Laila sighed. “Men are idiots sometimes. You deserve better.”
Blinking furiously, I stretched my smile even wider
Laila probably thought I didn’t see it, but she clearly shot Parker a pointed look as their eyes met in the large wall mirror at Laila’s station.
Parker, who was bouncing Stella on her knee, sent an emphatic stare back. Those two were exchanging an entire non-verbal convo while I was falling apart.
Finally Parker turned to me. “Elin, I’ll talk to Dylan, make him explain. He should really apologize for being so rude to you.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t you dare.” As though I wasn’t embarrassed and humiliated enough.
October walked into the salon to hear the tail end of that. “Dylan? Are y’all talking about Dylan King of the jungle? That man is a sexy beast! Rawwwr!” She clawed the air with her spiky, black-lacquered fingernails and motioned Parker out of her chair.
I let out a huge groan and flopped my head down on the desk with a thunk. “He’s my mate, I know it! I mean, I’m his mate, whatever.”
Apparently my moping finally got to Parker. She shot up to announce her news to the whole salon. “You know what? I’ve made up my mind. Elin will be the first nonshifter to have a profile on Cybermates. Congratulations, Elin. I’m going to find the perfect match for you!”
I deflated even more. “No thanks.”
Everyone froze. The entire room—silent. They were staring at me like I was Medusa and had just turned them all to stone. Jaws hung open, eyes bugged out.
“What? I told you guys—”
Parker looked at me pityingly. “I know, I know. You want a shifter and you think Dylan is your mate, but you need to stay away from lions. They’re a different breed.”
So Dylan was a lion shifter. Wow. But what the hell did she mean, they’re a different breed? I ground my teeth and stared up at the ceiling. Spotting a cob web, I grabbed my broom and lifted it to try to brush it away.
Parker moved with Stella over to Margie’s vacant chair. “You know I’ve already made four successful matches, right? Just let me work my magic. Promise you’ll forget all about Dylan King.”
Parker thought that if she set me up on a date, I’d find someone else and forget all about my mate who didn’t want anything to do with me? Not likely. As of last night, I’d sworn off all men. Indefinitely.
The thought hurt my heart, but not nearly as much as Dylan’s rejection had. When I realized that Parker wasn’t going to stop until I agreed, I did. I had no intention of actually dating, I just wanted to shut her up.
“Fine. Whatever. Do your thing. But no lions. I absolutely draw the line at lions.”
She swiped the air with her free hand, motioning the thought away. “Oh you don’t need to worry about that. Lion shifters don’t mate outside their species.”
“What?” My stomach sank to my toes.
“Er…I mean, well…oh, hell, it’s true. Lion shifters stick to their own kind. And they’re polygamous.”
“Polygamous?!”
“That means th—”
“I know what it means!” It had to be a mistake, though.
Ugh. I was definitely swearing off men.
From this moment forward, I would never go near a man again—and I wouldn’t even look at shifter.
I closed my eyes as silent tears streamed down my cheeks.
Elin
2 months, one week, three days and six hours later…
Blinding sunshine, blistering heat, and sweltering humidity all topped off with a generous portion of lizards, mosquitoes, sand fleas and fire ants. Late July in the Florida Keys was like taking an immersion tour through the bowels of hell—with palm trees and Mai Tais.
Seriously, the swelter was no joke.
“Mariah said the lock sometimes sticks.” Arden jiggled the house key as she tried to blow a wayward strand of hair out of her face. The hair, already plastered to her forehead with sweat, didn’t move.
I fanned my face with my hand. “Maybe there’s some WD40 in the shed. I’m about to pass out in this heat.”
“Got it.” When the stubborn tumblers finally gave way, and we stumbled into the house I’d just rented, sight unseen from Mariah Starr, I almost wished the lock had remained stuck.
We stood immobile on the threshold and stared, utterly and completely flabbergasted. Eventually one of us gasped—not sure which one of us.
Every visible surface was littered with trash. Empty beer cans, old pizza boxes, takeout containers, magazines, clothing, junk mail, and a myriad of other items of completely useless junk. There was a near life sized poster of Pamela Anderson circa her Baywatch days on the far wall. A seven year old Buxom Babes calendar hung from a kitchen cupboard door, and something was draped over the lampshade. Was that a—yep, it was a jock strap.
“What is this place?”
Arden cleared her throat. “It was Patton’s old bachelor pad.” She strolled around the room while my feet remained rooted to the sticky, god-only-knew-what-that-orange-stain-was carpet. “Mariah did say the guys used to use it as a party house, but holy cow. This place looks like a frat house during pledge week.”
I nodded in agreement. “Wonder how many beer kegs ended their lives here.”
Arden swiped her finger along the fireplace mantle, then tried to shake off the thick thimble of dust. Eventually she ended up just wiping it off on the back of the couch. “From what Mariah told me, it’s been vacant for quite some time, so I guess we should have expected… Are you sure you don’t want to stay with Flynn and me? I know our place is small, but at least it’s not a giant petri dish culturing the newest strains of bacteria.”
I laughed, or tried to. My attempt at a lighthearted laugh sounded more like a howler monkey and a bullfrog had a baby—a howl-croak.
“I’m sure.” I’d stayed with her and Flynn for the previous two nights and hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Even noise cancelling headphones and relaxing
