Page 10 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

The bakery halts, falling silent.

Junie’s face falls.

Scarlet’s hurt is visible for only a moment before she locks it down, but her scent does not hide the pain as quickly. The blonde beside her reaches for Scarlet’s wrist and squeezes. Scarlet’s breathing deepens and her shoulders lower. Then the hand leaves, and the small physical easing disappears with it.

My alpha pushes forward hard enough to make me shift my weight. Everything inside me needs to settle her, to give her the pack frequency and touch she craves.

Roman expression says what he doesn’t need to.

“I’m not the town oracle,” Scarlet says.

“No one said you were.”

“People say it all the time, just not when strangers are around.” Her voice comes out sharper than before.

The reports come back to me. People think she predicts bond collapses.

“Then don’t be an oracle. Be a historian,” Roman says.

Scarlet studies him for a long moment. “You’re the dangerous one.”

My brow lifts. “Him?”

“He asks better questions.”

Roman grins. “I’ve been telling him that for years.”

“And yet I’m usually the one who gets answers.”

“Do you? Or do people confess to end the conversation?”

The blonde beside Scarlet makes a delighted sound.

Roman laughs.

I almost hold out. Almost.

Scarlet’s eyes widen slightly when I smile. The corner of her mouth moves in answer. Interesting.

“Depends on the conversation,” I say.

She picks up her drink. “Wanna guess how this one is going?”

Roman watches the exchange with entirely too much satisfaction.

I return to the reason we’re here.

“Was there something unusual at the fountain?”

Scarlet’s humor fades. For a second I think she’ll refuse again. Then she looks through the windows. “There were swamp lilies mixed into the offerings.”

Roman lowers his coffee. “And that’s unusual?”

“Very.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because they don’t belong there.”