He leaned against the truck. What would Annabelle tell him to do? She had always given him the best advice.
She would tell him to be kind.
Yeah, well, kindness had gotten him—and Dew—into this mess. Months ago, Dew had found a poem of his tucked into a library book that he had returned. Apparently the poem had made an impression, so she had sent the poem back to him when he next requested a library book, and tucked into the new book, she had added a note along with one of her favorite poems. He had thought it kind. He’d thought it would be harmless to write back.
And now she was stuck in the Junkyard. Fuck.
The others were having one of their group meals. He could smell the grilling meat. He’d find some leftovers later, when everyone was done eating, or maybe he’d catch a fish or two. He wasn’t all that hungry, anyway, and definitely not hungry enough to brave a group meal, where Dew would be surrounded by a bunch of horny shifters.
Stripping out of his clothes, Stetson tried to put Dew out of his mind. He called forth his jaguar, grateful for the change in form, the new distractions of the forest, its scents and sounds. In his cat form, Stetson enjoyed even more heightened senses.
He would go for a run. Racing between trees and along the boundary of the territory would make it difficult to brood too heavily. He had to get out of his own head. Otherwise, he just might lose his resolve, find Dew, and kiss her senseless.
Bunching up the muscles in his rear legs, he poised to spring.
“Hold that thought, Stetson,” a voice said from behind him.
He spun around, irritated with himself. He’d been concentrating so hard on not thinking about Dew that he’d ignored his surroundings.
Enforcers didn’t ignore their surroundings. Enforcers were always on the alert.
Or Enforcers died.
Damien Buenevista stood a few feet away. The wolf shifter had a big beard that matched his sandy brown hair. He’d been in here nearly as long as Jase—five years. Stetson didn’t know what Damien had been thrown in for, but he’d always thought he was a bit of an asshole, so he never tried to get to know him.
“Jase sent me to get you,” Damien said, blue eyes alight with some kind of strange excitement. He picked up Stetson’s jeans and tossed them to land at Stetson’s paws.
Stetson growled in annoyance, but pushed his jaguar back down and embraced his human form. He tugged on his pants and said to Damien, “What’s happening?”
“Some kind of meeting Jase said you’d want to be at.”
Giving Damien a careful look, Stetson said, “You know more than that.”
“Maybe.” Damien grinned. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise, though.”
Stetson clenched his fist, tempted to punch that smug smile off the asshole’s face. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Jase wants us all there so the new girl can pick who she wants to mate.”
Stetson went completely still as anger froze his limbs. A cold fury filled his chest and stopped his heart. “What?”
“Yeah. She needs to get out of here, right?” Damien said. “And the witches aren’t talking to us. So we know the whole find-a-mate, get-out-of-the-Junkyard thing works. I mean, it’s worked with…four couples so far. Why should it be different for this new woman?”
Because she’s already mine, Stetson thought.
Damien shrugged. “I haven’t gotten to talk to her yet, but Markowicz says she’s hot. Maybe she’ll think I’m hot, too. And she’ll forgive me for grabbing her.”
“You grabbed her? Motherfucker.”
“No!” Damien held up his hands. “I was just trying to keep her from running into the wall.”
Stetson relaxed, but he didn’t like the thought of this wolf shifter’s paws anywhere near Dew.
“She’ll be checking out the rest of us in a couple minutes. Jase said you should come.”
No, Stetson thought. Just, no. This shouldn’t happen.
“Anyway, stay here if you want,” Damien said, talking over his shoulder as he headed back toward the dump, “but I’m going to go submit myself for the hottie’s perusal.”
Stetson couldn’t put on his shirt fast enough. He knew he shouldn’t go. He should stay as far away from Dew as possible. But he also couldn’t stand by and wait for whatever shit show this was going to turn into.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Damien asked from ahead of him on the trail.
“Nothing.” He had to talk to Jase, get him to stop this craziness.
He broke into a run, sprinting past Damien, who said, “Whoa, someone’s eager.”
Ignoring him, Stetson continued until he reached the bigger fighting ring in the dump. It was surrounded by old tires, just like the other ring. Off to the side was a fire pit, and the area where everyone gathered for group meals like the weekly dinners Blythe and Jase had organized.
The first person he saw in the crowd was Dew. She had on different clothes—a pair of jeans that hugged her curves, and a light gray sweater that brought out the beautiful sepia shade of her skin. Her eyes were sparkling in the flickering light of the fire.
Currently, Luca and Noah were vying for her attention. The three of them laughed at something Luca said. Stetson held in a growl and searched for Jase.
There. Jase and Blythe were standing together, chatting with Grant—what the hell was Grant doing in here again? Fred Barnum stood near them, too, listening to whatever Blythe was saying. Impressive how she had that guy eating out of the palm of her hand, when just a few months ago, he’d terrorized her. Stetson wasn’t sure he’d have been as forgiving as Blythe had been, but Blythe was special.
His gaze flicked back to Dew. He wanted to grab her and take her away from this place. First he needed to figure out what was really going on. Was this seriously some kind of matchmaking event?
“Jase,” Stetson said.
Jase looked up, gestured Stetson over. “What’s up?”
Stetson didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience, but looked like he didn’t have much choice. “Damien said you wanted me here.”
“Yeah.” Jase’s eyes brightened. “We’re going to figure out who should be Dew’s mate.”
Seemed like that should be up to Dew, so Stetson said so.
“That’s the beauty of it,” Jase said. “She’ll go by looks first, picking her top three choices. Then she’ll get to know each of them over the next couple of weeks. By the end of it, she’ll know which one is her mate, and she and the lucky guy can come and go as they please, just in time for Dew’s two-week vacation to end so she can get back to work.”
This was a shitty idea. Stetson shook his head. “The Junkyard isn’t the fuckin’ Bachelorette.”
“Oh!” Blythe said, laughing. “You just called me out on my inspiration.”
“This was your idea?” Stetson asked.
“Kind of.” Blythe’s eyes twinkled. “None of us have actually watched the TV show, but we know the general idea. There are roses involved in the TV version, which we don’t have. Although I could get some at the store, maybe. And apparently the show includes lots of booze, which we do have. But Dew doesn’t like to drink, and we figure alcohol maybe isn’t the best thing to have around when people are making life-changing choices. Anyway, how do you know the show?”