Sheep In Wolf’s Clothing - Chapter 1

Oh River... I love this story so hard. It does end up being a larger romance than just the initial FMC and MMC. There's quite a lot of BDSM and F/M and M/M (eventually)

“Hey there, whatcha readin’?”

Sloane cringed. She’d noticed the guy eyeing her earlier. She’d just settled down in her preferred armchair at Tomes & Tea, the local teahouse and bookshop, and a favorite haunt of hers. Sure enough, after a minute, he came over with some sports magazine in his hand and plopped down in the other armchair catty-corner to the one she was sitting on. 

She briefly entertained the hope that he’d just page quietly through his magazine and leave her be, but no, of course not. What was this guy even doing here? This did not seem like his kind of place. She sighed and reluctantly lifted her head. 

Sloane eyed the man sitting next to her. He was grinning, and yes, she’d classify it as shit-eating if someone were to ask. He had thick, light blond hair cut high and tight. He wasn’t unattractive, but he just had a bit of a look: snub-nosed, prominent jaw, thick and muscular. Not her type, and she knew she certainly wasn’t his, regardless of his apparent interest.

“It’s an Eldritch horror, with a dark sense of humor,” she said flatly, then returned to her book.

“Heh, wow, that sounds kind of nerdy,” he chuckled as he spread his legs and leaned in. “You must like reading, huh?”

Yes, Chad, I like being left in peace to read, she thought. 

That would likely earn her a scene from this guy. She had already clocked him as the type who would stand up and call her a bitch. So instead, she just shrugged noncommittally and mumbled, “Hence, the bookstore,” keeping her eyes pinned to her book. 

This didn’t deter the guy, who, with a snort, started peppering her with questions about whether she lived around here, if she came here often, if she was a natural redhead, etc. Sloane was definitely feeling cornered. 

Fuck, she thought. The only way I’m possibly getting out of this without him blowing up is to try to just excuse myself. I could leave quickly and pray he doesn't follow me. 

She was furious at the thought. She’d barely started her tea and had planned to order a scone in a little while. This asshat was going to ruin her evening just because he chose to ignore her obvious discomfort. Sloane felt the anxiety and frustration spike. She swallowed hard as tears threatened. 

Don't cry, do not fucking cry, Sloane.

Angry crying was real, and Sloane hated it when it happened to her. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” He asked, leering a little. 

“Actually, she is. Hey, sweetheart.” Suddenly, another man was standing in front of her, smiling. “I found that, um, sci-fi anthology you were looking for.” He passed her a thick book. She took it on autopilot, staring up at him, befuddled. He arched his eyebrow briefly, turned, and eyed the Chad. Sloane took him in as he did.

She realized she recognized him. She’d seen him around Tomes & Tea before. Like her, he was also a frequent visitor who often tucked in to do work or at least something mimicking work for hours on his computer. 

He’d accidentally caught her eye once or twice and quickly looked away, a blush staining his tan cheeks. She had assumed he was super shy or not really interested or something. She thought him cute, but she wasn’t looking, and anyway, she didn't want to risk connecting to anyone who also frequented the bookstore. It’d be a bit like the bad choice of dating a coworker. So she’d only occasionally glanced at him when he’d be looking intently over the shelves, as they were often both in the sci-fi and horror sections, but basically had not thought about him overmuch. 

But now here he was, his mop of tangled curls, so dark brown they were almost black, hanging in his eyes. He gave the glaring Chad a grin and a shrug, and then, seeing that the other man was not going to get up and give over the seat, folded his lean frame down to the floor and leaned back on the base of the armchair Sloane was tucked up in. He sighed as though he could finally relax now that he was with her. Somehow unable to help herself, Sloane slid her fingers through those shining loose curls. They were every bit as soft as she’d suspected they were.

Jesus and Cthulhu, what the ever-loving hell are you doing, Sloane? Don’t touch random strangers without asking… or like, at all!

She swallowed when the man sitting at her feet, okay, yeah, that’s a thing that’s happening, instead of pulling back, hummed in contentment at her touch and let his head fall back to bump against her curled-up leg. He tilted back further for a moment and smiled up at her. 

His eyes were beautiful. 

She’d not really noticed them before, maybe subconsciously noting they were brown in passing. They were not just brown, though; they were a rich sable with dark brown rings around the outer edge of his irises and flecked with amber. 

