“I’m so sorry,” Ty said immediately. “I didn’t think.”
“No, there’s no reason you would have known.” Misty took a steadying breath. “And sometimes I like to think of him here with me, watching over me. Saying, Misty, you could’ve been faster on the draw against that wolf. Don’t hesitate!”
Ty chuckled. “He sounds tough.”
Misty nodded emphatically, remembering the way everything had always seemed to go quiet whenever her father walked into a situation. Anyone who’d been misbehaving would instantly freeze.
“He was really hard on crime, back when he was sheriff,” she said. “No one wanted to get on his bad side. I want to follow in his footsteps, but...it’s harder when you’re a woman.”
“You seem plenty tough to me.” Ty’s voice was serious, and he kept steady eye contact—not buttering her up, but telling the truth as he saw it. “And I’ve seen you in action.”
Misty couldn’t help smiling a little. “I try. You aren’t a typical man, though.”
Ty’s eyebrows flew up. “Should I be flattered or offended?”
She chuckled. “Flattered! Most men around here would’ve said something crude or insulting about a lady sheriff by now.”
“Sounds like most men around here aren’t comfortable enough in their masculinity to handle a tough woman,” Ty said easily. Then he frowned a little. “Please tell me none of my friends have offended you.”
“No, not at all!” Misty hastened to say. “They’re a cut above your average guy, every one of them. Pretty much the only thing I’ve got to say against them is that they have a tendency to try and take care of things themselves when the law would be the best place to turn.”
“Well, that’s not a surprise,” Ty muttered. “I’m probably the only one of them who really learned how to work within the system. Maybe the Colonel, too.”
“Interesting traits for Marines.”
Ty flashed her a grin. “Just because we learned how to follow some orders doesn’t mean we wanted to follow anyone’s orders.”
Misty sighed. “I—well, I can’t really say I understand, because I grew up with the system all around me. I just wish that so many people around here didn’t feel the same way.”
Before Ty could respond to that, the waitress reappeared with their beers, and took their food orders. Ty got the steak, and after a moment of consideration, Misty did, too. She usually got a burger or a sandwich, something that would be easy to eat with her hands back at the station, and it was a nice luxury to get a meal that required a knife and fork.
Ty took a long drink of his beer, and sighed. “That’s good. What do you mean about people around here feeling the same way?”
It took Misty a second to remember what she’d been talking about. “Just—well, shifters. There’s this whole pack mentality. It drives me crazy. It made my dad furious.” She could remember his enraged rants about it word-for-word. “The way they close ranks, the way they don’t want to bring in law enforcement, the way they respond to violence with violence. Feuds, almost open warfare at times—it hurts the community.”
Ty looked down at his beer. “Like those wolves who were bothering Stella and Pauline.”
“Exactly like. Although they’re the worst the town has seen in a while. Most people around here believe in minding their own business. It’s the only reason a town like this, with so many different shifter types on top of each other, has survived this long.” She took pride in that. There weren’t a lot of places in the country where deer and squirrels lived peacefully side-by-side with wolves and lynxes.
Mostly peacefully.
“Things have been better lately, to be honest. But every so often there’s a problem, like with the wolves, and it always spirals out of control fast. And no one ever calls the police, because they think it’s pack business and they want to take care of it themselves!” She clenched her fists.
“And that doesn’t go well,” Ty said in a low voice.
“No. I just—I’m supposed to be here to protect these people. To keep the community safe. But I can’t do that if none of them cooperate with me.”
Ty leaned back in the booth, looking at her thoughtfully. “You’re really passionate about this.”
“Of course I am,” said Misty, surprised that he’d say so. “What is there to be more passionate about than keeping people safe?”
He held up a hand. “No, no, you’re right—it’s just that in the city, most of the time people’s passion gets burned out by the time they’re your age. I mean—not that you’re old—”
“Don’t bother backpedaling, I’m not vain about my age,” Misty said dryly. “I’m forty-four and I don’t care who knows it.”
“Good. I hate it when women feel like being older and wiser makes them l
ess, somehow.”