Cam's Chance (Arrowtown Series Book 5) Read online

  Peering through the gloom of the night, Fergus frowned as a tall figure loitered by his letterbox. “Can I help you?” He didn’t bother to raise his voice. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “I was actually wondering what you were doing out so late at night. Are you just getting home?”

  Fergus’s shoulders relaxed. “Officer Mortimer. I know you told me you were new in town, but surely our fine Sheriff’s department doesn’t have you out pounding the pavements after dark? Don’t you have a patrol car?”

  “I like to walk.” Mortimer got closer and the white of his teeth were lit up by the neighbor’s porch light. “You’ve put in a long day, though, haven’t you?” He pointed to the apron Fergus was still wearing. “I would have thought a young man like yourself would be living it up with friends at Cam’s bar or driving over to Jackson to sample the nightlife over there.”

  Fergus chuckled, even as he shook his head. “The one thing you learn as a baker, is that the only night life you have is watching the drunks stumble home when you arrive at work at four a.m. Believe me, after seeing them, the night life holds no appeal for me.”

  Mortimer laughed. “Fair comment. Well, I’ll let you get on with your evening, night, or whatever you want to call it. But hey, maybe you’d like to go out for a meal and a drink sometime? A quiet place, I promise and early to bed for you, you have my word.”

  Fergus felt his cheeks heating up. “It’s nice of you to offer, Officer Mortimer, thank you. It could be a while before our schedules allow it, seeing as you’ve got the night shift, and I start work not long before you get off, but call in and have a muffin some time when the shop is open and we can make plans then.”

  “I look forward to it.” Mortimer doffed his hat, and Fergus’s cheeks flamed. “You take care now,” he added as he walked back down the path and back into town.

  Waiting until he couldn’t see or hear Mortimer anymore, Fergus slapped his own hand, the one holding his keys. “Ouch, with sugar plums.” Fergus shook out his sore fingers but continued telling himself off. “You, Fabulous Fergus are going to dive straight into homelessness if you’re not careful. You know darn well from the gleam in his eyes that that officer wants more than a taste of your muffins, and there’s no way that man is your mate. You have a business to run and your momma didn’t raise you to be distracted by sexy buns in a uniform.”

  Fumbling his keys into the front door lock, Fergus then reached around and turned on the living room light. Stepping inside he turned to close the door when he heard it. A chesty growl coming from the huge hydrangea bush planted alongside his front path. Fergus sniffed, but he couldn’t scent anyone, although he knew someone was definitely out there. “Huh, I’m more tired than I thought. Hey, Mr. Stalker in my bushes, don’t go bothering me tonight, okay. My fabulous self won’t be revived until I’ve had at least eight hours sleep. Goodnight and stay safe.” He shut the door firmly, then turned the lock, because with someone outside, it was the sensible thing to do.

  “Goodness, maybe I should have invited my stalker in for a meal – or better yet, get them to cook it. It would be so lovely if someone would cook for me for a change,” he grumbled, reaching down to unlace his shoes. Slipping them off his swollen feet and removing his socks, Fergus padded bare foot into the kitchen. After a day around sweet things, what he craved was a bowl of delicious savory stew, and thanks to Deputy Joe’s recommendations, he’d ordered half a dozen frozen meals from Mrs. Hooper. Popping a covered bowl into the microwave, Fergus wandered back through into the living room, using the remote to prime Netflix before going upstairs. “A shower, food, and sleep. It’s all this Fergus needs to be Fabulous,” he sang as he started taking off his clothes.

  /~/~/~/~/

  Is this guy for real? Hunched in his animal form, a scent blocker preventing him from being sniffed out, Cam watched as lights went on through Fergus’s house. Living room, kitchen, stairwell and finally one upstairs indicating Fergus was probably in his bedroom getting ready for a shower – an idea Cam was not going to dwell on for too long. The thought of a naked Fergus was a lot more than Cam could handle on top of his most recent revelation.

  Fergus is my Fated mate. It didn’t matter how much Cam wished it wasn’t true, because it was, and he genuinely didn’t know what to do about it. Just a whiff of Fergus’s scent as he brushed past the bush Cam was hiding under was enough to make Cam want to howl – and his animal type didn’t howl.

