It would be a short and easy trip to become a drunk in the wake of her sister’s murder, Laura thought, but she knew she needed her wits about her. She thought that Shifting Sands would be a safe escape from anyone who knew Jenny, the perfect place to springboard a new life in a foreign country. The resort had people from all over the globe, she planned to make use of her time to get to know some of them, and get a lead for work that wasn’t too careful about looking at visas. It didn’t have to be in Costa Rica, she could get her return ticket changed to anywhere!

She hadn’t planned on Fred.

Fred had decided to join her at the last minute, and while he was fortunately not able to get all the same flights as Laura, he was staying at the hotel just a few doors down.

“I didn’t like the idea of you off in some foreign place so soon after the loss of your sister,” he said, so earnestly that it was impossible to hate him for fouling up her strategy so completely. “Isn’t it lucky they were able to open up a few new rooms?”

It was only lucky if you counted bad luck.

Now, instead of planning her escape in two weeks, Laura was agonizing over everything she said and did — did she say that like Jenny would have? Was she walking like Jenny did? She chose to wear the modest one-piece that Jenny would have, though she’d been surprised to find a sky blue bikini in her closet. She even kept a sensible hat on, though her dark skin wouldn’t burn. She had used jetlag and headaches as excuses for avoiding Fred at meals so far, but she knew that wouldn’t last long. She was dreading the time when he’d finally try to talk work with her, and she’d have to stare at him blankly.

He was such a nice guy, and he’d been such a good friend to Jenny and their parents over the years; Laura felt awful for brushing him off so coldly. She consoled herself by thinking that he would probably assume her chilly behavior was because she was grieving.

Her grief felt oddly far away. She couldn’t really believe that Jenny was gone. They still hadn’t found a body by the time she’d left Los Angeles, but there was no way she could have survived the crash or the ocean… was there? The police had given her no reason to hope. But it still wasn’t real that she’d died. Despite the silence of their psychic bond, Laura couldn’t help but expect her just to walk into the bar and scold her for slouching.

She felt restless, but she didn’t think that’s what grief ought to feel like.

She scanned the laminated drink menu, trying to decide which one Jenny would pick.

“I’ll take a Shifter’s Mate,” she called to the bartender who’d been showing off at the other end of the counter without looking. It called itself a ‘Shifting Sands original, a Mai Tai with a Costa Rican twist.’ It would be like Jenny to take a fruity house specialty and it would undoubtedly be mostly cheap juice and a plastic sword.

She only watched the bartender’s ridiculous drink-making out of the corner of one eye, not lifting her hat until he set the drink before her.

“Pretty,” she had to admit, and then she made the mistake of looking him in the face.

He was as handsome as any of the Mr. Shifters, with a tan and build that Mr. California himself would envy. His easy smile was not as fakely white, and his hands were both strong and gentle on the glass he hadn’t let go of. He was wearing a cowboy hat, of all the ridiculous things. Laura had no patience for the pretentiousness of cowboys, and hated their music.

She wanted to dislike him at once, and instead, she was utterly drawn to him. His brown eyes had crinkles of kindness and humor around them, and Laura had never wanted to touch a jaw as much as she wanted to touch his. The almost-scruffy stubble, the straight nose, and the stunned look — he was straight off a Western romance book cover.

“P-p-pretty,” he echoed her.

Laura wondered if he was as stunned as she felt, or if he was just an idiot. Being an idiot would simplify things, at least.

He’s not an idiot, he’s ours, her wolf told her firmly, canine voice singing in delight.

He blinked and shook his head, which gave her just enough space to do the same.

“You’re Jenny,” he said, to Laura’s shock. “Jennavivianna Rose.”

Laura had no words. She’d come halfway around the world to escape her life, just to meet a bartender who knew her sister?

“We met in Austin, half a dozen years ago. Over spring break.” He sounded baffled.

“Oh wait, yes!” Laura blurted. Jenny had told her about this, when she returned her borrowed boots. “You were very kind to her — to ME. You were really sweet. To me.”

Ours, not hers, her wolf said jealously.

“Can I get you something?”

Laura barely avoided asking him to take his pants off and make love to her right there in the crowded bar. “You, ah, already took my order,” she reminded him. “You’re still holding onto it.”

He gave a confused guffaw and let go of the glass. His fingers left bare spots in the gathering drops of condensation. Laura put her own fingers there and wondered if she imagined the little electric shock it gave her.

She knew what this was from the stories, and from her inner wolf’s animal glee. She’d never really believed she’d find her own mate, but she knew it was possible. Love at first sight, it was supposed to be. Like this, except not complicated by the fact that she was masquerading as someone else. Someone he’d already met.

