Summary:
Welcome to Morningwood #4
Dusty’s the town clown. Joseph is the uptight Sheriff. Sparks fly when these opposites collide.
Sheriff Joseph has kept a controlled eye on the quiet shifter community of Morningwood. As an alpha lion, he watches his town like he would his pride. Most days are peaceful, and that’s how he likes it. So, when Clydesdale shifter—and budding bad boy—Dusty starts pulling pranks, Joseph is quick to shut down his antics. Except, with each event, it becomes clear to Joseph that Dusty might be something more than just a thorn in his side.
Though they are in college, Dusty’s friends have all begun finding their mates, leaving him bored and lonely. Instead of sowing his wild oats, he’s left alone with his worries. His whole life he’s assumed he was an alpha, had lied to his friends claiming he was, but really, he doesn’t know. And won’t until he can find someone to be his first. Not so easy in a small, secluded town. He knows who he wishes would volunteer—his crush on the sheriff has grown to embarrassing proportions. Sheriff Joseph has all the emotions of a statue, and there is nothing Dusty would love more than to crack that cool facade. If only the Sheriff felt the same way.
When a new shifter comes to town, sniffing around Dusty and offering him a wild, carefree life, Joseph can’t ignore his attraction. He won’t let his fear of the town finding out, or Dusty’s age to dissuade him. He has to claim his mate or lose him forever. But can someone like him be the alpha Dusty needs?
Sack of Gold is the fourth book in the Welcome to Morningwood Omegaverse series and can be read as a standalone. It’s a steamy, fun romp that may or may not include sexy leprechauns. Hint: It definitely does.
Original Review March 2024:
Kiki Burrelli is another new-to-me-author that just so happened to have a holiday-themed series, Welcome to Morningwood, that fit multiple reading recs I asked for. So once again I jumped into an entry that was in the middle of said series. As I said before I am a series-read-in-order kind of gal so to do it once is unusual but to do so 3 times in less than a month is almost unheard of for me.
Sometimes desires must be fed . . .
So let's talk Sack of Gold, the 4th entry in the author's Welcome to Morningwood series. Sometimes you meet characters(main or secondary) that you just know in your heart they are not going to be on the likeable scale, be it pure evil, a flat-out ass, or just misunderstood, whatever the reason you know you won't be cheering for them. Dusty's friend, Cam is one of those people. I won't spoil anything else about that just know he won't be winning any BFF of the Year Awards.
As for Dusty and Sheriff Joseph, well they definitely have a few ups and downs and just when you thought a HEA was in the review mirror, the sheriff believes his eyes over his heart, which can be a good thing at times but not here. Dusty on the other hand could have seen this coming, I'm not placing blame on Dusty by any means, I'm just saying the signs were there but he is far too trusting and either didn't see them or ignored them not wanting to think bad of his friend. I mention these points because there are moments that are a bit darker than often found in a holiday shorts series. As I started in a middle entry I can't speak to the other entries in Burelli's Morningwood series and their darkness levels but for Sack of Gold there was some minor dark elements.
Overall, Sack of Gold(despite being a #4 in an established series for this read-in-order gal) is a perfect way to introduce myself to Kiki Burrelli's library and look forward to exploring Morningwood and other works, backlist and future releases.
Chapter One
DUSTY
"Heads up, Dusty!" Cam called out from the shore a moment before launching a can of beer into the lake. I sank down, then rocketed myself up into the air in order to catch the can as it nearly arched over my head. I landed with a loud splash that showed no mercy to the people around me. Soph shrieked while Seamus dodged the splash by ducking underwater. A little pointless if you asked me, but no one ever did.
Cracking open the can, I let the yeasty, sour liquid pour down my throat. I loved the burn almost as much as I loved the appreciative looks I received when I'd leapt from the water. "Perfect ten out of ten!" I announced to the groans of all those around me.
"It would've been perfect…" Soph replied, turning onto her back so she could look up at the night sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight and the stars stretched on for miles. On this clear of a night, it was so crowded with stars the sky looked milky in places. "…if you hadn't lost your shorts."
Sure enough, floating beside me like a turd in the wind were my boxers. I thought I felt a little freer. I scooped them out of the water, hanging them on my index finger. "Well this night just got a lot more exciting," I announced, receiving many whoops and whoos in reply. Cam had gathered a pretty sizable group tonight, promising they could all be part of an epic prank at Morningwood Lake.
"Those bottoms are mine!" Cam yelled. I flung them toward him, slingshot style, and he caught them as easily as I'd caught the beer. Being a shifter with enhanced speed and agility came in handy pretty often. He draped them over his head like a floppy hat, making everyone around him laugh.
