my booth now before I say anything else stupid."

  She fled, but not before Ryan called, "I like what I see, too!" after her.

  Becky had obviously heard him. Half the fair had probably heard him, but only Becky was in Missy's booth serving up funnel cakes and giving Missy a super-teasing grin. "Ooooh, he liiiikes you!"

  "He's demented." Missy swiped her forearm across her forehead, trying to get rid of sweat before she pulled her gloves back on. "I look like an overheated troll. He's only being polite."

  "I've known Ryan my whole life," Becky said wryly. "He's not being polite."

  "How!" Missy started dishing up funnel cakes and smiling at customers, but she kept Becky pinned in the booth with a pointed glare. "How could you have known him your whole life and I've never met him? That's the cousin you go to visit at Christmas? You never thought to mention he was gorgeous?"

  "Of course not! He's my cousin!"

  That gave Missy pause. "Yeah, okay, legit, but still, no pictures?"

  "Why would I bother showing you pictures of my cousin if it didn't occur to me that you'd think he was hot?"

  "Oh. Yeah, okay, that seems fair, I guess. Anyway, I can't believe your cousin's that gorgeous and you didn't tell me. Also you've got a line at the booth now and Ryan's trying to take tickets but he doesn't have anywhere to put the change." She grinned at the slender, but well-built, man looking increasingly desperate as people tried to give them their tickets and their money.

  Becky yelped and ran off to work her own booth, and Missy spent the rest of the morning serving up fried dough and thinking illicit thoughts about the guy on the dunk tank seat.

  * * *

  There was a lunchtime rush, way worse than she was used to. Usually the first day of the fair was comparatively quiet, with people maybe not getting off work until the evening, or figuring the good stuff wouldn't start until Friday. Thursdays were usually the day Missy got to see the most of the fair, in fact.

  This year, though, it seemed the people of Virtue had not gotten the memo. They came in swarms and droves, and Missy was too busy to even check her phone when it buzzed a few times just before one, when her help for the afternoon was meant to show up.

  Her help didn't show, and Missy was a hot, sweaty, frustrated mess by the time she finally got to check her phone to find a missed call, a voice mail, and finally an apologetic text. Reading it, she said, "Oh, God," out loud in sympathy: her help's three-year-old had put a bean up his nose, and while he was fine, they'd had to go to the hospital to have it removed. Missy's frustration at being left in the lurch faded into helpless laughter as a photo of a very sad little boy with the bean, now in his palm, came through.

  She sent a text back, saying it was okay and that she didn't know how parents did it, and sagged against her booth stool for a moment, off her feet for the first time in hours.

  And that was when she realized she'd stood Ryan up, and missed their pitching date.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Missy Clark hadn't shown up.

  Intellectually, Ryan understood why. When Becky had banished him from the dunking booth at the stroke of twelve, Missy had been incredibly busy making funnel cakes for a line that snaked so far back it blended into the crowd.

  He had even considered going over and offering to help, but quickly realized he'd only be in the way. He had no idea what to do, and she clearly couldn't teach him right then.

  And besides, she'd been right, earlier. His clothes, even when he got dressed, weren't at all suitable for working with hot oil and splashing batter. So he made sure everything was okay with the dunking booth, which it was. One of Becky's friends had come to take money and tickets for a few hours, while Becky, looking forward to getting dunked as relief from the heat, climbed onto the seat.

  Then Ryan had gone to wander the fair himself. There were booths and rides and food and vegetables of unusual size, a pet farm and some show-quality cows, a whole tent of unbelievably gorgeous quilts, and he saw it all as just a way to pass the time until Missy met him for the pitching contest.

  Only she hadn't met him.

  She obviously hadn't met him because she'd been so impossibly busy at the booth. Ryan knew that. It made sense.

  He was still moping around like a lonely puppy when a pretty young woman came over to where he leaned the pitching range fence and said, "My partner couldn't make it, and it looks like yours couldn't either, but I've still got a slot for the contest. Do you want to be my partner?"

  "Um." Ryan looked around one more time, hoping Missy might show up at the last minute, but really, it already was the last minute. The girl asking him had to be one of the last contestants. He shook off his doldrums and smiled at her. "Sure. I'm Ryan."

