and playing cards at the saloon, it’s what passes for a social life in Gold Gulch.” She smiled and shook her finger at him, scolding him like a pup. “And the first page of your new copybook will be titled ‘Words I Must Not Say.’ I’ll write the title myself.”
McCall rolled his eyes and then widened them as something caught his attention. “Who the hell is that and why is she waving at us?”
“Yoo-hoo, Sheriff McCall,” a woman’s musical voice rang out over those of the tourists who were beginning to fill the streets.
Rachel followed McCall's gaze to the tiny woman plowing through the sparse crowd, looking much like the figurehead of a ship plowing through the waves. Bosom forward, bustle behind, she steered her prow in McCall's direction, waving her hand and calling. Heads turned to watch the hourglass figure draped in blue silk topped with a shoulder wide hat festooned with flowers and ribbon navigate the sea of tourists. Their brightly colored tee shirts, sundresses and straw sun hats turned drab next to her vibrant and elaborate apparel.
Her toffee colored hair was a confection of spun sugar artfully arranged to draw attention to her long neck. The three curls draped over her shoulder pointed to the modest vee of her gown. That vee showed just a hint of the rounded breasts within; enough to make the display enticing as opposed to blatant. The ruffled trim drew the eye downward to an unnaturally tiny waist .
“Whoever she is, she’s certainly easy on the eyes.”
“Mind your manners,” she whispered. “That’s the Mate.”
“Well, shit. I was hoping to put that off until later, but then again…”
Rachel slapped his arm. Her wolf growled a little, not at the slap, but at the way McCall watched with appreciative eyes, the woman sailing toward them.
"How do you do, Sheriff McCall. I was hoping I'd run into you."
McCall was already lifting his new hat. "And I you, Ma'am. I was looking forward to it. And now, after meeting you, I regret not doing it sooner.”
Which wa s a big, fat lie, Rachel fumed. Until she told him, the smarmy devil didn’t even know who the woman was.
What she was, was beautiful. Her face was an oval of perfection. Bright blue eyes sparkled beneath finely arched brows. A straight, patrician nose directed attention to lush pink lips that framed a smile of even, white teeth. And, at that moment, Rachel hated her.
“I’ve been dying to meet you, too.” The Mate smiled and held out her hand. “Lenora Hoffman.”
“My Pleasure, ma’am. Challenger McCall.”
“And Rachel Kincaid,” the Mate turned to her. “How lovely to see you out and about. Tell me, what do you think of our new sheriff?” She slipped her hand around his forearm as if she were the one out walking with him.
Rachel had a surprising urge to say, “I think you should keep your hands to yourself, that’s what” but caught herself and chose instead to say, “I’ve only just met him myself, Ma’am. I haven’t formed an opinion.”
“Ah, Rachel,” the Mate laughed, “You’ve never been very good at pretending.”
Rachel blushed, and then suddenly felt the Mate’s touch in her mind, sending warmth and amusement. The touch was feather light and would normally have brought a smile, but it had been so long since Rachel felt it, so long since any of them felt it, that the whisper of calm and kindness brought tears to her eyes.
While an Alpha's job was to see to the wellbeing of the pack as a whole, the Mate's job was to see to the wellbeing of the individual wolvers who made up that whole. The Mate could share her feelings with them if she chose and she could feel their emotions as well. A wise Alpha would choose a wise woman to be his Mate.
This wasn't always easy since most Mates started out as fully human. Only through bonding with the Alpha did they become wolver, and it wasn't like any human woman would do. A woman who had the potential to become an Alpha's Mate was special and rare.
McCall rolled his eyes and then widened them as something caught his attention. “Who the hell is that and why is she waving at us?”
“Yoo-hoo, Sheriff McCall,” a woman’s musical voice rang out over those of the tourists who were beginning to fill the streets.
Rachel followed McCall's gaze to the tiny woman plowing through the sparse crowd, looking much like the figurehead of a ship plowing through the waves. Bosom forward, bustle behind, she steered her prow in McCall's direction, waving her hand and calling. Heads turned to watch the hourglass figure draped in blue silk topped with a shoulder wide hat festooned with flowers and ribbon navigate the sea of tourists. Their brightly colored tee shirts, sundresses and straw sun hats turned drab next to her vibrant and elaborate apparel.
Her toffee colored hair was a confection of spun sugar artfully arranged to draw attention to her long neck. The three curls draped over her shoulder pointed to the modest vee of her gown. That vee showed just a hint of the rounded breasts within; enough to make the display enticing as opposed to blatant. The ruffled trim drew the eye downward to an unnaturally tiny waist .
“Whoever she is, she’s certainly easy on the eyes.”
“Mind your manners,” she whispered. “That’s the Mate.”
“Well, shit. I was hoping to put that off until later, but then again…”
Rachel slapped his arm. Her wolf growled a little, not at the slap, but at the way McCall watched with appreciative eyes, the woman sailing toward them.
"How do you do, Sheriff McCall. I was hoping I'd run into you."
McCall was already lifting his new hat. "And I you, Ma'am. I was looking forward to it. And now, after meeting you, I regret not doing it sooner.”
Which wa s a big, fat lie, Rachel fumed. Until she told him, the smarmy devil didn’t even know who the woman was.
What she was, was beautiful. Her face was an oval of perfection. Bright blue eyes sparkled beneath finely arched brows. A straight, patrician nose directed attention to lush pink lips that framed a smile of even, white teeth. And, at that moment, Rachel hated her.
“I’ve been dying to meet you, too.” The Mate smiled and held out her hand. “Lenora Hoffman.”
“My Pleasure, ma’am. Challenger McCall.”
“And Rachel Kincaid,” the Mate turned to her. “How lovely to see you out and about. Tell me, what do you think of our new sheriff?” She slipped her hand around his forearm as if she were the one out walking with him.
Rachel had a surprising urge to say, “I think you should keep your hands to yourself, that’s what” but caught herself and chose instead to say, “I’ve only just met him myself, Ma’am. I haven’t formed an opinion.”
“Ah, Rachel,” the Mate laughed, “You’ve never been very good at pretending.”
Rachel blushed, and then suddenly felt the Mate’s touch in her mind, sending warmth and amusement. The touch was feather light and would normally have brought a smile, but it had been so long since Rachel felt it, so long since any of them felt it, that the whisper of calm and kindness brought tears to her eyes.
While an Alpha's job was to see to the wellbeing of the pack as a whole, the Mate's job was to see to the wellbeing of the individual wolvers who made up that whole. The Mate could share her feelings with them if she chose and she could feel their emotions as well. A wise Alpha would choose a wise woman to be his Mate.
This wasn't always easy since most Mates started out as fully human. Only through bonding with the Alpha did they become wolver, and it wasn't like any human woman would do. A woman who had the potential to become an Alpha's Mate was special and rare.
Similar Books