She concentrated on his cowboy hat and worked at keeping her expression blank and casual. It was something she had a lot of practice with lately; act stupid, keep her head down, try not to put too much together.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, chilling her voice deliberately.

He actually blushed as he realized he was staring at her. It was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen. He put his fingers to his hat in a gesture that could only be automatic. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said humbly. “It’s… ah… a surprise to see you again.”

“It was a long time ago,” Laura agreed with a careless shrug. It was tricky pretending disinterest when everything about him made her heart race and her breath catch. “Small world.”

‘He’s a cowboy,’ she reminded herself. ‘You hate country music.’

She clung to that and took a sip of the drink.

He was still staring at her.

For the first time on the trip, she was actually glad to hear Fred’s voice. “There you are, Jenny!”

She turned with a warm smile for the bartender’s benefit and a little wave. “Hey Fred.”

Fred plopped down beside her on a barstool, completely innocuous and out-classed in his flip-flops and sunburnt balding head.

The bartender’s face, when she snuck a look, was a hilarious mixture of jealousy and confusion. Laura might have laughed out loud under different circumstances. “This is Fred,” she introduced casually. “We work together.” She wasn’t actually that sure where in the hierarchy of the law office Fred fell, or for that matter, what Jenny’s exact position was, which did nothing but complicate her acting efforts.

The bartender tipped his hat automatically to Fred. “Pleased to meet you,” he drawled. “I’m Tex.”

Of course he was. Laura had to keep her eyes from rolling.

“We met a few years back when I was in Austin for spring break,” Laura offered.

Fred extended a sweaty hand for a handshake. “Did you go to college down there?”

Tex looked abashed. “No, sir. I’m not a college man. I’ve been a bartender since the law let me.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Laura snapped in his defense before she could stop herself. She’d never managed more than a semester or two of college herself, and Tex’s embarrassed look hit her in several ways.

“Of course not,” Fred said jovially. “It’s not for everyone.”

Laura gritted her teeth as his patronizing tone, but couldn’t say anything. She was supposed to be Jenny, who’d done seven or eight years of higher education, so she shrugged and took a sip of her drink, nearly stabbing herself in the cheek with the stupid umbrella.

She let Fred and Tex fumble through a conversation without her, sipping at her drink like it would save her. A “Shifter’s Mate,” it was called, and just like the real thing, it was sweet, with a kick of intoxication and a twist of sour.

Her mate. She’d found her mate.

Our mate, her wolf corrected, practically purring in her ear. She, for some reason, did not seem to consider the cowboy hat a deal breaker. Nor did she mind that Tex was a bear, something that they both seemed to instinctively know.

These things don’t matter, her wolf said dismissively.

How about the fact that we’re masquerading as our twin sister, and he’s already met her. That might confuse the issue.

Aren’t you humans used to confusion by now? You certainly seem to thrive on it.

Sometimes Laura felt like Jenny was the lucky one, not being a shifter.

She caught herself watching Tex out of the corner of her eye. He was telling Fred his choices of high end gin for a gin and tonic, and Fred was trying to look knowledgeable about the selection.

Laura emptied her drink, wishing it had been four times as strong, and ate the fruit off the umbrella stick. “I have to use the ladies,” she said, hopping down off her barstool. Fred would probably wait here for an hour or more before he figured out she wasn’t coming back.

“Wait,” Tex said too loudly. Other patrons of the bar turned to look curiously, and a pause in the tinny Spanish radio music gave the moment a surreal edge.

Laura turned back, and gave what she hoped was a cool stare back at him.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to pay,” she said dryly. “This place is supposed to be all-inclusive.”

“No, of course, it’s just…”

He was adorable, fumbling through his obvious confusion. Laura could not get over how expressive his mouth was, or how perfect the line of his jaw was. She’d been turned on by men before, but none of them had ever made her as literally weak in the knees as this. Between the tropical heat and the sanity-eating lust this man was igniting in her, she thought she actually understood why heroines in dirty novels sometimes swooned.

“Can I see you, later?” he finally stammered.

She wanted to say yes. She honestly didn’t want to leave his presence; every move away from him felt like betrayal.

But he was a complication in a plan already made painfully complex by Fred. A mate wasn’t a mandate, and she was past the point in her life where she let her loins lead her around.

“I’m not interested,” she lied. She was entirely too interested. “Sorry,” she softened it, hating the lost look in his eyes.

Before she could change her mind, she turned on her heel and left.