Page 72 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

I gave him a withering glance. There was no hope of salvaging this weekend, and I needed to tell someone why. “Sarah has run out on us.”

“What?” Angel asked.

“She caught me shifting.”

“What?” he asked again.

“This morning.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” His hands balled into fists.

“I’m not. She took off before I could explain.”

“And how exactly did you plan toexplain?”

I shook my head. That was a good question.

“Do you think she’s going to tell anyone?” Angel began to pace the width of the hallway.

“No.” I truly didn’t think so. “But she’s taken off on the worst possible of days, and now with this rain, I can’t even track her.”

“She’ll come back.”

“Mom didn’t.”

Angel stopped pacing and looked at me with a grim expression. Then he turned to face the end of the hallway where Sam had gone. “You look for Sarah. I’ll warn the others.”

“No,” I said. “Sarah is no longer the priority. This whole weekend is going to implode. I need to find James Caldwell and get his offer solidified before the Maddoxes devalue our business with one lousy fucking tweet.”

29

SARAH

Imay have been drenched to the bone. I may have had reason to question my sanity. But one thing I did not do was waste my time worrying about tomorrow.

Even though I was quite sure there would be consequences to my seeing what I saw (I still couldn’t put words to the image), I was not about to let Reese lose the resort.

Sure, things hadn’t gone according to plan, but the Maddox party was going to be a success even if I had to walk across hot coals to make it so.

For weeks, ever since I discovered the old barn, I’d known it would make the most beautiful event space, and I hadn’t been wrong. It had taken quite a bit of elbow grease to get it swept out, and I’d had to do all the work on the sly—not wanting Reese to protest the changes.

But now that I had all the tables set with white linen tablecloths and mason jars filled with spring wildflowers, and after I’d risked my life yesterday getting thousands of twinkle lights wrapped around the rafters, the barn looked like a Pinterest fairy tale.

“Are we setting up in that corner?” asked a male voice behind me.

I turned to see Jordan, the lead singer from the Mad Hatter’s house band, standing in the open doorway with his guitar case in one hand and a microphone stand in the other. His black lab puppy was sniffing around the entrance, his tail wagging.

“Sorry,” Jordan said. “I couldn’t get a dog sitter until later this afternoon.”

“That’s okay.” I met them both in the doorway and picked up the puppy, kissing the top of its head. Something about stroking its fur calmed my nerves to a manageable level—that is, until it had me thinking about stroking a mountain lion's sleek coat of tawny fur.

I cleared my throat. “And, yes. You guys can set up on that raised area in the corner.”

Jordan signaled to his bandmates, and they unloaded their instruments and equipment from the back of their van.

“You really made this place look amazing,” Jordan said.

“Thanks. And thanks again for doing this on such short notice.” I set the puppy down.

---