From Scratch_An M/M Paranormal Romance Mystery Read online

  Finding a mate is supposed to be one of the most magical moments of a bat shifter’s life. For poor Lake Truman, it’s a disaster. His mate’s rejection would have killed the magic all by itself, but the dead body cinches the whole thing.

  Bryson Caill just ended a long-term relationship and moved back to his childhood home. He wants to put the pieces of his life back together before entering another relationship. But what he wants and what he gets are two very different things.

  Note: This series is a spin-off of Finding Happy (Wingspan 2). The events in this book follow the same timeline as those in Finding Happy.

  FROM SCRATCH

  JUNE 2018

  COPYRIGHT (c) 2018 by April Kelley

  Cover content is for illustrative only, and any person depicted on the cover is a model

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  Published by Hard Rose Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  From Scratch

  The Fountain Village Mystery

  Book One

  by

  April Kelley

  CHAPTER ONE

  Metal scraped against metal at the same time as '60s music blasted throughout the house. An old song, about letting it be, floated around the room. The smell of bacon and coffee to mingled with the music.

  All of it brought back every high school memory Bryson Caill had ever had. Despite not getting nearly enough sleep, he smiled at the familiarity.

  He rolled over onto his back, groaning when every muscle in his body ached in protest. Popping an eye open, he quickly shut it again when sunlight streamed through the window, piercing his retinas. He turned his head away from the window and braved the morning with less sunlight.

  His step-brother, Renfield, and he had snuck out of that window as kids. There had been a thrill to running around Fountain Village in the dark, trying not to get caught. His mother had been the sheriff even then, so getting caught by the police or any of the bat shifters flying around at night meant she’d find out one way or another. They hadn't always been successful.

  The other bed in the room sat against the wall, closest to the door. It used to be Renfield's, but he hadn't slept in it for a good six years at least.

  Bryson sat up, pushing the blankets off his body. He wore pajama pants for propriety’s sake. His mother had a way of not understanding that he was a grown man who had grown man parts. Considering she barged into his room without knocking and pretty much had since he moved back in, it was a real concern.

  He grabbed a t-shirt from the dresser and pulled it over his head before leaving the room.

  His mother and Clover were dancing in the kitchen. Rowena stood behind Clover holding her close as she swayed to the music. She had on her sheriff's uniform.

  Clover stood at the stove with a spatula in her hand.

  The smell made his mouth water and his stomach grumble. The way Clover fed him, he'd be fat inside of a month.

  "You forget my metabolism is slower than a shifters." Bryson made his way over to the coffee pot, pulling a mug down from the overhead cupboard.

  "Human problem. Go to gym." Clover’s accent thickened when she was flustered. He must have walked in on something. And wasn’t that a reason to find his own place. The sooner the better.

  A rubber band held Clover’s long black hair back from her face. Bryson noticed some of the strands were mussed on her right side by Mom pressing in close.

  Mom let Clover go long enough to point to her cheek, silently asking for a kiss.

  Bryson rolled his eyes and smirked. He closed the distance between them, kissing Mom first and then Clover. "Morning."

  "Afternoon. Almost." Mom eyed him as if she were trying to dig through his mind.

  He lifted his eyebrows and met her gaze. "What?"

  "How long are you gonna work for your brother?"

  "Why?'

  "Because your hearts not in bartending."

  Bryson shrugged. Earning money was what mattered, not whether he liked his job. "I have to start somewhere, Mom."

  "Come down to the station. We'll talk about making you a deputy. We could use someone with your experience. And it'd make you happy."

  Bryson sighed. "Can I eat breakfast before I start making major life decisions?"

  Leaving a life he'd known for the past six years hadn't been easy. Maybe he stayed with Alan because it was what he knew. Familiarity provided its own level of comfort even when the fighting and the emotional separation ripped it to shreds.

  One thing he hadn't failed at was being a cop. He loved it, as much as he thought he loved Alan. And that was the problem. He wasn't over him yet, and until he was, he'd be going back to that place inside his heart where his love for Alan lived.

  Best just to cut that shit off at the head otherwise it would strike, and he would long for something he couldn't have.

  He’d already admitted defeat by moving back home. Working for his brother at Batshit Crazy was just another step down that same road. He wasn't ready to be more productive than that.

  When Mom narrowed her eyes, he knew he had to give her something since he successfully pissed her off by that last comment.

  "Give me until next week." It wasn't enough time, but he’d have to move on at some point anyway.

  Bryson topped off his coffee before leaving the room.

  "Where are you going?"

  Bryson sighed. “Meeting Hannah for lunch."

  Bryson took a sip of his coffee and scanned the restaurant, taking in the patrons and workers with a critical eye. Assessing everyone was second nature. Alan had called it his inner cop.

