I suspected he was a huge cat even before my grandfather called him out. It’s interesting that Grandpa seems to be so good at identifying different kinds of shifters. He has no problem telling a swan from a deer, which has always been interesting to me. Maybe it’s because Grandpa is kind of a small shifter. He’s always had to know who the potential predators are.

  I hear a soft meow and I turn to see my grandfather in his cat form. He hops up onto the table lightly and pads over to the food. Then he sits down and looks at me expectantly. He doesn’t shift back, doesn’t say anything to me. Not that he can speak in his shifter form. None of us can do that. It would probably be a lot more convenient, honestly, but I have a sneaking suspicion that if shifters could speak in their animal forms, no one would ever bother pretending to be human.

  “Hungry?” I nudge one of the tacos in his direction.

  He sniffs it carefully, suspiciously, as though it’s something besides tacos. Even in his cat form, Grandpa is dramatic. I roll my eyes and wait patiently as he finally decides to taste the taco. His eyes widen at the taste and he devours it quickly before silently purring and asking for another.

  I push another one over.

  “By all means,” I murmur, handing it to him. Grandpa hanging out in his cat form isn’t strange or unusual. In fact, as he’s gotten older, he’s become more and more comfortable as a cat and less and less comfortable as a man. I think this has something to do with the aging process, but I can’t really be sure. It’s just that he seems wildly uncomfortable in his human form and when he’s a cat, well, he’s a cat.

  He’s just him.

  For a long time, it was just the three of us: Grandma, Grandpa, and me. When I moved back after I graduated from boarding school, I decided to live with the two of them. The decision was partially financial and partially social. I didn’t have a dime to my name and my grandparents are totally friendly and wonderful. My parents had a messy divorce and I didn’t want to be around them, but my grandparents were totally welcoming and understanding. They always seemed so happy to have me around and they made me feel like I truly belonged. For the first time in my life, I had a place where I belonged.

  Grams passed away a few years ago. Now it’s just me and Grandpa. The house feels emptier, but there’s no less love here. It sounds totally cliché and maybe a little creepy, but I can still sense my grandmother here. Even though she’s gone, she’s never far from my heart. I know Grandpa feels the same way.

  “There, there,” I pat his kitty-cat head as he eats, and I think about how my night went. I’m obsessing, but it’s how I process things, so I’ll try to cut myself some slack instead of focusing on the fact that I’m a little weird and strange and awkward.

  Honestly, I don’t know if tonight could have been any stranger. Sometimes talking to Grandpa helps, though, even if he doesn’t always talk back. He’s always been good at helping me sort out my feelings and figure out what really matters.

  I look down at him and smile.

  “You had some great years with Grandma, huh?” I pet him. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to find that, Gramps.”

  It sounds so lame to say this out loud.

  Weak.

  Pathetic.

  It’s the truth, though.

  “I need a date,” I tell him. “Alastair is getting married.”

  Grandpa purrs. Alastair is my cousin on my mom’s side of the family. Grandpa is my dad’s dad, so he probably won’t go to the wedding. He’s never liked Uncle Jacob much, although he and Aunt Jean seem to get along really well. Anytime they see each other, which honestly isn’t often, they always goof around and tell funny jokes to one another. Grandpa has always said that Jean reminds him of a less-mean version of my mom, so she’s got that going for her.

  “I really don’t want to go to this wedding alone,” I tell Grandpa. I don’t add in the not-so-veiled threat that I’ll be paired up with Lester if I don’t bring my own partner. “I went to a mixer so I could meet people. The first two guys I met were just awful. Terrible, really. You would hate them, Gramps. I didn’t plan on meeting Matthew, but...”

  I shake my head because what I actually want to say sounds totally crazy.

  What I want to say is that I felt a tug toward him.

  A pull.

  Something magical.

  And when I think about it, maybe it’s really not so crazy at all. Maybe this is what I’m supposed to be feeling. Maybe, after all of this time, I’ve finally found someone I can connect with in a way that I’m supposed to be connecting with someone.

  Maybe I’ve finally found someone who is perfectly content to spend an evening hanging out, eating tacos, and talking about nothing at all.

  The words come pouring out, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

  “Grandpa, I think he’s my mate.”

  Despite the embarrassment, despite the way things ended, despite everything going horribly and awkwardly wrong, what else could explain the way I feel around him? I look down at Grandpa and if cats could smile, he’d be smiling. Grandpa-the-cat nods, then, and I know that it’s his own way of gently encouraging me.

  So, Grandpa thinks Matthew could be my mate, too.

  Now what the fuck do I do?

  Chapter 6

  Matthew

  “Tell me something good,” Alastair says when I walk into his office.

  “Hello, old friend,” I say, standing in the center of the room. I take a look around. It’s beautifully-furnished. It’s lovely, really. It’s the type of place that a person could get comfortable. With beautiful views from his third-floor office space, it’s the best building in town for seeing what the world has to offer.

  And it’s all Alastair’s.

  He looks me up-and-down with a bit of a scowl. Then he looks back at his desk, as though he can’t be bothered to talk to me. I’m not surprised. Alastair is nothing if not predictable and I definitely predicted that he wasn’t quite over the 10th grade dance.