I found myself laughing with them, caught up with the emotion of the night. These days, moments like this were my only chance to relax and unwind. I found Cam's face and he winked, making me warm and wonder if there wasn't more to his words. But I wasn't a bottom—another word for omega in Morningwood, even though omegas weren't required to bottom all the time—I was an alpha!
At least, I thought so.
Still, I thought of the day that Cam came into my life as one of my luckiest days. Right after New Year's, I'd been dying of boredom and all of my friends were finding their mates. All except Soph who was so busy with college and track most of the time that nights like tonight were far too infrequent. My dads had tried to tell me it was because my friends were growing up, becoming the adults they were meant to be and that I should consider joining them.
I didn't know how to tell them that I didn't know how.
I tipped my head back, swallowing the rest of the beer along with my troubled thoughts. I had to worry about all of that every other second of the day, I wasn't going to let it ruin right now. Crushing the can in one hand, I threw it back to shore while hollering for someone to toss me another bottle of bubble bath. A fin appeared in the water, slicing through the black surface like a scene from a horror movie as Jake—great white shark shifter—swam to me with a bottle of bubble bath in his jagged teeth.
Everyone moved out of Jake's way looking like the laziest extras in Jaws. Jake released the bottle as he swam by and I plucked it from the water. Pearlescent pink fluid ran down my hand and wrist, leaking out from the teeth holes in the plastic.
"Dude!" I popped the top off the bubble bath and squirted it into the water around me, taking extra care to rinse off.
When Cam had texted saying he had an idea for a bubbles and beer party, I'd been psyched. It seemed like the texts from my other friends—if I even got texts from my other friends—were all about brunches and baby showers. Harris had called the other week to ask if I wanted to go antiquing with him and Dean Boothe—who kept trying to get us to call him Andrew, or Mr. Boothe, but both were just too weird. Needless to say, I'd declined the invite. I had a hunch Harris had only asked because my dads had begged him too anyway.
I needed more excitement in my life and Cam's plan for the night was simple but perfect: get a few cases of bubbles, a few cases of beer, face the frigid lake waters and see what happened. So far, my skin was so numb I couldn't feel the cold, we were almost through all the cases of bubble bath, and halfway through the beer.
In the distance, an owl screeched.
Cam put his hands out, shushing the crowd. "Hold on, that's the sig—" Hiccup. "Signal."
Every head, including mine, turned his direction. Christine Echo—bat shifter—was the first to curse. The next moment, her clothes fluttered to the ground and she emerged in her bat form, flapping her wings to take her higher into the sky.
My hearing wasn't as good as most of those around me but by the way the more auditorily sensitive shifters around me were fleeing, it was safe to say, our party was about to get crashed.
And yet, I felt no fear. Only excitement.
You're sick, Dusty. Or maybe just a glutton for punishment.
"Dusty, c'mon, it's the Sheriff!" Cam called from the bank. He stretched his hand out toward me, his face devoid of his usual smirk.
"Soph, babe, you gotta swim," I called back to her.
All around us teens and those just a bit older, like Soph, Cam and I, were transforming into their animals. Jake simply swam away to the other side of the large lake while the bird shifters, like Seamus, all took to the sky. Lights of red and blue swirled through the trees throwing their own private rave, but the man behind those lights couldn't have been further from a carefree partier.
Sheriff Joseph.
My legs tingled, and I tried to convince myself that it was because I was trying to swim so quickly, waking up nerve endings that had fallen asleep.
I paused to check on Soph's progress. If anything, she was farther behind me.
"Your mother is going to kill you and then me," I yelled to her. She understood what it was like to have parents that said they wanted to let go and watch you grow, while also never letting go. If Sophie Weaves was delivered to her parent's doorstep tonight in the custody of the Morningwood Sheriff, she'd be locked up for life—likely in some woven cage that her parents made with their own ass strings. It didn't matter that she was nineteen, almost twenty, any more than it mattered that I had just turned twenty and therefore no longer had the word teen attached to any part of me.
I checked back in with Cam at the shore, but when I saw his desperation, I waved him off. "It's okay, go! I'll be right behind with Soph." Everyone else had made it out of the lake, into the lake, or into the sky. It was just the three of us left and as I watched Cam give me one last wink before transforming into his horse and running the opposite direction in the woods, I mentally dropped that number to two.
I turned around and when I was close enough, grabbed Soph's hand to haul her onto my back. I wasn't in my horse form, but I could still swim faster than her this way. She clutched her legs around my middle while I burst into a forward stroke.
"I touched your penis!" she shrieked, jerking her foot away so quickly she kneed me in the jaw. "No! I'm sorry! Save yourself!"