  He scratched absently at the ground with his long claws and then scratched his nose. A shadow passed across the window upstairs, and Cam imagined Fergus getting ready for bed. That’s not helping, he reminded himself crossly. Think. Practical thoughts, damn it, not the other kind. Fergus was tall, but slender and Cam found that odd because any other bull-type shifter he’d met before had been stocky. Maybe a hybrid then? But it’s not as though Cam could tell what type just from scent and sight alone.

  The looks were fine. Okay, if Cam was strictly honest with himself, Fergus looked as though he’d stepped out of Cam’s dreams despite his lack of bulk. A hint of scruff around his jaw, dark eyes, and a mop of wavy black hair that framed narrow but well-defined facial features. Large rings, bangles and a black leather cuff graced his thin arms and long fingers. All fine. Cam could live with all of it. In fact, he found he quite liked the idea, but it was the man’s attitude Cam couldn’t understand.

  The bedroom light went out, but Cam’s keen ears picked up the tread of feet on stairs. Needing a closer look, he scented the air, making sure no one was near, and then padded his way to the edge of the porch, tilting his head as he did so. Fergus was singing something about waiting on a microwave. Then he heard a ding. The microwave. Cutlery drawer. More footsteps. Cam really wanted to look inside. Nosing his way around the porch, he carefully eased his bulk up the stairs, his ears tuned to the slightest creak.

  His kind weren’t known for their stealth. They were more of a lunge and eat it type of predator. But they were also incredibly smart, with long bodies and strong limbs. Cam used his body to slide up against the nearest window frame. Tilting his head around, he could see into the brightly lit living room. Fergus was sitting on a deep brown couch, eating what looked like stew from a bowl. All he had on was a pair of pink sleep pants.

  Cam squinted so he could see better through the lace curtains. Do those pants have rainbow-colored unicorns on them? Oh, my gods. They do. If he’d been in his human form, Cam would have slapped his head and groaned. Unicorns. On a grown man. And Fergus was definitely grown. I did not need to notice that.

  Easing his body away from the wall, Cam had enough presence of mind to use the pads of his feet as he tiptoed off the porch. Once on the grass, he scuttled around, keeping close to the base boards of the house. He needed a burrow, somewhere he could hide out until morning. He didn’t think Austin would go for the midnight raid approach, but Cam learned a long time ago to cover all his bases. He’d stay in animal form, keeping a watchful eye on the house. And when Fergus had had his eight hours sleep, he’d go home, get dressed and head back. He and Fergus were going to have a serious talk, whether the young bull wanted it or not.

  Chapter Five

  Fergus’s heart jolted when he opened his eyes and saw his room bathed in daylight. Then he remembered – Saturday. He was taking a day off. Stretching, he yawned and reached for his phone to check the time. It was just after eight. “Glorious.” His grin was wide. Throwing back the covers, Fergus went through to his bathroom, doing what he had to do. He was just on his way downstairs when his phone rang.

  “Momma,” Fergus laughed as he answered the phone. “I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”

  “Lay about,” his momma teased. “A man like you should be ready for lunch at this time of the day.”

  “The shop is stocked, and I had a huge order yesterday.” Making his way to the kitchen, Fergus headed for the pantry. “The Sensational Sarah is taking care of things for me there today. How are things with you?”

&
nbsp; Listening with half an ear, Fergus collected the makings of a large pot of oatmeal. He was stirring his mixture, making sure it didn’t catch on the bottom of the pan, when something his momma said made him take notice. “What do you mean Uncle Mervin’s retired? He’s barely forty.”

  “It’s the way things are at home.” Momma’s sigh came over the phone. “He who shall not be named has been getting more territorial about the fold with every passing day. He’s got some silly notion in his head that our lands are being encroached on, which is not true at all. But he insisted Mervin was needed for fold security and made the man give up his job.”

  “But what about Aunt Josie? You told me two weeks ago she’s just had twins.” Fergus took the pot off the stove. “What will they live on without Uncle’s job?”

  “I don’t know, sweet boy, but things will always work out. You know they will.”

