Page 3 of Howling Mad
She sets the folder on the desk.“Now, you see, this is a shifter-run business.We specialize in matching folks from different species or from families that don’t accept them.”Her expression grows thoughtful.“You might be perfect here.Your background with pushy pack traditions… You’ll empathize with a lot of our clients.”
I certainly have experience with that.“Thank you for saying that.I worried that my complicated relationship with my pack would be a negative.”
She frowns with mock seriousness.“Why hide it?This is your superpower.Clients who come here often have been told their entire lives they don’t measure up.They need someone who can see past the stereotypes, and you know what that’s like.”
My heart beats faster.“I do.That’s a big reason I want to help.”
She taps her fingers on the manila folder, her eyes crinkling with delight.“So, about your résumé… I’m not actually sure I need it.What I need is a staff member who cares about weird, wonderful shifters and wants to pair them up, drama and all.Anyone can learn the forms, the scheduling, and the phone calls.You can’t teach empathy for misfits.”
A jitter of excitement seizes my stomach.“That’s me, in a nutshell.”
She folds her hands.“I have a sense about people, especially fellow shifters.My sense says you’ll fit right in.Let’s make it official?”
My mouth drops.“You’re offering me the job?”
She laughs, leaning her hip against the desk.“Is that so surprising?I like you, Finley, and I follow my instincts.You’re honest, plus you have direct experience escaping matchmaking nightmares.That’s priceless insight around here.”
I bob my head in a dazed nod as relief floods my chest, mingling with cautious optimism.“I’d love to accept.”
She nods enthusiastically, practically vibrating with energy.“Fantastic.Let’s not stand on ceremony.”She whips open the folder.“We have some internal documents.Think of them as guidelines for how we operate, and I’ll give you a crash course in client intake this week.After that, you’ll shadow me for a while.”
I can’t contain the slow grin crawling across my face.“That sounds amazing.I promise to do my best.”
Her lips quirk in a conspiratorial smile.“We’re a small operation, so be prepared to do everything from data entry to soothing meltdown-prone customers.Also, some species have complicated mating rituals.We also do group therapy sessions sometimes.”
I recall the times my pack insisted on old traditions—long hunts in the freezing cold and howling ceremonies at dawn—and feel a pang of empathy.I’ve always loathed hunting and much prefer a warm bed when the sun is just rising.“I’m used to complicated,” I say.“No worries there.”
She nods.“Good.We can also discuss benefits, but I can see from your expression that your mind is halfway out the door, thinking about how to escape your mom’s next phone call.”
That genuine observation cracks my composure.“She has been relentless lately.This is her new mission apparently.”
Her eyes gleam with humor.“That might come in handy.We can do a marketing campaign.‘Romance Expected is recommended by pushy mothers everywhere.’”
I laugh, and it reverberates off the bright walls.“I’d pay to see that ad.”
She plants her hands on her hips, still chuckling.“We’re done here, but before you go, do me one favor and stop apologizing for being you.My guess?You’re going to excel.”
The sincerity in her words wraps around my heart, soothing the remnants of self-doubt.“Thank you, Red.Really.”
She hands me a few forms with a swirl of her pen.“Fill these out at home and bring them tomorrow morning for your official first day.Deal?”
I nod with enthusiasm.We shake hands, though it’s more of a gleeful clasp than a formal greeting.
On the way out, a brief wave of dizziness hits me at the realization of how quickly this has all happened.Hired on the spot, so maybe I’m one step closer to forging a life that’s mine alone.
The cool air in the hallway revives me when I descend the stairs, forms clutched to my chest and buzzing with cautious anticipation.My phone vibrates in my purse, probably another message from Mom, and I consider answering but decide to let it go for now.I breathe in, imagining how it’ll feel to call her tonight and mention I have a new job.Maybe that’ll keep her from meddling in my love life for a few days.Doubtful, though.
Outside, the city greets me with its bustle as I grin and laugh out loud, earning a strange look from a man passing by.He increases his pace as though worried I might leap on him and…what?Tickle him into laughing, too?The thought makes me laugh harder, though it’s purely an adrenaline rush mixed with relief.
This is my new beginning.I’m free from that suffocating feeling of being penned in by family expectations.My new boss is a red panda who climbs bookshelves and runs a dating service for shifters who don’t fit conventional molds.That’s exactly the kind of quirky place I need.
My phone buzzes again, so I relent and pull it out.Sure enough, a text from Mom:Don’t forget to call about your date with the alpha’s son.We set dinner reservations for tomorrow since you were adamant tonight won’t work.
I clench my teeth.Part of me wants to fling the phone into traffic, and another part imagines an alternative scenario as I calmly tell her I’m forging my own path.This new job is exactly the ammunition I need to prove I won’t be roped into arranged matches.
I gather my courage and text back:Sorry, can’t.I just got a new job at a dating agency.Will find my own mate, thanks.
The whoosh of the sent message is oddly cathartic.Let her process that.
