Dolores was sitting on the edge of her bed, in the same motel room she’d been staying in before, tired but very happy after a successful day’s apartment hunting in Hope Valley. After the interview, she’d returned to the women’s refuge, said tearful goodbyes to all the women and staff who’d become her friends over the past months there, picked up her things, and driven back to the motel.

After a few hours with a real estate agent, recommended to her by Tamika, she’d found a very cute place. It turned out that in Hope Valley, apartments weren’t such a big thing as cabins. Real wood cabins, that looked adorably rustic on the outside, but had all the necessary conveniences in the interior. It was right at the edge of the national park, on the main road that led into town. At first she hadn’t been sure about living away from downtown, but one look at the cabin and she’d fallen in love. Home, she’d thought as soon as she’d stepped into the living room, with its wooden furnishings, cozy hearth rug and open fireplace. The property was already vacant, so she would be able to move in tomorrow, with the two cardboard boxes which now sat in the corner of the motel room, containing her only possessions in the world.

Dolores’ chest was fizzing with excitement at the thought of new beginnings, and her phone was resting in her hand. And somehow, the dating app that Tamika had installed for her was open. She’d been getting more and more curious about it over the past days, with that cute little orange paw print icon glowing from her home screen so temptingly. She wasn’t interested in dating, knew she’d never find anyone who wanted her, but she’d been so high from all the good luck that had been coming her way recently that she’d somehow clicked on it. And there it was. An app filled with incredibly hot men. Who were also half animal. It was a lot of fun checking each one out, trying to figure out what kind of shifter they were, before swiping left on their photo and seeing their animal in all its glory. The more she played, the better her success rate was getting, and she correctly identified wolves, coyotes, jaguars, bears, tigers and lions. And then an alert flashed up:

Where would your perfect date be?

1. A romantic cabin at a lake
2. An exclusive restaurant
3. An adventurous hike
4. It doesn’t matter. It’s all about the company

She grinned, lifted her shoulders in the ghost of a shrug, and checked d. Another alert flashed up:

What is your idea of a romantic gesture on Valentine’s day?

1. Your beau buying you a really expensive gift
2. Coming home to find your sweetie has covered your bed in rose petals, and there’s a bottle of champagne on ice
3. Your man surprising you with a stray kitten that he found wandering the streets hungry
4. Being whisked off in a limousine to a luxury hotel

This is kind of fun, she thought as she checked c. A third alert popped up:

Please complete your entire profile to enable us to find your perfect match!

“Sucked in!” she muttered to herself, and without meaning to, she tapped the button to go ahead with the quiz.

An hour later, she was done. And as drained as all hell. The quiz had probed and investigated every aspect of her character and beliefs, as if it was determined to leave no stone unturned. There were encouraging comments along the way: Almost there! Your perfect match is just around the corner! Don’t stop now – you’re about to meet the shifter of your dreams! I’m just doing this for fun, she kept telling herself. But somehow she couldn’t stop until she’d answered every question. Excitable starbursts filled the screen, surrounding the latest message: Prepare to meet your mate!

“I should stop right now,” she said aloud, but somehow her fingers kept tapping and scrolling. And the next thing she knew, her profile filled with a long list of her potential matches. Her heartbeat sped up. “Wow,” she breathed, scrolling through the thumbnails. Does Shiftr really think these insanely sexy guys will be suited to me? She began clicking on one profile after another, checking out their photos, their animals, their interests. It was addictive. Hours passed without her having changed her position on the bed at all. Each match came with a compatibility rating, and eventually she figured out how to order them in order of compatibility.

And then she got the shock of her life. That guy who’d helped her. Who’d made her feel like she wasn’t a freak for having a panic attack at a job interview. Whose huge hand had rested so comfortingly on her back. And who’d popped into her mind more times than she wanted to admit over the past few days, was her number one match. 98% compatible, the app proclaimed. And he’s online right now. Her cheeks flamed and suddenly there wasn’t enough breath in her lungs. She dropped the phone and leaned forward, breathing out slowly, to the count of 15, before breathing in to the count of 10. This is so embarrassing. He’s going to see that I’m supposed to be his match and laugh. She felt like deleting her profile right away. Wait. But just because he’s my almost 100% match doesn’t mean I’m his, right? She scrolled to the information page. And her face got even hotter. Yes it does. Matches are reciprocal. So I guess that answers my question: he is a shifter. But what kind of animal is he? Bear, she thought. He was so big and powerful looking, with that huge, bulky body that she couldn’t imagine him being anything else. She swiped on his profile and was rewarded with a photo of a huge, honey-brown bear, standing up on its rear legs. Its pose was somehow casual, kind of good natured, propped up against a tree, as if it was just shooting the breeze with the guys.