Water filled my lungs when I hissed with pain and I began to cough. "Shift, you idiot," I tried to say between coughs. The lights were brighter now, and I thought I'd heard a door open before closing.
The moment I hit the shore, Sophie shifted and used all eight of her legs to scurry off into the woods. I lay there, panting in the sand and dirt for a second before lifting my body with my upper arms and jumping to my feet—
Just in time for the Sheriff to break through the tree line and shine his massively bright light on my completely naked body.
I squinted, closing one eye while blocking the floodlight with my hand. "Sheriff Joseph, what a surprise," I said, trying to sound sure of myself, but this was too much for even me to keep cool and my words came out more breathy than anything else.
I heard his disapproving sigh and immediately forced every disgusting thought I could conjure into my head to keep from growing hard. Sheriff Joseph was a lost cause for me, a crush I needed to kill, and yet…
"Why do I keep finding you in varying stages of undressed?" the Sheriff replied. He had a rich voice, like whiskey in an old western song. He didn't have a southern twang, but sometimes, when I let myself think about him and all the stuff I wanted to do with him, I would imagine he did. A country accent would suit a staunch, upright guy like him nicely.
"I didn't want to mention this, since you're obviously a never nude but—"
"I'm a what?" the Sheriff asked, his tone a mixture between gruff and curious. I had to be making up the curious part though since all the Sheriff ever seemed to be around me was annoyed.
"Your condition?" I prompted, lowering my voice like I was afraid of someone else hearing us. "The one that keeps you from getting naked?"
"I get naked," the Sheriff replied.
I grinned and tried to hide it behind my hand. I had always been self-conscious of my mouth. And, no, not because I never stopped talking, but because it was so big. Sometimes it felt like half of my face was just mouth and when I smiled, it got that much worse. "Truth is in the eye of the beholder."
The Sheriff sighed again—it was his favorite expression in my presence—and clicked off his flashlight, forcing my eyes to slowly adjust to the partial darkness. The moon still shone brightly overhead, and his cop car lights swirled silently behind him. "That isn't how the saying goes, Mr. Bridle. You don't have to take the whole wrap for this, you know. I've counted at least twenty empty beer cans, and several more unopened." He shone his light on the stack of beers by one of the trees. "You clearly weren't out here by yourself while you all… what were you all doing?"
"Trying to fill the lake with bubble," I admitted, my bottom lip began to tremble from standing naked and wet in the cold. The next second, Sheriff Joseph handed me one of those wool blankets that you always see people wearing in aftermath pictures.
"That's ridiculous. You would need thousands of gallons of bubble bath. You have enough here to maybe fill a hot tub."
"No one said it was a good plan," I mumbled, bringing the blanket tighter around my front. I dipped my face, giving it a low-key sniff. Of course it smelled like the man, like cedar and citrus. Did he spend his time making fresh squeezed orange juice in the woods? I wouldn't doubt it. Though, thinking that Sheriff Joseph did anything for fun was against everything I knew of the man.
My eyes had almost adjusted to normal so I could see the Sheriff better. It wasn't as if I didn't have his face memorized already. He was handsome in a lame Disney prince sort of way. He had tanned skin, always a shade darker than everyone else no matter the time of year and golden hair—the color matching his lion counterpart almost exactly. His face was square and sturdy with defined cheekbones and a chiseled jaw that made the framework for a prominent chin complete with one of those ridiculous dimples at the end. He was gorgeous but in a wholesome sort of way that I should have rebelled against.
Hell, I was rebelling against it. Because the sad fact was, ever since volunteering at the jail for penitence after making some truly tragic mistakes—way worse than trying to bring bubble joy and whimsy to this boring town—I'd realized how head over heels I was for the much older man. His age would be one thing, an issue I'd be happy to look past, but I couldn't look past the way he never gave me the time of day. Unless…
I bent down to pick up one of the empty cans but discovered the can was yet unopened. Cracking the top, I gestured toward the Sheriff. "You don't mind?"
"You're twenty, I mind."
"This is Morningwood, not the normie world, officer," I retorted, bringing the can slowly to my lips.
I felt the heat of his body, stark against my lake-frozen skin. "I mind," he repeated softly as he reached for the can. He was careful not to touch my hand, grabbing it by the top to take it away. After pouring it into the woods—litterer—he turned back to me. "Find your clothes, Bridle. Clean up this mess and then I'm delivering you to your parents."
I groaned and then wished I hadn't. No wonder the Sheriff wouldn't look at me like the man I was.
"Unless you know a few names of people who should be here to help you?" he taunted.