  Several faces were small-town familiar, which was something else he needed to adjust to and still hadn't even after a few months of being back. City life meant he didn't see the same people twice and that had been a good thing most of the time. Being a cop meant he had seen the shit side of the city and he was so fucking over that.

  Everything seemed normal small-town shit in Fountain Village. A group of clan elders sat at the center table, drinking coffee and talking about how young people sucked. If memory served Bryson correctly the faces and the conversation hadn't changed much.

  Right off, he noticed the lady in the corner booth. She had a business suit on with her hair styled as if she were in the restaurant for a client meeting. Only she had a purse like the kind Clover would carry instead of a case that would carry papers or a laptop. She also clutched the thing to her side as if she were scared someone would steal it. The straps held firm on her shoulder. Most people who carried a bag shoved the thing in the corner after sitting down. She'd also been there for at least ten minutes, although probably longer because she had been there when Bryson sat down and had yet to pick up a menu. Of course, she could be a regular and knew the menu, so that wasn't necessarily a tip-off. No, it was the red rims around her eyes and the way she couldn't sit still. She moved around the seat as if she had bugs crawling on her ass.

  Strung out.

  He'd learned to recognize it anywhere. As of yet, she hadn't committed any crime, but he would bet money she was there to either get more drugs or unload some.

  She'd give herself away soon enough.

  In the meantime, he pulled
out his phone and texted his mother what was about to go down.

  His attention was pulled from the woman when the bell above the door rang. His best friend from high school walked through, looking no different than the last time he had seen her, except for the long flowing blonde hair hanging nearly to the middle of her back in a sheet of gold. She had sunglasses on and a smile. He put his cup down and stood from the booth, hugging her when she closed the distance.

  "By the gods, you look better than the last time I saw you. But then you lost a hundred eighty pounds of asshole." Hannah patted him on the back as if that would soften the blow before she pulled away. "How long has it been since we saw each other last?"

  "Alan's more the one seventy mark, and it's been three years last Yule." Bryson sat after she did, sliding into the booth he had just vacated. He remembered because Alan had refused to visit Bryson’s family because ‘they don’t like me, so why should I go’.

  She took off her glasses and put them on the table. Bryson could tell right off that she had met someone, maybe her mate. The sparkle of new love lit up her blue eyes. She also had that look that said she wanted everyone as happy as she was and would stop at nothing to make that happen.

  Instead of asking about it, he let the conversation roll naturally. She had always been the one to drive it along anyway.

  "Right. Well, what are the odds both of us move back at the same time?"

  Bryson grinned. "Like old times."

  Hannah lost some of her smile. "Almost. It's better now. I lost a hundred seventy pounds too, although Frank is hardly an asshole. He moved into Nirvana Orchards. I guess that's where his mate was from. He's pregnant. Big as a damn house but he's cute with it. They're making me an aunty."

  Bryson smiled. "You sound happy for him."

  Hannah turned her coffee cup up for the waiter to fill. No matter how much time passed with no communication, it was like they had just talked yesterday. It had always been like that with her. "Oh, I am. We divorced on good terms. I mean we knew going in that one of us may find our mate, so it's fine. And Pete's good to him. That's all I care about."

  Bryson wished he could say the same thing about his own breakup but he wasn't at the acceptance stage yet. No, he floated between anger and denial on a good day.

  "How's living with the moms going?" Hannah made a face when she asked.

  "As well as I'd expect." He shook his head and chuckled. "I need my own place."

  Hannah gave him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, my parents were the same way."

  Bryson nodded absently, his attention stolen by the man who just walked into the restaurant. He went straight to the woman in the corner booth. The guy's hoodie had one of those front pouches, and he kept his hands inside as if holding onto something.

  Bryson pulled out his phone and texted his mother again.

  He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Hannah. She gave him an odd look but didn't comment. Instead, she asked, "So, why don't you stay with your brother?"

  Bryson chuckled. "And deal with his fuck of the night. No thanks." He never took his eyes off the woman and her new friend as he spoke, and it was a good thing because money slid across the table and the man handed her something, his fist closed around whatever it was until she held out her open palm across the table.

  The guy stood up to leave, and that was when Bryson made his move. He stood as well, making his way to the door. They both made it there at the same time.

  Bryson grabbed the drug dealer’s wrist, stopping him from exiting the restaurant. The man gave him a look of surprise before his lips turned up into a snarl. "Let me go, fucker."

  The drug dealer's struggle drew everyone's attention even more than the shouted obscenities did.

  All of Bryson's training clicked in, and the familiarity of it gave him comfort at the same time it clogged his heart up with dead dreams better left forgotten.

  Bryson grabbed the guy's other hand, keeping him turned away so he couldn’t lash out with his legs. Bryson held him against the front door, the guy's cheek pressed into the cold glass.

  "It's not a crime to have coffee with a friend." He struggled as he spoke, but Bryson had a good hold on the guy.

  "You made a drug deal in the restaurant, idiot."