Dolores chewed her lip. It had been bothering her that she hadn’t had an opportunity to thank him for the way he’d helped her at the school. I’ll send him a friendly message. Then he’ll know I’m not expecting him to want to date me. Holding her lip firmly between her teeth, she planned the entire message in her head, then typed it out:

Hey, Olsen,

Funny to see we’re both on this site :) I’m just shooting you a message to say thank you so much for helping me on Thursday. I hadn’t even realized I was having a panic attack until you reassured me. And thanks to you, I managed to finish the interview and I’ll be starting work at the school next week!

I wish you all the best.

Yours sincerely,

Dolores

When she hit send, she noticed that her hands were a little clammy. “Stupid girl,” she muttered.

She went into the bathroom and freshened up, preparing to go to the Portuguese chicken place across the street for dinner, and when she returned, there was a message alert. Her heart thumped as she clicked on it. And she blinked several times in quick succession. He’d sent her a smiley face. And that wasn’t all. There was a woman. And a flower. And a bear. And a truck. That was it. No words. Just these five hieroglyphs. And he’s no longer online. She scratched her head. What? This was up there with the weirdest messages she’d received in her life. And having taught a huge number of tiny people with vivid imaginations, a lot of weird messages had come her way over the years. Was he in a rush and decided it’d be quicker to send some emojis instead of using actual words? Am I supposed to discover some underlying meaning in here?

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it was getting late. Maybe I’ll try to figure out this puzzle in the restaurant. She picked up her jacket and purse and headed out to Ricardo’s Chicken Shack.

She ordered a glass of wine to celebrate the new job and new home, and frowned at the screen of her phone as she waited for her entrée to arrive. Well, I guess these symbols could correspond to the five main sentences in my message? she thought, raising an eyebrow. So, it makes him smile that we’re both on the site? But, smile like he’s mildly amused, or like he’s laughing his ass off at the fact we’ve been matched? Her stomach knotted. Maybe I should quit this right now. But there was nothing else to look at in this empty restaurant, except the traffic swishing by outside the window. Reluctantly she returned to the conundrum. She’d always loved doing puzzles and crosswords, and when she was working on something, she couldn’t quit until she’d filled in every empty box. Emoji number two: so he’s saying he helped me because I’m a woman? She cocked her head and stared blankly at a somewhat tacky painting of a seascape adorning one of the walls. Okay. Quirky, but I guess it makes sense. The third sentence she’d written to him – I hadn’t even realized I was having a panic attack until you reassured me – was answered with a bear. He’s a bear. He’s confirming that he was the one who reassured me, I guess.

The bored server brought her fried chicken entrée, and she continued thinking while she ate. Olsen had seemingly greeted the news that she’d be starting at the school with a yellow flower. Congratulations? Yup. What else could it be? But then the final image – the truck – was giving her a lot of difficulty. I wish you all the best. Here’s a truck. Seriously? I know guys can be a little basic in their communications, but, come on. Maybe it means, I’ve gotta go. See you later?

She was so deep in concentration that when the server brought her a dessert menu, she ordered a slice of key lime pie without thinking. She absolutely wasn’t supposed to be eating dessert right now. Make that ever. She’d always been a big girl, and since being in the hospital had interrupted her routine of taking regular long walks, she was in danger of getting even bigger.

The pie was delicious though, and her taste buds fizzed at the combination of the sweetness of the pastry and the sharpness of the lime. She’d been so stunned when Tamika told her that shape shifters love curvy girls. They prefer them. Tamika had told her her whole life story, how she’d met her werewolf mate, Kyle, in her native England, and how crazy he’d gone for her voluptuous body and her sassiness. Then he’d brought her to Hope Valley, and she’d created Shiftr to help other shifters find the curvy mates they craved, and every curvy girl find the sexy, protective mate she deserved. Shifters were totally loyal to their mates, and they mated for life. In her teens, Dolores had dreamed of finding a man like that. But bullying at school and the harsh reality of adulthood had put an end to those dreams. She’d watched as all the thin, pretty girls she knew got matched up and married off. Even the thin ones who weren’t so pretty. While she’d gotten left on the shelf. She had self-esteem. She didn’t date guys who were no good. The ones who’d grab her ass in the street and expect her to be grateful for their attention. So, the reality was, she didn’t date any guys. Her one and only boyfriend had been more of a friend. He’d never acted like he wanted her, and they’d never gotten beyond second base. So she was the 30-year-old virgin, and she was pretty sure that was how her life was going to stay. And now she had scars on her face and body to add to the reasons why she didn’t date.

Maybe a truck means he wants to tell me that he’s disappearing in his truck. Don’t ever bother me again? Whatever. There was no reason why she’d have to see him again anyway. She paid the check, left the restaurant and returned to the motel, for the last time ever before she moved into her new home.