Dani grinned broadly. She’d only met a handful of locals, but she liked this strange town full of nightmares and monsters. It wasn’t the smallest town she’d had ever stayed in, but it was close. Still, she felt safe here, despite the heat and humidity and the abundant wildlife that could do her serious harm. She’d spent so much time being different from everybody else. It hadn’t exactly filled her with angst. She was proud of her talent and the life she’d built with it. But it was nice to be in a place where she didn’t stand out. In Mystic Bayou, everybody was different, so no one was.

It had been particularly nice to meet the Mayor, Zed Berend, he of the god-like build and aversion to shirts. At first, Dani thought she was being set-up in some sort of awkward “welcome to the swamp” stripper prank, walking around the house to find a shirtless, wet man, shaking out his long dark locks in the breeze. But the show stopped at the shirt removal, not that it wasn’t enough to enjoy on its own. Because Zed had all of the muscles. She tried to be a better, more evolved person than someone who was attracted to a man because of his body, but seriously, all of the muscles.

And beyond the body, the man had a face forged by a divine hand—long, straight nose, ambitiously high cheekbones, and . . . probably a full mouth? It was kind of hard to tell under the thick dark beard. Dani normally preferred a clean-shaven face, after a boyfriend with a bizarre commitment to scruff had left her with rampaging beard rash on her thighs. But Zed clearly took care of his beard, probably with those artisan beard oils that always seemed to be on sale on Etsy. It looked really soft. She’d been tempted to reach out and touch it, but she figured that was a violation of personal space . . . and probably seven different kinds of etiquette here in Mystic Bayou.

His fog-over-ice gray eyes might have come across as hostile, if they weren’t so damn warm. They crinkled when he laughed, when he talked. If hints hadn’t been so broad about his bear shifter status, Dani might have guessed that he was one of those sexy woodsmen from a fairy tale. Or a sexy genie. Or a sexy huntsman. Basically any fairy tale stock character that required advanced upper body strength.

But she wasn’t here to ogle supernaturally attractive men. She was here to do a job. And she was being super-rude to Jillian by ignoring her tour.

“So why do they call it ‘maison de fous?’”

Jillian smiled at her. “It’s a long story. Do you want to hear it over a cup of tea? I think I left some chamomile in the kitchen cabinet.”