I lifted my chin. "Snitches get stitches."
Again, he was in my bubble, too close—no such thing—for comfort. "Did someone threaten you?" he asked, his voice dipping several octaves.
For a split second I wondered what he would do if I said yes. Then, I answered my own question. He would file an official police report and assign you a number. I shook my head. "It's a saying, Sheriff. It means I saw nothing and will say nothing." I crossed my arms over my chest forcing him to take a few steps back or else we would be touching. I may have been stupidly infatuated, but I wasn't about to get pushed around. I was a horse shifter—not just that, a Clydesdale! And I wasn't going to pretend to be timid for anyone.
"It doesn't have to be like this, Dusty," he said then, much more quietly. "In fact, it wasn't this way until about two months ago. You barely got into trouble, and now, I'm catching you every other week. If something has happened, if someone is making you—"
"No one is making me do anything." It was my turn to use my tough guy voice. "I'll find my clothes and clean up."
I could tell he wasn't happy, but that was simply too bad.
He didn't speak while I rummaged around the leftover piles for my clothing. I wasn't sure where my boxers were, but I found my jeans and slipped them on. I never found my shirt, or hoodie, but Cam had left his black leather jacket behind, so I slipped that over my shoulders. I didn't want to return the blanket Joseph had given me but that was just more of a reason why I should, so I took it off and bunched it up. "Thanks for this," I muttered, setting it down on a log while I got busy gathering the empty soap bottles and beer cans.
"What about this stuff?" I asked, gesturing to the leftover cases.
"I'll donate it to the firehouse," the Sheriff replied.
"Poor Cam," I muttered. He'd brought all the beer.
"Who?" Sheriff Joseph asked keenly.
"No one," I said louder. "Isn't that illegal? Don't you have to take it in as evidence?"
"I would, if I were arresting anyone or charging anyone of anything. But, we can't keep doing this, Dusty. You already have more community service hours than you'll be able to feasibly finish before you graduate. And I don't want to put you in another cell, but I will. It's odd, son. You were always such a good kid, but recently, it's like you're making up for lost time. Is it this Cam? Is he influencing you?"
I tied up the last trash bag—courtesy of everyone's favorite Sheriff—and bent down to haul the bags and the cases back to his cruiser. After, I stood next to his car, my chin lifted again to indicate my obstinate silence.
"Fine," he snapped, jerking the bags out of my grasp and tossing them into the trunk.
My heart fluttered making me wonder if I really was broken. Why did I like his anger so much? I was a goof to everyone else, I knew that. Dusty was always just the class clown—great now I was thinking of myself in the third person.
But I didn't always want to be just a goof and I wasn't going to tell on Cam, even if it got me out of trouble. Not only was he a fellow horse shifter, but he was new in town, a recent transfer from another shifter town somewhere on the east coast called Dix Wallow. He claimed that town was as lame as Morningwood, which always stung because I really did like Morningwood—despite the dumb ass name. I just wished I knew where my place was.
And the main reason why I wasn't going to tell on Cam was because these days, he seemed like the only person who liked having me around. In fact, sometimes, he out-pranked even me.
"Get in," the Sheriff ordered, slipping into the driver seat.
Weren't cops supposed to help you into the car? I couldn't even get him to do that.
"My parents aren't home," I started to say as I slid in the passenger seat. If he wasn't going to put me in the backseat behind the bars, I wasn't going to put myself there.
I shut the door and strapped on my seatbelt while the Sheriff just sat there. When I finally looked over, he was seething.
And I loved it.
"Do you want to try that again, Mr. Bridle?" he asked quietly.
"Try what?"
He grabbed the steering wheel tightly despite the fact that he hadn't yet started the engine. "Lying to me."
"I wasn't—"
"Dusty," he said my name, but it didn't sound like just my name. It sounded like a threat but also like a promise. A promise to do what? Punish me for lying? Would he put me in the back seat? I didn't mind, as long as he wanted to go back there with me.
And yet, something inside of me longed to bend to his will, to listen and obey. I didn't like that part of me because it was confusing. Alphas weren't supposed to be swayed as easily as I was around Sheriff Joseph. "Fine. They are home, but if you bring me back with the siren blaring it's just going to stress them out. They're already on edge because of the new baby and—"
"How is he doing?" he asked, sounding authentically curious.
"Dennis is doing what newborns do, I guess," I replied with a shrug. It was only a little weird to go from being an only child to an older brother at twenty. "I mean… he's a lot of trouble and my dads just started getting him to sleep for some of the night so if you bring me back—"
"Okay, okay," the Sheriff said, waving my words away. And, was that a smirk I spotted? No. It was gone as quickly as I thought I'd spotted it. "You know, if you stopped getting in trouble, you wouldn't have to worry so much about stressing them out."
