Her new friend looked up at the building, then back at her. “I really hate to be obvious, but that says Gina Rossellini, Chiropractor.”
Teri couldn’t help herself; she started to laugh. “I know. Sam had to expand about ten years back, and he bought the place from Gina, who was leaving town. He was too busy setting up the shop to change the sign at first, and then customers were showing up and he was too busy with business to change the sign, and after a while everyone was so used to it that he didn’t bother. Your coworker probably forgot it even said that when they gave you directions.”
He had a wrinkle in the exact center of his forehead as he considered that. It shouldn’t have made him even more attractive, but it did. “That is either one of the better small-town stories I’ve heard, or you’re a very smooth practical joker.”
“It’s the truth,” Teri said. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
It came out more emphatic, more sincere, than she’d meant it to. She found herself looking him right in the eyes, caught by the intensity there.
She felt like she needed him to understand. Believe me. I need someone who can hear that I’m telling the truth.
“I believe you,” he said softly.
Teri couldn’t understand the strange upswelling in her chest. She was just giving someone directions. Why did it feel so important?
“There you are.”
Teri spun around, tensing up. Lillian was hurrying along the sidewalk toward her, high heels thudding on the concrete.
“Please don’t wander off like that,” Lillian said severely. “I had no idea where you were, I was worried.”
Teri blushed so hard her face felt like it was bursting into flames. Here she was, talking to a nice, funny, incredibly attractive man—the first new person she’d met outside of a medical facility in months—and Lillian was acting like Teri was a toddler who had run off in the store.
“I was just giving someone directions,” she said. Time to smooth this over and get away before her sister made it worse. “We can go now.”
“Good.” Lillian gave the man a scathing look, as though she suspected him of wanting to kidnap Teri in broad daylight on a public street, and then actually jerked her head at Teri as she turned to leave.
Teri wanted nothing more, in her heart of hearts, than to tell her sister to get lost. That she was being rude and controlling and it needed to stop.
But that wouldn’t get her anything but an argument, out here on the street in front of the gorgeous man, and then a furious lecture on the ride home. And then another furious lecture from her mother after she got there.
She had no independence, and she couldn’t win.
So she followed Lillian. But she couldn’t help turning to give the man a little embarrassed wave as she went. He looked sympathetic rather than disgusted, at least, which was probably the best she could hope for after that.
When she caught up with Lillian—having to run a couple of steps to do so, and delighted to discover that she could—her sister grabbed her arm and leaned close. “That’s one of the Miller boys,” she said in a harsh whisper.
Teri frowned. “So?”
“Didn’t you hear? Oh, I guess you were still—anyway, they’re new in town. They moved here a couple months ago and took jobs at the Park. They’re,” Lillian lowered her voice even more, “shapeshifters.”
Teri blinked. “Oh.”
Everyone in town knew about shapeshifters. Up here in northern Montana, right up against Glacier National Park, there were a lot of them. They liked the wilderness, and they liked to congregate together, so they’d formed a community in the area.
They were supposed to be a secr
et, but in a small town like this, after generations, word got around. People knew which families had shifter blood.
Most people just shook their heads at the weird and amazing things the world had to offer, but Teri’s family had always avoided them. She hadn’t been allowed to play with any kids from shifter families in school, and her parents had always told her that shifters were dangerous—after all, they were wild animals in human form. Who knew what they might do? It wasn’t safe to be around them.
But Teri had always been fascinated by them. What animals could they turn into? What did they do when they were animals? How much time did they spend as people? Did they all live normal lives as people, sleep in beds and eat at the table, or did they ever sleep out in the wild and hunt for food as animals?
She’d seen one, once, years ago. She’d been hiking in the Park—something she’d absolutely loved to do, back before the accident—and she’d looked up and there had been a big grey cat frozen on the hillside. Not a mountain lion, she knew that instinctively. Not any kind of cat native to American mountains. A snow leopard.
They’d stared at each other for a long moment, and then the leopard had bounded away. The moment it had reached the rocks, instead of the bright green grassy patch she’d seen it on, it had completely vanished, invisible against the gray stone.
“Anyway,” Lillian continued, “I was worried sick when I looked up and you were gone! What if you fell? You still have a hard time walking.”