Page 13 of Fastlander Fallen

“Beaver-Jack?” she called louder.

“Do you mean Devon-Jack?” someone asked.

She squinted at the name. “Maybe? Sir, you have atrocious handwriting. Do you have a problem with Marshall cutting the line?”

“Yeah, I have a problem with it. We all had to make arrangements to be here. He can wait his turn.”

“Okay, Darren and Kyle, what do you think?”

“No cuts,” one of the men yelled.

“I have somewhere to be too, dickhead,” another one said. “Handle it.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” Marshall said, facing off with the last responder.

“No fighting,” she said.

“What are you going to do, human? Stop us?” Marshall asked.

Corey snorted. “No, I just need to get my camera up. I want to take a video.” She aimed her phone at the crowd. “Okay, go.”

Something about that made Marshall disappear. There was no warning, just poof, he was gone in a cloud of strange black smoke. Weird.

“On a scale of one to ten, how single are you?” the man with the atrocious handwriting asked.

“One being super single—no one in my messages, no one catfishes me on social media or even puts a like on my cleavage-baring pictures—and ten being married?”

“Sure.”

“I’m a one.”

There were a few chuckles from the crowd.

She cocked a smile for them. “And not looking.”

“Careful with words like that. This group loves a challenge.”

“Aaah. Well, I should be upfront then. I like knitting little animals and growing vegetables to sell at the local farmers’ market, where I scare most of my customers off with my awkwardness. I still check my ex-boyfriend’s social media pages because I’m pretty sure I broke up with the one person who could put up with my four personalities, and I don’t put out on the first date or even the second, as seems to be the norm nowadays. I can’t cook, and I hate doing dishes. Once a month I like to wrap myself in a blanket and watch romantic comedies and cry as I eat an entire pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Sometimes I drink too much wine and prank call people, and then I have to apologize to my victims the next day. I talk a lot, and I’m not really interested in changing my ways to fit a man. I am fine with spiders and snakes, but have a phobia of worms and will search the ground for them every time we go on a walk, and I’ll scream and run away if I see one. I am clingy and expensive, and I’m also one of those women who will text you in the middle of your most stressful day and ask ‘if I was a slug, would you still love me?’ because I am emotionally needy and at times insecure. I will wake up and require you to listen to every single thought I have because mornings are my favorite. Not all of my thoughts are intelligent. Any takers?”

There was a soft rumble from the crowd, but no one raised a hand to date her.

She nodded and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what I thought.” She looked back to see the interviewee meandering out of the trailer with a disturbed look on his face. “Darren,” she called.

She looked around the crowd, and someone in the back caught her attention. He was laughing, but the quiet kind where his head was ducked and his shoulders were shaking. When he looked up at her, his bright-blue eyes were dancing. At least Ace found the humor in her admissions. “What kind of animals do you knit?” he called.

“Well, tonight I’m probably going to try to knit something called a beaver-jack. Apparently I can’t read real good either.”

He belted out a single laugh that echoed across the clearing, and dragged a giggle from her.

She was glad her mess could at least entertain someone.

Darren walked past her, and she offered him a high-five. He gave her hand a dirty look and left her hanging. Corey nodded, and clapped her own hand with her other. “Kyle, you’re on deck. Beaver-Jack, you’re in the hole.”

“Devon-Jack,” he corrected her.

“Yeah, I don’t care. Marshall? If you are around, there’s only two ahead of you. Okay boys, carry on. Also, why aren’t there females here trying out for this Crew?” She looked around, but couldn’t find a single woman in the crowd.

“Because women are smarter than men?” one of the shifters guessed.

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