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“I dropped something.”
“Didn’t Waylon call you about the furnace? In the basement?”
“He did.” Alpha had returned from holidays, and I scuttled toward the door, calling over my shoulder, “See you later.”
There was a hint of my mate outside the community center, and as Isabella had been at the hospital with me and Edgar, I figured she or her son might have come in contact with my mate.
I’d snuck into her office and sniffed her coat hanging behind the door. Her sneakers that she wore around the office and that she’d been wearing when Edgar had his accident were under her desk. Nothing, nada, and no luck!
I was hot, sweaty, and stinky when I finished dealing with the furnace and telling Waylon the bad news: he needed a new one.
Jonah came up behind me and waved a hand in front of his face. “What have you been doing?”
“Working, whereas whenever I see you, you’re heading out for lunch.”
“My kids are at school, and I’m hoping to get some smooching in with my mate.”
I was hungry, as I’d forgotten to eat this morning and instead had been inspecting my neighbors garbage bins up and down the street. My mate had to live somewhere, and he must throw out trash.
But no luck, and all I got for my efforts was getting covered in gods only knew what grossness. My respect for sanitation workers had increased. They needed a raise.
I needed to go to the hardware store and pick up a new pipe wrench and extension cord. If my mate was a DIY guy, I might meet him there. I got in my car and put my foot on the accelerator, convinced the hardware store was the place I needed to be.
Hurry. My beast was fed up with not finding our mate’s whereabouts and didn’t understand why I had to interrupt our investigation with work. Work, bah!
I raced into the hardware store, a place I visited frequently. Marge, one of the women who worked there, waved and yelled out, “Hi, Anders.”
“No time to talk, Marge. I’m on a mission.”
“Oh, big project. Can I help?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Which aisle first? If my mate was here, was he in need of paint? Pliers? Nails? Power tools? I pictured him, shirt off, sweat rippling over his pecs while he used a circular saw and cut wood. Oh yeah. I could see it now.
I can’t. My snow leopard was bumming me out.
I headed for the power tools, where I could stop and examine the power drills. But I was on a mission, and that was to find my mate! I pictured myself as a swashbuckling adventurer seeking out his one and only, enduring whatever hardship was thrown at him and overcoming it.
My beast groaned, saying I’d watched too many movies.
But after scenting everyone standing, examining, and bending over in the power tool section, my mate wasn’t here. Paint was next, and I punched the air when I picked up a residual scent.
He painted. Maybe he was a hobbyist or he was doing up his place or he was a professional painter.
Perhaps he brushed against someone who came to the store. My beast was close to taking his fur and scaring the crap out of anyone who wasn’t my mate.
“Marge, have you seen a guy…” Hmmm, I hadn’t thought this through. How was I going to describe him? “…A guy who likes to paint and buys paint?”
Her brow furrowed, and she gave me some scary side-eye. “Is this for my birthday?” She did a 360, her eyes flicking in one direction and the next. “There’s a stripper about to pop out of a giant paint tin.” She hugged me. “I love my job.”
“Ummm, it’s not today,” I whispered to Glen, another staff member. “Better get on that. Marge is expecting something special for her birthday, and you can’t disappoint her.”
I made a quick exit and sat in my truck, a place I’d spent a lot of time lately, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Post office!” I reversed out and zoomed to Snowford’s tiny post office. It was a place to start, though I hadn’t found definitive evidence my mate lived in or near our sizzle.
The place was busy, as it usually was in the middle of the day. I lined up in there while people weighed their parcels, bought shipping supplies, and cashed money orders—or tried to but they’d forgotten their ID.
