The Pegasus Marshal's Mate (U.S. Marshal Shifters Book 2) Page 5

  That was smooth. She had always liked smooth. She had always felt smooth: legs waxed, nails polished, body kept taut and slender, skin kept flawless so she wouldn’t show her age. But now smoothness was exactly what she wanted to get away from. She thought of Martin offering her a brownie sundae in bed. The little crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

  He hadn’t known how to casually book a midday hotel room. He wasn’t smooth. He was smart and powerful and a good leader—he was more serious than smoothness would imply.

  Martin looked like the kind of man you could grow old with. He looked like the kind of man who wouldn’t mind you growing old with him, even if you showed every single year of it.

  Even without Martin shining out ahead of her like an oasis, Tiffani thought, she had too much baggage for this kid to carry around. What was he, thirty?

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said casually, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. “It’s a little late for me.”

  Hard-earned experience had taught her that most of the time, outright refusing a date was a bad idea. Nice as he seemed, Bruce Tompoulidis could change on a dime, could slap her polite no away hard by calling her a self-centered spoiled bimbo (a regular phrase in the comments section of articles that mentioned her) and asking why she’d ever thought he was interested in the first place. Besides, if he wasn’t the type to turn mean, she could use a friend.

  Bruce said nothing. Tiffani tried again.

  “Rain check? No drinks tonight, but disbelieving eye contact tomorrow when McMillan is talking and maybe a cup of bad bailiff-special coffee?”

  His smile tightened just a little. “Sure. If you like having the enamel stripped off your teeth, there’s nothing that beats courthouse coffee. But it would be a shame to do that to your smile.”

  So it really had been a date invitation, then. And just a date invitation. Tiffani had never had a friendship kick off with comments on a pretty smile.

  She gave him the smile, but this time she kept her lips closed. “Well, I’m a sucker for convenience. And it is right here.”

  “Close by is always good,” Bruce agreed.

  They stood awkwardly facing each other before he cleared his throat and muttered something too low for her to hear before shuffling off down the hall.

  Great. She’d alienated him completely.

  One time, Gordon had gotten mad at her for talking to one of his friends—a big, hammy-faced investment banker she wasn’t the least bit attracted to, a guy she only liked because he was the rare big money guy who was a family man at heart. There was something sweet about this guy who could have bought a small island waxing poetic about Saturday cookouts in the backyard and his kid’s art projects and his golden retriever’s ongoing efforts to learn how to shake hands.

  “I was just being friendly,” she’d said to Gordon that night as he had fumed.

  “Men don’t want to be friends with you, Tiffani,” he’d said.

  “Some men might.”

  “Why?” It had been the way he’d said it that had hurt her. If he had still sounded angry, she could have forgiven him for it, but he had said it so coldly, so... rationally. Why would a man want to be friends with her? That wasn’t what she was for.

  She had tried to forget about it, but that was when she’d really understood the truth about her marriage. Once her looks started to fade, once she wasn’t fun anymore, once Gordon decided he was willing to take on the hassle of a second divorce... it would be over for them.

  Because Gordon didn’t really like talking to her, and he couldn’t imagine that anyone else did, either.

  Even Gordon had realized he’d gone too far that time, though in typical Gordon fashion he hadn’t apologized for it and had only tried to make it right by heaping presents on her. Diamond earrings after diamond necklace. His presents were always things to make her look prettier. But at least he had tried.

  “Tiffani?”

  She spun around, half-expecting to see Bruce again. But somewhere down deep inside her, she knew it wasn’t him. Somewhere down deep, she had already started to relax.

  Martin.

  Oh, she was in such trouble. Being this comfortable around him scared her half to death.

  Chapter Six: Martin

  Martin’s afternoon started with an interrogation.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Martin had expected questions when he got back to the office, but not a faceful of bristling, hackles-raised werewolf. The ambush made his pegasus flare up, wings ruffled, hooves raised, and the last thing he needed was a shifter stand-off. Alpha animals tended to react to any fear or alarm with teeth bared, ready to fight whatever the problem was until it went away. So he understood Colby’s intensity, or at least the human half of him did. The animal half just wanted to fight things out until everyone was calmer.