  "I'm Kelly. Nice to meet you. I asked them to put me last because I was hoping my partner would show up, but he never did, so…" She shrugged. "So we're up. Are you ready?"

  "As ready as I'll ever be, but you should know I'm not a good pitcher."

  Disappointment flashed across her face. "Then why are you even here? We can give it a shot anyway, right?"

  "My partner—"

  Your mate, his seal said disapprovingly, apparently not thinking 'partner' was sufficient.

  Ryan said hush! Whole relationships are built around 'partner!' to the seal, who sat back to consider that as Ryan said, "My partner is really good, and I told her she wouldn't win with me backing her, but she didn't mind. But then she couldn't make it," aloud to Kelly.

  She gave him a thorough once-over. "I tell you what, if you were my partner, I'd have tried real hard to get here."

  Ryan smiled briefly. Kelly was cute enough, but she had nothing on Missy Clark, so he felt like he was only being polite when he said, "And if I were yours, so would I."

  Kelly dimpled, and they went to sign in and do their pitches. Kelly threw first, and Ryan, watching the ball whiz toward the target, said, "Oh no. I'm going to bring you down, too."

  "You look strong," Kelly said. "Just don't totally embarrass me."

  He didn't, by his own standards, but every time he threw, Kelly winced. Her own pitches were straight and true and powerful, and got cheers from the watching crowd. His, at least, didn't get any boos. Kelly was still obviously disappointed when they didn't earn a ribbon, and Ryan spread his hands helplessly. "I told you I wasn't very good."

  Kelly tossed her hair. "Well, I tried. Want to get an ice cream cone?"

  "I—uh—" Ryan did not, in fact, want to get ice cream, or anything else, with Kelly. He glanced in the direction of the dunking booth, as if he might magically see Missy way over there.

  Instead, he saw Missy only a dozen steps away, her face pink and her chest heaving like she'd been running. It felt like his whole soul lit up, seeing her, but her expression was stiff with hurt. She turned around swiftly without meeting his eye, and hurried away again, through the crowd.

  Ryan, confused, took a step or two after her. "Missy…?"

  "Oh." Kelly's voice went sharp, and not at all nice. "Missy Clark? Is she who you were waiting for? Well, I know for sure you wouldn't have won with her, 'cause if you couldn't win with me she didn't stand a chance."

  "Excuse me?" Ryan looked down at Kelly, surprised.

  Her expression was disdainful. "The little Virt
ue softball team thinks she's pretty good, but I know better. You can do better than that. Come on, let's get ice cream."

  Offense on Missy's behalf rose in Ryan's chest. "No, thanks. I'd rather enjoy my time at the fair."

  It took her a few seconds to understand the insult in that, and by then, Ryan was hurrying after Missy. He was taller, and should be able to see her easily, but he lost her in the crowd, and it was only his seal's ahem! that made him notice her hunching in the shade of somebody's tent as he scurried by.

  He spun around and came back to her, crouching so she didn't have to stand. "Missy, I am so sorry—"

  "No, you shouldn't be." She lifted her face, which was still pink, but this time more like she was upset, not because she was hot. "I was late. In fact, I was more than late. I missed the whole thing. There was no reason for you to wait, or not participate with somebody else."

  "In my defense," Ryan said, "I had no idea she was such a bitch until I'd already agreed to pitch with her."

  Missy laughed, a surprised blurt of sound, and suddenly, ferociously, wiped her hand across her eyes. Ryan thought having made her cry was possibly the worst thing he'd ever done in his entire life. "I'm so sorry."

  "No, I'm sorry!" she said. "I got so busy with the booth and my help couldn't make it so I was even busier and the next thing I knew it was too late and then I saw you with Kelly Wells and she is a bitch, she's the kind of person who you say 'good game' to and she says 'for me, anyway,' and the worst part is she really is better than me—"

  "Nah." Ryan spoke with conviction. "She might, and I stress the might, be a better softball pitcher than you, but I'm sure she's not better than you. You think I'd turn into a seal in front of her?"

  "God, I hope not," Missy said, abruptly serious. "She'd probably mount you on a wall."

  Ryan, hoping he was about to be funny and not overstepping boundaries, purred, "I could handle being mounted on a wall if it's what you want, but in a whole different way than what you're suggesting."

  Missy's eyes popped and she blushed through a shout of laughter. "Oh my God. I can't believe you said that."