  “Momma.” Fergus could feel his anger rising and he quickly squashed it down. Anger wasn’t helpful in most cases and especially with the one person who understood him. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Things will always work out. Can I help, or…?”

  “It’s still ‘or’ I’m afraid my dear. Even sending money is just too risky, I’m sorry.”

  His momma sounded sad, and Fergus felt bad for making her feel that way. “The offer is there any time, you know that. So,” he said in a deliberately bright tone. “I’ve been thinking about introducing the lovely people of Arrowtown to Lamingtons. What do you think?”

  Just as he hoped, his momma was diverted, and although Fergus knew she was allowing herself to be, the rest of the twenty-five-minute conversation passed quickly. Fergus could feel it, the moment the call had to end. “I love you, momma. Same time next week?” He asked quickly as the last minute ticked down.

  “Love you, Fabulous Fergus.” The dial tone signaled the call was disconnected.

  Looking down at his overly thick oatmeal, Fergus shook his head. “This’ll be fine with some honey and sweet molasses,” he said out loud, determined to be upbeat. “She’ll call me next Saturday,” even though his animal half cautioned about the certainty.

  Fergus knew things in his parents’ fold were bad. The only time his momma could call him was when she was doing laundry for ‘he who would not be named’. The fact that she tried to keep the conversation light let Fergus know more than anything she actually said. The fold conditions were likely a lot worse than what his momma described. Their decision to stay… nope. Fergus wasn’t going to think about it. They made their decisions and he’d made his. It was a good day. He’d heard his sweet momma’s voice; the sun was shining, and, in a few moments, he’d have a full belly. Life, in that moment couldn’t get any better.

  He was just licking the last of his honey from his spoon, when he heard a knock at the front door. “Just a minute,” Fergus called out, getting up from the kitchen table to place his bowl and spoon in the sink. Walking quickly through the living room, he peered through the nets on the side of the door. “Officer Mortimer, what are you doing here?”

  Fiddling with the lock, he got the door open. Mortimer immediately stepped inside. He was still in uniform, holding his hat in his hands, and his face was deadly serious. “I’m sorry to disturb your morning, but I need to ask you to come with me, right now. My vehicle is parked just down the block.”

  Fergus took a step back acutely aware he was still in his pink unicorn sleep pants. “Now? What on earth for?” He couldn’t think of a thing he might have done to warrant a police visit. “How come you’re still on duty? You told me you were doing the night shift. Shouldn’t you be in bed getting some well-earned sleep?”

  “I told Rocky I’d take care of this matter personally.” The muscle under Mortimer’s jaw twitched. “Come along quietly and I won’t need to upset your neighbors by using the cuffs.”

  “Cuffs?” Folding his arms over his chest, Fergus gave the man his best glare. “You’re arresting me? What for? I haven’t done anything, and you know it, or you’d be able to scent I was lying, and you can’t, can you?”

  The muscles on both sides of Mortimer’s jaw were twitching now. “I just need you to accompany me…”

  “Oh no.” Fergus’s bull could smell bullshit a mile away. “I’m not setting foot outside of this house until you tell me what’s going on. Just last night you were loitering outside my house and asking me out on a date, and this morning you’re trying to arrest me?” He inhaled sharply. “Was it you hiding in my bushes when I went inside? Are you my stalker?”

  A furrow deepened between Mortimer’s eyes. “I’ve never stalked anyone in my life. Was someone in your bushes?”

  Fergus waved off the question. “Probably a cat. But you don’t get to divert me, Officer. I understand you have a job to do, but by my reckoning your shift finished two hours ago, so you’ve got no reason to be standing on my doorstep. I’ll just go and give Mal a call, shall I? Maybe he’ll tell me what’s going on?”

  “I think I’d like to know the answer to that too.”

  Oh, my gods, I know that voice. Fergus’s eyes widened as he took in the muscled god who’d appeared behind Officer Mortimer. The chiseled face had a glimmer of a smile as the man pushed past the dumbstruck officer and held out his hand. “How do you do? My name is Cam. I believe we have some things to talk about.”

  “Oh Cam.” Fergus took the hand offered and held on. His nose was filled with the scent of the desert – hot sand, tumbleweed and brush. “I should’ve known just from hearing your voice.”