  His pegasus knew Colby was part of their herd and didn’t want to hurt him. His pegasus just wanted to grab that wolf pup by the scruff of his neck and shake him until he stopped yelling.

  He compromised by flattening his hand against Colby’s chest.

  “Down, boy.”

  “That’s not funny,” Colby said. “That’s not even a little funny.”

  “We were worried about you,” Gretchen said. She grabbed Colby’s arm and drew him back a little, but kept on talking to Martin. “Theo was seriously on the verge of asking any cops to call us if they spotted your license plate.”

  Theo at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed by this, but he just turned his attention to the floor and said, “I don’t like things going missing.”

  “I’m not a thing, son,” Martin said. “Or part of your hoard. I went out for lunch.”

  “Yes, but—” Theo looked at Gretchen.

  “No way,” she told him. “You’re the designated talker.”

  “I don’t like being that,” Theo said. “Can I stop being that?”

  “No,” Gretchen and Colby said in unison.

  Theo sighed.

  “I’m happy to leave while the three of you work this out,” Martin said, now a little amused.

  “We’ve been worried about you, sir,” Theo said.

  That made the amusement fade away pretty quickly.

  “You’re tired,” Theo went on. “You’re always here after we leave and you’re usually here before we show up. You’ve been quiet. If you’re still grieving, if this is a hard time for you, please, let us help you. Or at least talk to us, sir.”

  Colby frowned suddenly and then sniffed the air, a wolfish trick he didn’t usually pull while in human form. Then a slow, delighted grin spread out across his face.

  “Never mind, actually,” Colby said. “I completely understand and applaud your decision to take a... long lunch.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gretchen said, scowling.

  Colby leaned over to her, putting his mouth against her ear, but instead of whispering, loudly said, “Our boss smells like sex.”

  “I’m deaf now,” Gretchen said.

  “I’m alarmed now,” Theo said. “You can smell that?”

  “Yes, and I can’t help it, so don’t be a dick about it. You’re newly-mated, it’s not like I didn’t already know you were getting laid all the time anyway. Kudos to you and Jillian. But this is about Martin. Who had a nooner.”

  “I can fire you,” Martin said, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the mere thought of being with Tiffani in that hotel room.

  Or the thought of the way she had securely tucked his telephone number in her purse.

  “I need to know everything about this,” Theo said.

  You wouldn’t have pegged someone so old-school courteous for being so curious until you remembered that Theo had grown up in the kind of one-stoplight dragon village that meant everyone had known everyone else’s business all the time. Not knowing everyone’s personal lives was the one thing that seemed to make him feel homesick.

  This marked the first tim
e in years that Martin was happy to talk. Theo wanted to know everything? Martin wanted to tell everything.

  Well, he thought, considering the feeling of Tiffani’s legs wrapped around his waist, the thrill of holding her up, almost everything, anyway.

  Some things were still his. Some things were still theirs.

  But this—this he wanted to share.

  “I met my mate.”

  Gretchen actually clapped her hands together, bouncing up onto the balls of her feet. “No kidding?”

  “Congratulations,” Colby said, though he looked a little like someone had sucker-punched him. Just surprised?

  Theo bowed slightly and said something in Old Draconic and then translated it as, “We are honored to share in your happiness.”

  “Who is it, though?” Gretchen said.

  It was the first time he would say her name to anyone else since he had met her, kissed her, made love to her. He already savored the taste of it on his tongue.

  “Tiffani Marcus.”

  Commotion ensued. Theo, in a very undignified, undragonlike move, sprung forward to shake Martin’s hand so enthusiastically Martin thought it might come off. Gretchen hugged him while Colby went for a high five. They were all talking at once.

  Had he told her he was a shifter? Had he told her about mates? How did he feel? How did she feel?

