Wolf's Fake Bride (Shifter Marriage Service Book 1)

Looking out the window, she felt oddly at peace for the first time in a very long time. She watched as the landscape passed by the windows. They traveled through small towns and large cities, each mile taking her farther and farther away from a life she hated, but to where? She told herself that no matter where it was, it had to be better than where she was running from.

After a while, her nerves calmed and her exhaustion returned. She fell asleep, slipping in and out of consciousness as the bus carried her to a new place, a new life. In the moments of wakefulness, she felt something she hadn’t felt for a long time – hope. In the periods of sleep, she felt a peace that she thought had eluded her long ago. This was the right decision, she knew that.

Fear tried to surface here and there, but she pushed it back, reminding herself of who she was. She was a survivor, had always been one. Her independence had started long before she was ready for it and it had ended with her marriage to Carter. Now, that was ending too and she couldn’t say she was sad about it. It was a relief to be free of him. She was taking back her independence. That’s all this was.

The miles continued to stretch out, days spent sleeping upright or slumped over in station seats until she finally arrived at her destination or at least the first stop on a journey to wherever things might take her. She got off the bus in Eugene, Oregon and looked around. It seemed like a decent enough place and that was good enough for now.CHAPTER TWOBy the time the bus had pulled into Eugene, Jocelyn had managed to set up her new phone and get on the internet to look into where she was going and what she might do when she got there. There was a bed and breakfast not far from the bus station that she could get to on foot. She couldn’t book it online without using a credit card, so she decided to just wait and hope for the best. There were a lot of hospitality type jobs listed in the online job forums that wouldn’t require any experience, so she’d bookmarked some of them. It made her feel a bit better to at least have some idea of what she planned to do, but things quickly went downhill once she arrived.

“Sorry, honey, we’re all booked up,” the older lady at the BnB told her politely.

“Do you know of any other reasonable places within walking distance where I might get a room?”

The woman’s brow furrowed in contemplation. She was already shaking her head no when a voice from behind Jocelyn spoke up.

“I’ve got a place if you don’t mind tight spaces. It’s houseboat. Bit of a shithole, but everything works, and the view is pretty,” a man said in a deep tone.

Jocelyn turned to find herself looking at the biggest man she’s ever seen. He wasn’t fat, but very tall and muscular. His thick beard and ball cap suited the faded jeans and grateful dead t-shirt he wore beneath them. He was intimidating, to say the least. She turned back toward the woman as if to silently ask if he was safe and the woman smiled.

“You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but this is Hank Timmons, one of Eugene’s finest deputies. He and his wife live in a pretty nice house over on the Willamette River, but he can’t stop tooling with that old boat of his dad’s,” she told her. Jocelyn smiled and turned back around.

“Jo Claybourne,” she told him. It wasn’t exactly a lie to use the shortened version of her name, along with her maiden name. She’d be back to it sooner or later anyway.

“Well, Jo Claybourne. You aren’t a felon or a drug user, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Well, then hop in the car and I’ll give you a ride over,” he said. “Where are your bags?”

“I don’t have any,” she told him.

“Hmm. New Jersey accent, no bags. You’re a long way from home. There’s a story there. Anything I need to be concerned about?”

“Not a thing,” Jocelyn replied, giving him her best smile.

“All right. I’m going to trust you and help you out then. Don’t tell my wife you’ve run away from home. She’ll think the worst.”

“Understood.”

“Do you need to get some things while we’re in town? Clothes? Shampoo?”

“I don’t know what I can afford. How much are you going to charge me for the digs?”

Hank looked her up and down for a moment. It wasn’t one of those looks from men that made you uncomfortable, but the type that told you he was sizing you up, deciding what sort of person you were.

“How long do you plan to stay?”