  “Look, Cam isn’t it?” Mortimer rudely interrupted the moment. “I know you work at the bar in town, but I’m here to speak to Fergus on a very important government matter. I insist you leave.”

  Cam took his hand back, and it was like his whole persona changed as he bumped his substantial chest against the officer’s, making him back up towards the door. Mortimer suddenly looked nervous. “Listen here, Mortimer. Yes, I know who you are. I also know you’re new here, so I’m going to give you some advice. We don’t have ‘government matters’ in this town. Those orders you think you were given this morning aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. I know, because I’ve already called Rocky and Mal and they know nothing about them, which means they didn’t come through the office.”

  “I got the orders last night. Mal and Rocky had gone home.” Mortimer eyed the street.

  “Then why didn’t you say something last night?” Fergus wasn’t sure to make of the standoff. “Chocolate chips and sugar snaps, man, you asked me out on a date. An offer I won’t be taking,” he added quickly as Cam growled – the same growl Fergus remembered hearing the night before. The heat in his heart blossomed. My mate was looking out for me. The only question is why.

  “I think I’d like to know that too,” Cam said sharply. “You didn’t mention that the orders didn’t come through the office, you just stated two clear facts – you got orders, Mal and Rocky had already gone home. Where did those orders come from, Mortimer?”

  Every word in the question was punctuated with Cam poking Mortimer’s chest. The officer was now on the porch and Fergus wanted to just slam the door and hit the reset button on his day. But it was his mate facing the officer, and besides, Fergus never slammed a door. It damaged the paint work and hinges which was destructive.

  The question about the orders seemed to give Mortimer his spirit back. “I don’t answer to you, or Rocky and Mal. I work for someone far higher than them,” he said with a snarl. Fergus shook his head. The snarl twisted the officer’s features in a most unpleasant manner.

  “You think you do.” Cam’s cryptic response had Fergus tilting his head. “I’ve got a message for your boss. Do you need me to write it down?”

  Mortimer shook his head.

  “Tell Austin I found Mr. Ferdinand without his help. Neither one of us will be needing his services, or be following his orders, requests or anything else he feels the urge to send again. Understood? And furthermore, you can tell Austin, that if he eve
r dares to send his minions into this shifter town again, he won’t have to worry about Ra, or Rocky and Mal, or anyone else who lives here. He’ll be dealing with me personally, Camden Stone. Got it?”

  Mortimer’s eyes widened and his face paled. “You’re Camden Stone? I had no idea.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll tell him. I’ll call him right away.”

  “You do that,” Cam snarled, and Fergus’s heart rate skipped a beat. “And when you’ve done that, I suggest you march your ass down to the sheriff’s office and slap your resignation on Mal’s desk. I don’t want to see your sorry ass around town again or I’ll come after it. Deal?”

  “Deal. Deal.” Mortimer backed up to the steps. “I’ll tell him. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll…”

  “Be gone by lunchtime.” Cam gave the man a final push, sending him flying down the stairs. “And for the record, I don’t work in the bar, I damn well own it. Now piss off.”

  Scrambling to his feet, Mortimer took off running. Fergus stood in the doorway, watching the man disappear. Then he glanced over at Cam who was still bristling, in such a hunky fashion. “Do you think we should have that talk now, Cam, or am I supposed to call you Mr. Stone?”

  Chapter Six

  Nothing in Cam’s morning had gone right. First, he’d overslept, dreaming sexy scenes involving his mate. He’d woken up in his human form, stark naked with the burrow he’d made the night before doing nothing to hide him from prying eyes. Slinking past waking households to get to his own place, did just as little for his peace of mind. Nudity was a shifter fact of life, but Fergus lived in a family neighborhood and there were some things little ones didn’t need to see.

  It took him an age to get rid of the scent blocking potion from out of his skin. He’d debated even washing it off, but continuing to wear it would have been deceitful, and Fergus deserved to know what they were to each other when they met in person. So, he scrubbed until his skin was raw which seemed to take forever. And then, for some reason he couldn’t decide what to wear. Him, who’d never cared what other people thought of him before, had a wardrobe crisis.