Sloane had never thought much about brown eyes. She was crazy for blue, or at the most green, like her own. But his eyes were striking. She decided then and there that she was a fan of brown eyes, after all. 

His skin was naturally tan, and his teeth were very white. He shifted his head back to look down at his books, but pressed against her hand like a dog wanting to be petted. 

Who was Sloane to say no? So she kept gently carding her fingers through his hair.

After huffing for a bit, the other guy realized he had chosen the wrong prey that evening and gave up the pretense that he was sitting there to read. The man stood and stalked off. Sloane felt her shoulders lower. She glanced down at the man at her feet. She took a moment to wonder whether she was out of the frying pan and into the fire with her rescuer but decided to assume the best, not the worst, of him.

“Thank you,” she murmured in a low voice, running her fingers one last time through his tangled curls before lifting her hand. He was quiet and still for a long moment, then sighed softly and climbed quickly to his feet. He sidestepped to the other armchair and collapsed into it like his strings had been cut, flopping down as gracelessly as he’d just gracefully risen. He blew the curls off his forehead, then cut a look at her. Flushing, he looked down.

“Of course! I saw that he was…”

“Being a total Chad?”

He huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I’m Sloane, by the way,” she leaned over and offered her hand. “You might as well know my name, since you’re apparently my boyfriend and all that.” That adorable grin came out again.

“River,” he leaned over, his warm hand squeezing hers in a friendly way before letting go. 

“Shut the front door! River? Really?”

“Ugh, stop, my parents were… crunchy AF,” he groaned. “So I’m saddled with River.”

“I love everything about this,” Sloane enthused. 

“Sure, mock me in my pain,” he said dramatically, then flushed and looked down again, seemingly startled by his own bravery, joking with her like that. Sloane grinned. He gave her some quick side eye again, and his own grin made another appearance.

“Oh! Here’s your anthology!” she handed it over, glancing at the cover. “Ah, I’ve read this one. It’s got some great stories!”

“Oh yeah? Most excellent, dude!” He was doing his best Bill and Ted impression.  Sloane smirked and felt a little spike of interest at his adorable nerdiness. She reigned herself in, though. No meet-cutes in the bookstore where you practically live! Otherwise, you’ll hate life if something goes sideways. 

Luckily, he seemed content to sit back and open one of the books he’d been carrying when he walked up. Sloane decided that was for the best anyway and settled back as well. They read in what was ostensibly companionable silence for a while, though Sloane was having trouble focusing on her book if she was very honest.

After a time, he rose suddenly. She glanced up in surprise as he carefully placed his small stack of books on the seat of his chair. 

“I’m going to get something to drink, maybe a snack. You want anything?” the attractive man asked in an impressively casual tone, though he couldn’t meet her eyes again. Sloane thought about how she had been craving a scone. She frowned a little.

“I was going to get a scone, but I can–” she started to rise.

“No, no!” He shook his head, finally meeting her gaze intently. You have to save my seat! It’s like, only fair, as my girlfriend!” 

She chuckled. “Look, if anything, I owe you for rescuing me from Chad.” Again, he gave a little snort of laughter. “You shouldn’t be buying me something. I should be buying you something,” she added. 

“It’s okay. You can pick it up next time.” Again, the flushed cheeks were slaying her. He stared at his feet and looked vaguely horrified with himself. She wanted to chirp an okay but kept reminding herself she didn’t want to burn her favorite place with lousy dating decisions. 

“Oh, um…” she finally hummed uncertainly. That apparently set him back on his heels a little. He blushed harder, and she watched his shoulders climb. Shit. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry… I… I’m making you uncomfortable. I’m being just as awful as Chad.” He actually looked pained. “I didn’t mean to– that is, I’ll, um, I’ll just…” He edged back to his seat and leaned over to grab up his books. 

“I’d love a scone, River,” she said quickly. He froze. She could see the tension running through him. He slowly straightened. She wanted to jump up and hug him. But she had touched him without asking enough as it was. Still, he looked so worried. It was hurting her heart a little bit.

“Okay, um… okay,” he finally said. Stepping back, he turned and headed to the cafe, his shoulders still hunched up. 

Sloane fretted. She’d made him feel that his banter was as unwelcome as the Chad’s. But she’d been enjoying it… too much, in fact, which was precisely the damn problem. Shit. She didn’t want to… start something. 

She didn’t. 

But she also wanted this lovely man to feel good about how he stepped in to help her, even though it obviously wasn’t easy, given how shy he was. She wanted him to feel appreciated for being so sweet and friendly. 

