Page 9 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

Roman’s smile returns, small and appreciative. “It’s contributing.”

That startles a laugh out of her.

I wasn’t prepared for the sound. Her whole face changes when she laughs, the sharpness easing for just long enough to reveal something soft underneath. It does something funny to my chest.

Roman glances at me, his interest in her widening in the bond.

I ignore him.

“We need someone who understands the town’s history and the land around the swamp,” I say.

Scarlet folds her arms. “That’s what we’re calling folklore when investigators need a favor?”

“I’m calling it potential evidence, if it helps explain why people are getting hurt.”

Scarlets mouth closes.

Roman shifts his coffee cup between both hands. “We’re asking you to help us understand how the town overlaps with the swamp.”

The bakery listens around us. Scarlet glances toward the front windows. I follow her gaze. The town fountain sits across the square under an unreasonable amount of flowers.

Scarlet’s gaze is haunted, and my gut tells me to press. “What happened at the fountain?” I ask.

Her eyes snap back to mine.

“I saw tourists spending twenty-eight dollars on a charm bracelet that probably cost three dollars to make.”

Junie sighs. The blonde beside Scarlet gives her a look.

Roman studies Scarlet over the rim of his coffee. “That does sound criminal.”

“Exactly.” A smile nearly surfaces before Scarlet swallows it.

I don’t take the bait. “What else?”

“I don’t work with law enforcement.”

“That’s unfortunate, because I’m here asking.”

“That sounded ominous again.”

Roman’s lips curve. “He hears that often.”

“I don’t.”

“Your ability to ignore criticism has reached professional levels.” Roman touches my wrist as he says it.

I turn my hand to catch his fingers and hold them for a moment before letting go.

Scarlet watches. Her scent softens around the edges, and the depleted note beneath it becomes more noticeable as she relaxes.

It makes my instincts restless, my alpha demanding I take her in my arms and scent mark her until those depleted notes ease.

Junie clears her throat. “Scarlet knows the old flood paths better than anyone. She knows the older sweetheart traditions too, from before the town turned half of them into festival attractions. If there’s a connection to the swamp, she’ll know where to look.”

Scarlet gives her a betrayed look. “I came here for cake.”

“You came here because you didn’t want to go home alone.”