  “It was a long time ago,” I tell him.

  “You can say that,” he looks up. “But what you did was mean.”

  “It was a dick move,” I agree. “I was young, and I was stupid.”

  “You knew I wanted to ask Lindsay Dallas to the dance,” he hisses, looking around like we might be overheard. It’s impossible. We’re in his private office and something tells me that none of his staff members would dare to bother him in the middle of a private meeting. Not if they know what’s good for them, anyway, and with Alastair, everyone always knows what’s good for them. How my cousin chose to marry him, I’m not entirely sure, but that’s Melanie, for you. She’s unpredictable and a little bit wild, but I haven’t forgotten that both her and Alastair have tender sides.

  “You’re absolutely right,” I say. I move over toward his desk. He’s standing with his palms pressed straight down. It’s a power move if I’ve ever seen one, but I didn’t come here to fight. I’m more than happy to apologize if it gets me an in with Alastair’s company.

  Not that I think a merger, or any sort of agreement, is going to be able to take place tonight. He’s much too set in his ways for any nonsense like that. Alastair is old school through-and-through. He believes in traditional values and traditional experiences and traditional lifestyles.

  Letting a world of shifters roam right into his town isn’t exactly high on his developmental list of projects.

  It doesn’t mean I can’t try.

  “Look,” I hold my hands up, showing him that I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m not aggressive. I’m no threat to him or his livelihood. “I just came to talk, but if we need to hash this out first, then that’s fine.”

  Alastair growls and I realize that I need to hurry up before the cat comes out to play. My old friend might be a tiger shifter who runs one of the biggest real estate companies I’ve ever known to exist, but he’s also a man. He’s a person with very real feelings and sometimes those feelings are big and huge and hard to deal with.

  Betrayal will always sting no matter how long it’s been since the incident occurred.

  “I was wrong,” I tell him.

  He scoffs and rolls his eyes. I try not to react, but the reality is that being around Alastair is hard for me, too. Being around him brings up a lot of old feelings I thought had disappeared. I’m not exactly a golden boy, but I also try to let sleeping dogs lie.

  “I shouldn’t have asked her out.”

  “You think?”

  “I was 15, man,” I say. “I was an idiot, and I wasn’t really thinking about you, and I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

  “Alastair, you’re getting married to the most sought-after real estate agent in the county. Are you really still upset about something that happened years ago? Melanie is absolutely perfect, my friend. She’s beautiful and she’s kind. She’s passionate.” My cousin is nothing if not fiery and determined. She’s got a temper like Alastair does, but she generally uses it for good. Honestly, they’ll probably be completely perfect together.

  That comment makes him pause for a moment, and he smiles at a picture on his desk. I can’t see it, but I’m guessing it’s a picture of Melanie. She’s always been very sweet and very lovely. Her deep, dark skin is a stark contrast with his pale complexion. In some circles, their relationship would be cause for discussion, but around here, nobody cares. Shifters are good like that. No matter what color you are, no matter what you look like, you can be accepted for who you are. You can date who you like and marry who you want.

  Unless, apparently, you’re not a tiger.

  Then all bets are off.

  “You might be right,” he finally says. “But I still don’t know that I’m okay with what you’re trying to do.”

  “Okay, what part are you not okay with?”

  “All of it.”

  “Which part specifically?” He’s going to have to be a little blunt and straightforward if he actually wants me to know what he’s talking about, which I don’t. My company’s goal is to create spaces where shifters can live comfortably and safely. I have no idea why Alastair would object to that. He’s a shifter, after all, and he manages and owns properties that shifters live in, rent, and use. Wouldn’t my company’s goals help his own?

  He sighs and shakes his head, unable to put his feelings into words. It’s only then that I realize something. I should have seen it before because it’s entirely obvious. Alastair might have a reputation for being short-tempered, but there’s someone else in his life who is a million times worse: someone who might still have a bit of a hold on my old friend.

  “Your dad said something to you, didn’t he?”

  “What? No.” Alastair looks away, though.

  “He did,” I say, trying to figure out what it could have been. Alastair and I were close once upon a time, but after I snaked his date away all those years ago, we stopped talking. Still, I never stopped caring about him as a friend, and the reality is that he’s about to be married to my cousin. Despite my shitty behavior, I’ve always liked Alastair. I was just a petty and childish teenager. I hope he can find a way to forgive me, especially moving forward. I want to be able to be part of his life, and I really only wish him happiness and good things.

  Alastair is a good man, deep down, but sometimes he forgets this.

  His father, on the other hand, has always been an asshole in every sense of the word.

  What could his dad have said that would have caused Alastair to pull away, though?

  What could have made him not want to collaborate?

  Alastair might not like me, but I don’t think he’d resist participating in something like this just because of our past. He’s not that cruel. He can be narrow-minded and frustrating and difficult to deal with, but he also wants what’s best for Tigress and Lyon County as a whole. That’s why he’s in real estate, after all. Alastair likes being able to help craft the world into a better and more wonderful place.