  Theo landed immediately on the fact that Tiffani now possibly knew that he was a shifter, and at once began planning some kind of “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a dragon” gift that, knowing him, would be staggeringly thoughtful and gain Tiffani’s forgiveness immediately. Gretchen, who had befriended Tiffani back when they’d first met, threatened to meet up with her and gossip about Martin for an hour. Colby just kept saying over and over again that Martin was lucky. Really lucky.

  Martin finally held up his hands to try to quiet them down.

  “No, I didn’t tell her I was a shifter. There wasn’t that much time.”

  “Yeah, we all know where your priorities were, boss.”

  He glared at Colby. “And I didn’t tell her we were... meant to be together.”

  “Yeah, guys, humans don’t always get what ‘mate’ means,” Gretchen said. “You have to contextualize.”

  “But once you contextualize, they understand,” Theo said reassuringly. “Jillian understood.”

  “Tiffani will understand,” Martin said. “She seems just as ready to plunge into the deep end as I am.”

  If, that was, he ignored the tiny frown that she’d had when he had mentioned that they might see each other again as soon as this afternoon. And he was ignoring that. He hadn’t even been sure he’d seen it—it was there for less than a second.

  Gretchen said, “She’s had a bad time, you know. Her ex was bad news in a lot of ways. You’re nothing like him in any way, shape, or form, and I’m sure she knows that, but I can see how she wouldn’t want to jump into something right away. We don’t all get a buzzer in our heads saying we have the green light for years and years of happiness, you know, we have to take your word for it.”

  “Sometimes I forget you’re human,” Colby said to her, almost as an aside.

  “Thanks,” Gretchen said with surprising bitterness. “That’s really helpful. I’m just saying don’t be surprised if she can’t move forward quite as quickly as you can.”

  “I know she needs time. I can give that to her. We’ll go slow.”

  “That’s a little bit at odds with the afternoon delight, isn’t it?” Colby said.

  “That’s not proper,” Theo said, glaring at him. “Martin is our leader and Tiffani is our friend, and—”

  “Oh, calm down, Prince Theo, I’m just saying. And you were all over Martin’s love life before you found out your soon-to-be mother-in-law was in it.”

  Martin remembered what Tiffani had said about him having three kids. At the moment, as Theo and Colby began to bicker over etiquette vs. honesty and Gretchen clearly tried to tune them both out, he felt the truth of that more than ever. And another truth, too.

  He hadn’t needed to be lonely. He’d had family right here if he had just opened his eyes to see them.

  “We’ll take things slowly emotionally,” he said, to put an end to the arguing.

  “I think it’s great that the two of you dove right into something, at least,” Gretchen said. “You both deserve a good time after everything you’ve been through.”

  “Seconded,” Theo said.

  Gretchen cleared her throat. “Now, does anyone remember the part of today where we got a bomb threat? And the part of our jobs where we’re supposed to make sure that doesn’t lead to an actual bomb?”

  “Thank you,” Martin said. “For the sentiment and for getting us back to work. Like I told Colby, I’m going to stand guard in the courtroom myself. That means I’m on crime prevention and you’re on crime solving.”

  Colby nodded, his mouth wrinkling back in a uniquely wolfish snarl. “This is our territory. The courthouse people are our people—and now that includes our alpha’s mate. We get this wrapped up and we do it as quickly as possible.”

  “Amen to that,” Gretchen said. “Chief, permission to start allocating manpower?”

  “She means us,” Colby said to Theo.

  “We’re powerful men,” Theo agreed.

  “Permission granted. I trust all of you to get this right.”

  Gretchen assigned Theo to talk to the notoriously prickly bomb squad—he looked a little glum about this and started polishing his cufflinks and then all the spare change he was carrying around, a reflexive dragon instinct to tidy his hoard to soothe himself—and Colby to talk to the prosecution and defense teams. She was going to handle the judge. She said it with a kind of lip-smacking delight that made Martin think she knew exactly how irritating Judge McMillan could be and was already planning on taking him down a peg or two.