She briefly entertained the thought of how nice it would be if someone did come to sit next to her. Then she could tell him when he returned that he’d lost his seat again and would have to sit at her feet… dear god. She could pet his soft curls again, and he’d make that happy little hum, and things would be okay.

“Ah, they had blueberry and chocolate chip. I thought, probably can’t go wrong with chocolate, I hope I was right?” He stuck the plate out tentatively, not meeting her eyes. He was not upset, per se, more kind of… cowed? It seemed like he was regretful of his actions. Sloane took it and felt a little shiver as their fingers brushed. 

“Best boyfriend ever,” she murmured. She watched him cut a startled look at her, then finally, he gave a tentative smile. She smiled back, and his eyes danced away. He settled into his chair and went back to his book. Even though she was very aware of him next to her and how he’d occasionally glance up at her, Sloane eventually got lost in the story she was reading. 

She finally came back to herself when she felt her stomach rumble. Glancing at her watch, she was surprised by how late it was. As she shifted, he raised his eyes and plucked off the glasses he’d put on to read, looking at her with a slightly tilted head.

“I need to head on home,” she said apologetically. He nodded in understanding, though he looked a little disappointed. She smiled as she rose, gathering her cup and plate to take back to the cafe. “Thanks again for the rescue, River. I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course.” He smiled in response, but he seemed a little quieter now. She supposed it was for the best, but at least he wasn’t kicking himself over it. She stood and smiled down at him. 

“See you around, I imagine,” she said, grinning, waving a hand to indicate the store. River nodded, his cheeks reddening. 

“Most likely,” he said, his tone still reserved. She sighed a little inwardly. He was being friendly, but he’d definitely stepped back. 

For the best, she reminded herself as she gave him an awkward little wave and headed away. She did not look back in case he was watching her as she dropped off the cup and plate and then headed out the door. 

Well, it was an interesting evening, she admitted as she headed home.

*****

Later that night, with a belly full of good pasta, Sloane collapsed contentedly on the outdoor sectional on her deck. She sipped from a glass of wine she’d brought out, and tugged her big oversized sweater closer around her. It had grown cool, and a light rain had started falling. 

Sloane’s property was on a small rise that led down to a walking path and a creek lined by trees that stretched out into the forest beyond. If she were honest, it was beautiful and restful during the day, but a little spooky at night. 

She loved it. 

Her mother constantly fretted about the walking path. “Anyone can go waltzing right past your backyard, and you’re always out there till all hours alone!” 

Sloane would sigh and try to reason with her, but it did little good. Sloane came by her anxiety issues honestly. Her mother, who always refused to believe there was anything wrong with her stress levels or negativity, and was convinced Sloane was the one with the problem, since Sloane had the audacity to admit to it and get help for it; it was clear that the issue was Sloane‘s, certainly not her mother’s. Still, she doubted anyone beyond some teenagers sneaking out to drink or make out was out in the late hours on the trail. Too much risk of potentially dangerous wildlife.

Sloane was pulled from her musings and shivered a bit when something rustled from the tree line in the dark. Speak of the devil, she thought.

She squinted. It sounded big. She knew bears and other large animals were in the forest, though they rarely came on this side of the creek. 

Still, she had to bear-proof her trash cans and was always cautious when she went out to walk. She figured, though, if anything man or beast came at her, she’d have plenty of time to see them heading up the stretch of her lawn and could beat a hasty retreat inside. She sipped her wine and watched the darkness. She could see the creek through the trees in the daytime, but now, she could only hear it chuckling softly through the night air. 

She heard the rustling again, and suddenly, something big did pass between two of the trees on her side of the creek, outlined faintly for a moment in the little bit of moonlight that reached from behind the cloud cover. Sloane felt a spike of fear. 

Everything went still again, but she could swear she felt the attention of the animal in the trees on her. She swallowed and carefully eased up, then slipped through her sliding glass doors, closing them firmly and thunking the pin into the frame. 

She stood for a long moment, staring out into the dark, but nothing else moved that she could see. Eventually, she turned back and wandered to her kitchen. Sloane drained the last swallow of her wine, rinsed out the glass, and set about making some tea.

She finally settled in front of her computer. She’d been doing some edits to the latest script, but had been unsure about it. Frowning, she reviewed the section and sighed. It needed a significant revamp. She’d have to get it done and out to Holland by Wednesday.