  So, what’s the deal?

  Then it hits me, and I feel like a complete idiot for not realizing it sooner.

  “He’s going to cut you out of the will,” I say. His father owns almost everything in Lyon County. Jacob Cambridge is more than just Alastair’s dad: he’s the mayor. He’s a rich mayor, too. He made his money long ago from clever investing and ruthless governing. He’s not going to go quietly into the grave when it’s time for him to leave this world. He’s certainly not going to be free with how his money is distributed. Leave it to the old man to try to hold this over his son’s head.

  “I haven’t told Melanie,” Alastair says. He looks up at me finally. He’s devastated. He’s torn apart. “You can’t tell anyone, Matthew, and you have to understand.”

  “Understand what, exactly? You don’t want to expand to have more versatile offerings for different kinds of shifters? You’re going to fight to keep this city as tiger-exclusive as possible? And why? Because some old asshole who doesn’t even like you is holding money over your head?”

  I’m totally disgusted with the situation. Alastair needs to man up and tell his dad to fucking shove it. Right? That’s what he needs to do. That’s what I would do. Who cares if his dad doesn’t want to leave him anything? What does it matter?

  Then again, my dad left a long time ago.

  Maybe I’ve never really gotten over it.

  I don’t want to fall into the trap of projecting my own problems onto Alastair. This isn’t really about me or my own failed relationships. I do think, though, that he needs to seriously consider what he’s saying. If he doesn’t help the shifters of Lyon County and he doesn’t stand up to his dad, something tells me that Alastair is going to regret it. He’s going to have a hard time learning to deal with the trouble that comes after such a decision.

  “You don’t understand,” Alastair says. He swallows hard. For such a powerful man, he looks weak.

  Scared.

  “Then make me,” I say simply. “Because from where I’m sitting, it kind of sounds like you only care about tigers. What about everyone else?” I say quietly. “This entire town has grown and flourished because it’s a haven for shifters, but there are more people in the world than tigers. There are owls who need places they can fly freely at night and hunt and be away from civilization. There are cats who need corners they can slink around and spaces where they aren’t going to be hauled off to animal control before they can shift back. There are puppies and snakes and fucking alligators who all need homes. We can provide that.”

  Alastair looks up at me and for just a second, I think he’s going to listen to reason. I think he’s going to tell me that it’s going to be okay, but then he drops his head, shaking it.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Then I guess I’ve wasted my time,” I say. I stand up, and I leave the office. I close the door behind myself, but I’m careful not to slam it. I’m beyond pissed right now, but I’m not going to lose control. Not at a time like this. I want Alastair on my side, but I’m not going to fight him for it. If he doesn’t really believe that all shifters deserve access to the same things, then that’s his problem. It’s not mine. I can’t force someone to believe what’s right. I can’t force him to be a good person, but damn. I can’t believe he’s actually giving in to his dad.

  Angrily, I start to storm out of the real estate building. I can’t fucking believe this. I’m not asking for much. Hell, I didn’t even ask for a full merger. I just asked that we get together and discuss some options for meeting the needs of our town’s citizens. The mayor is going to be up for re-election soon and something tells me that shifter housing is going to be high on the priority list this year. The people of Tigress want change. They’re interested in change. They want new things and new people and new growth.

  People are going to want to know that they’ll have a place to live.

  They’re going to want to know that they’ll have a place in Tigress.

  They’ll want to know they’re going to be understood and cared for and that the community is going to accept them for who they are. That’s only the current citizens. What about the college students who rent in this town? What about all of the people who need places to live? What about the shifters who are looking for a place they can belong?

  What about them?

  If we don’t make changes to Lyon County now, then it’s going to be too late.

  We have to grow.

  We have to change.

  We have to adapt.

  It’s the shifter way, so what can I possibly do to convince Alastair?

  Chapter 7

  Cassidy

  “Stop staring at the phone,” Danielle says.

  “I’m not staring at the phone.”

  “You’ve been staring at it for an hour,” she points out, and I roll my eyes. Disrespectful? Yeah, absolutely, but I’m going a little crazy. It’s been over a week since my not-actually-a-date date with Matthew. It wasn’t a date, but it totally felt like one, and I’ve been daydreaming about him ever since.

  The problem is that I have no idea what his last name is, what he does for a living, where he’s from, or if he’s even available. I don’t know if he liked seeing me. I don’t know anything. All I know is that we had a great time together and then it ended. That was on me, I suppose. I probably should have tried harder to get him interested in me.

  Maybe I should have worked harder at making him feel interested in me.

  But it doesn’t make any sense.

  Didn’t he feel that spark?

  That zing?

  That zap?

  Didn’t he feel anything when we touched?

  Didn’t he feel anything when he looked at me?

  For years I pushed down my desire to find a mate. I convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone except for myself and that the idea of falling for a guy – any guy – was dumb. Silly. Useless. Only now, I’ve met someone who is none of those things, and I don’t know how to find him, or if I’m even supposed to. If we’re true mates, will we naturally run into each other? Will we be drawn to one another? Will we have some sort of strange, chance meeting?