  “And you, Chief...” Gretchen smiled. “If I know anything about shifters, it’s that you’re only good for one thing right now.”

  Colby snorted.

  “Once again,” Martin said, “I can still fire you.”

  “When we’re already under-staffed? Please, I have complete free rein right now and you know it, boss.”

  “Anyway,” Gretchen said, glaring at Colby, “I meant that your mind is going to be on Tiffani, so go be with Tiffani. You’ve carried all of us at one time or another. Let us pick up the slack for you right now.”

  Maybe Martin should have been embarrassed by this, but he wasn’t. He left the office with a little bit of a spring in his step.

  The spring died out once he heard that Tiffani was going to be stuck in Judge McMillan’s chambers for the rest of the day. He didn’t have the right to barge in no matter how much he wanted to. The best he could do was hope that Gretchen would lure McMillan out soon, breaking up whatever meeting was going on in there.

  He helped himself to a waxed paper cone of stale-tasting water from the cooler in the hallway and then walked the length of the hall several times. It wasn’t a long hall and pacing it made him feel a little ridiculous, like he was trapped in a shoebox.

  Was this ridiculous? All he wanted to do was to spend time with her. He was sure she wanted to spend time with him too. He was her perfect mate as much as she was his, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  Then again, any woman as smart and lively as Tiffani would get bored eventually if her mate did nothing but pine away for her. He might not be good for much right now, as Gretchen had so elegantly put it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least try to look less like a puppy waiting forlornly for his owner to come back. He scrounged up a discarded newspaper. Local papers bred in every public area of the courthouse, usually stripped of their comics, sports, and arts sections.

  Martin sat down on one of the rigid, uncomfortable benches and tried to talk himself into caring about a factory that made recycled crayons to donate to local children.

  He might have succeeded in looking like an ordinary, we
ll-informed man of the world and not a head-over-heels-in-love shifter longing to be reunited with his mate, but the second Tiffani stepped back out into the hall, he knew that no number of newspapers could have made a difference in how he felt. Even if they’d had their sports sections.

  Right now, he only had eyes for her.

  Martin hadn’t come from a full-blooded shifter family. Ancient Greece had made a sport out of hunting pegasi for their feathers, which were supposed to possess the magic of flight, and their numbers had thinned so much that there were hardly any pegasi left. Martin was one of only a handful in North America. He was thankful that his clan hadn’t isolated itself to preserve some illusory purity of bloodline—he hadn’t had Theo’s experience of growing up surrounded by people who congratulated themselves on all being alike. He had a human uncle, a stag shifter aunt, and a lion shifter cousin in addition to his little pegasus colt of a niece. And aside from a few frayed tempers at crowded Thanksgiving dinners, they all mostly got along.

  So Martin had been raised with some shifter relatives who had found their mates and believed fervently that that was the one right way to live—they used words like “transcendent” and phrases like “once in a lifetime”—but he had also been raised with some human relatives. They had taught him that there were lots of different ways to be happy, not just ones that involved falling in love at first sight. When he had turned forty, he had reluctantly decided that his prime years for finding his mate had passed, and he had been able—without too much trouble—to turn to the solutions of his human cousins. Get to know someone. Get to like her. Get to love her.

  He had married Lisa. Sweet and shy, she had been easy to love. And as a deer shifter, she understood the situation they were in as well as he did. They weren’t meant to be with each other, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be happy with each other.

  And they had been. He had made her laugh and she had been a calm oasis for him in the middle of even the hardest and most wearying days. Even now, he couldn’t forgive the illness that had taken her from him so suddenly and with so little warning.

  And he had been so sure that all the romance in his life had died with her. He had accepted that without any hesitation, especially at first. He’d been so stricken with grief that he had barely been able to remember how to microwave the casseroles friends had stacked in endless piles in his fridge. Back then, he hardly wanted another romance and wouldn’t have known what to do with one if he’d gotten it.