Sloane put on her ‘get that shit rewritten’ playlist and dove in. She was, by nature, somewhat nocturnal. In the years before her trust had kicked in, her job had her up at five for the commute, and her sleep had suffered for years. 

Now, with a job where she worked the hours she wanted to and backed by the modest comfort of her trust, she’d settled into sleeping till noon and working primarily after dinner, often staying up until two or three AM. It suited her well, especially since her compatriots in their little venture were similar. 

Sloane worked for a couple of hours and finally decided she was pleased with the results. She shot it off to Holland. Might as well impress him by being ahead of his deadline. She glanced over and grimaced at the package from him sitting on her desk. She grumbled as she finally opened it. 

It was, as expected, a new microphone. The Elision had been doing… well, it had really taken off. They’d met all their stretch goals on Patreon, and the advertising money had significantly increased with bigger clients. 

The way they integrated their advertisers’ reads into the show, using them as product placement while simultaneously making fun of them, was hitting the consumers and the advertisers in just the right way. 

MeUndies had literally started a line of merch that quoted Caspian yelling, “If I’m going to lose control of my bloody bowels because that Eldritch horror just ate Simon, then thank the dark gods I’m wearing MeUndies!”

Something about their show… the mix of light horror, dark humor, and a rich, character-driven story was gaining traction. There were talks about having talks regarding talks with Spotify… It was possible their little pandemic passion project might actually make them some very decent moolah if they got the right potential signing deal. 

“We could be the next Serial! But, you know, with tentacles!” Holland had crowed after the latest conversation with the company.

While she could get by without the big money, she was in love with their story, the characters, the fandom, everything about it, really. So she was delighted to let it grow, especially since it meant they could pay the amazing people who worked with them what they were worth. She loved it all, well, except that Holland wanted her to come on in an actual acting capacity. She frowned and rapped her fingers meditatively on the mic box. 

The truth was, Sloane had actually done voice acting. She starred as a character in an A-level video game and as a pilot for an animated series that, unfortunately, was not picked up. She’d done characters on a couple of Tall Tales podcasts and narrated a few audiobooks. She wasn’t the best, perhaps, but she was good at it and liked. So, she wasn’t sure why she kept dragging her feet. She felt like maybe there was some ulterior motive to Holland insisting they needed to create a character for her, to be a potential new romantic foil against Caspian.

“We need to put some relationship tension into things. People love Willa and Nico. We should do a will they/won’t they with Caspian. Like, the new character comes in, and they have this great, snippy banter for at least a whole season,” Holland had insisted.

“I don’t know that it’s needed. I think most people who crush on Cas like that he’s unattached, so they can imagine themselves with him. You bring some Mary Sue in, and it kills people’s interest.”

“No, you’re not getting me!” Holland lamented. Sloane rolled her eyes at him over Zoom. Drama queen, she thought. 

“They’re totally not set up like that at first. She just kicks ass, kind of sets Cas back on his heels a bit. We write the best, tightest banter, like, Nobody Wants This and Fleabag level, really bring our A game. The fandom falls in love and starts shipping them. But we don't even go there till they’re practically screaming at us. Then we start the will-they/won't-they hints. I’m not even saying we ever bring them together.” Holland kind of stumbled when he said that, and Sloane narrowed her eyes.

Sometimes, Holland… implied things. He almost always did it in the form of a joke, but it made her wonder. She felt that was the heart of her reluctance to be set up as an actual character in the podcast. 

Holland was not bad-looking, and he had a voice like buttered sex, but he lived over three hours away, and he had always come off to Sloane as a bit of a player. Besides, they were in business together. It would be disastrous for their podcast, which was finally becoming successful. Sloane was not interested in fucking that up, thank you very much. 

She finally sighed and decided to leave the mic in its box and call it a night. She hit the lights in the office and wandered to her bedroom, rubbing absently at the ache in her wrists and thumbs. 

She thought one more time before she drifted off, about the guy in the bookstore, River. She was determined just to step back from whatever had been going on tonight. If he was actually interested, and she thought he might be, there was no sense in giving him hope if she was not ready to get into something with someone. 

Since her breakup with Dale last year, Sloane has focused on doing what she loves and living her slightly solitary life. Holland and all of the Elision gang brought her more than enough friendship and interaction, even if it was mainly via Zoom. Sloane had exactly what she needed and was content with that. So yeah, she’d do without cute, shy guys with glowing brown eyes and soft, tangled curls. 

Yeah.