  "Prove it."

  "I don't have to. You have evidence on you. And so does your friend."

  The woman sucked in a breath, looking around for another escape. Maybe it was the drugs that made her mind slow down enough that she took so long to move or maybe it was something else. Either way, by the time she left the booth, Lance pulled up in front of the restaurant in a cop car.

  His deputy uniform was unmistakable as he got out of his vehicle.

  The woman ran for the back but, by the time she got there, Lance was already entering the front of the building, Bryson knew she wouldn’t get far. "Hey Bryson, mind getting the woman in the back. I got Donnie." Lance had his handcuffs out and handed them to Bryson.

  "Sure." Bryson took them and headed into the back.

  "Donald Medina you are under arrest. Anything you say..." Lance's voice faded as Bryson made his way further back.

  The kitchen was a narrow, long room that looked more like a hallway than anything else. A man with tattoos down his arms and a blue bandana around his head stood at the stove flipping burgers. He had a once white apron covering his front.

  "’Bout time someone did something. Marcy needs help more than anyone I know. And Donnie needed to be in jail two damn years ago."

  So it was a recurring problem then. "Call the sheriff next time you see shit go down." He didn't stop his pursuit to talk or even look at the guy.

  "I ain't no fucking snitch."

  Bryson shook his head as he passed shelves full of dishes. He captured the woman just as she pulled open a screen door. She stopped and turned. Instead of holding onto her, he let her go. "It'll be worse if you run, ma'am."

  Her eyes turned all black, and her teeth dropped, which told him she was a bat shifter, just like most of the residence of Fountain Village. It also told him she had a mate and maybe a couple of kids.

  "If you come with me, uncuffed, I'll have the sheriff talk to the judge. Maybe you'll get rehab instead of jail." He held up the handcuffs in his left hand, so she could see them before putting them in his pocket.

  "You don't know anything about me."

  "True. But I know an addict when I see one. My dad was an addict. He died of an overdose when I was six years old. He was a great guy, and I wish he were still around. I bet your family wishes you were with them right now. You have kids, right?"

  Her eyes turned human again, and she let go of the door. She took a step toward him, visibly shaking. "Yes. And a wife."

  "I bet they're worried about you. Maybe scared for you. I mean whatever you're on has to be strong enough for shifters. You're addicted to some dangerous stuff." And whatever it was needed to be out of their town.

  She looked away and opened her purse. He stiffened, not knowing what to expect. He wasn't armed and couldn't defend himself if she decided to pull a gun.

  In the city, he would have never sent a civilian to arrest a suspect, especially in such an enclosed space. Lance was a small-town cop, who knew most everyone, so he knew what Marcy was capable of. Bryson's big city experiences left him weary, always expecting the worst humanity offered.

  All Marcy pulled out was a small bottle. She held it between her thumb and finger, extending her arm out to Bryson. Bryson took the bottle from her and then put a hand on her back as he walked her out of the kitchen. No one said a word as they entered the dining room.

  The drug dealer was already in Lance's car. Lance stood by the door waiting for them.

  Bryson handed the small bottle to Lance before reaching for the cuffs. "She willingly gave me this."

  Lance took the bottle and the cuffs. "Thanks, Bryson."

  Bryson nodded and went back to his booth. As soon as Lance left, everyone in the restaurant clapped. The wa
iter came over and filled his coffee cup. "Anything you're having is on the house."

  "And here I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the water tower like we used to. But the gods know we were never up to any good when we went there. You're liable to have me arrested." Hannah grinned.

  "Let's just trade the pot for beer." Bryson chuckled.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The best spot for napping was the blue plush chairs in the den. It was a proven fact. Proven by Lake Truman about a million times already.

  It swallowed him up in its thick cushions the second he wiggled around enough to get comfortable. He curled his legs up under him and lay his cheek against the soft material.

  The dads sat on the sofa all curled into each other. Papa was in the center of the pile with Father laying on one side and Dad on the other. The three of them looked about as ready for a nap as Lake.

  "We should go to Bangkok. That soup looks amazing." Father's voice held a lazy quality that suggested he didn't want to get up off the couch. Visiting Bangkok for soup, like the host on the television program they watched, was just something to say.

  "Every bite the host takes makes him look like he's had the best blowjob of his life." The comment slipped out on its own as if his dirty mind filter broke.

  He winced because he said that in front of his fathers but his papa just grinned. "Must be good soup."

  Lake chuckled.

  Happy, Lake's twin brother, entered the room with a look of determination on his face.

  Lake smirked when Happy met his gaze. The next few minutes should be interesting.

  "Jonathan's brother's coming for a visit. You know how they live in the Village now. I guess his mate is like this great poker player and Jonathan thinks he has something to prove. Want to go play poker with them in the singles housing?"

  Lake knew it was a lie. Happy had his head wrapped around some adventure and needed an excuse to get out of the house.