I leaned back, settling into the passenger seat and readjusting the seatbelt over my jacket. "What's the fun in that?" I asked, adding a shrug that I hoped conveyed nonchalance. "And I could if I wanted to. I promise, mister, I can stop anytime."
That was when the Sheriff laughed. An actual, open mouth, smiley eyes laugh.
I forgot how to breathe.
"If you managed to stay out of my cuffs for two weeks, I would walk around Morningwood in a leprechaun costume."
I tried picturing the staunch figure dressed down in green, a top hat and a sack of gold at his side. "Not that I'm complaining, but why a leprechaun?"
"It's the next holiday," he replied.
This was as close to goofing around as I'd ever seen the man, so my reply was quick. "Deal."
Sheriff Joseph sobered as he pulled out onto the road, his brief moment of merriment long forgotten. "I'm serious about naming names, Dusty. We can't have you guys out here causing trouble. I got three calls about your little party tonight."
"Bunch of rats," I mumbled.
"No, it was Trent, he's a trout—"
"Figure of speech."
"Well, all that I've said still stands. How about we start with the owner of that jacket you're wearing, though I have an idea."
There was more growl to his words than there had been previously and although I wanted to lean over and make him growl again, I slunk away, burying my face behind the collar of Cam's jacket. It smelled like him, like hay and molasses and a little something extra that might've been Mountain Dew. "You might as well give up. I'm not going to tell you anything. One, as I've said, I am not a snitch and two, I might have something going with this jacket's owner and I don't want to ruin it."
"Oh?" the Sheriff asked casually, but his hands tightened to white knuckles on the steering wheel.
"Yes," I said, gaining momentum. I didn't know if the Sheriff had picked up on my ill-formed crush, but I wasn't going to seem desperate in front of him. "He's fun and actually seems to like being around me instead of treating it like a chore, or something that's been court appointed," I added so he knew that I counted him firmly in the other category.
"Is that what these nights are to you? Having fun with your new boyfriend?" His words came out clipped, like he couldn't be bothered to speak them clearly, or even continue with this conversation.
"It was, till you ruined it," I replied, my anger rising. And why was I angry? I was the one sort of lying after all. Was it because I wasn't getting the reaction that I wanted? "Maybe next time you can show up just a half hour later, so I have time to seal the deal." I sat back and looked out my window watching the trees thin. I spotted a street light up ahead and despite the tone in the car my heart lurched. I had minutes left, if he drove slowly.
We came to a stop sign that he breezed through.
I jerked my face in his direction, but he kept his eyes on the road. I noticed his pulse beating in his clenched jaw. That upset to be around me?
He turned up the street to Barnyard Court, the road I lived on along with all the farming and cattle shifters. We didn't have to be segregated like we were, it just seemed to work best. Every house on Barnyard Court had its own field in the back, perfect for lazy afternoons spent grazing.
My brain went into overdrive, firing off ideas of how to prolong my time in the car like fireworks exploding during a Fourth of July show. By the time he parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, I still had no idea and my panic to stay was quickly being replaced with anger. I spotted my house at the very end. All the lights were off except the front porch and the nursery light upstairs. That meant at least one of my dads was awake, but likely not in any shape to care if or when I got home.
Sheriff Joseph was so oblivious to me outside of my role as a troublemaker, I wanted to hurt him like how I hurt. I unbuckled my belt and opened the door, causing the dome light to turn on. The Sheriff's normally golden gaze was dark.
"Yeah, so, thanks. And like I said, try to hold back a little longer at the next party, I'm smooth, but I still need time to work my moves."
"There won't be another party, Dusty," the Sheriff replied darkly.
The hair on my nape prickled against his tone but I tried not to let it show. "Of course not. Night." I got out and shut the door. As I walked to my porch, I felt his eyes on my backside. Would it be weird if I tried to saunter? With my luck, I would just end up falling over.
Still, when I got to my door and the Sheriff was still there, I turned and slowly reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out the full, unopened can of beer I'd felt there when I put it on. I cracked it open, smiled at the cruiser's windshield since I couldn't see inside, and took a sip. I imagined the Sheriff's hands tightening on the steering wheel.
Did they tighten like that when he grabbed a lover? Did he use that same dark tone in the bedroom, the one that brooked no disobedience but somehow made me want to do the exact opposite? My stomach clenched, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed.
Deflated, I opened the door, slamming it as loudly as I dared behind me—which ended up being not loud at all.
Outside, Sheriff Joseph drove away, his tires squealing in his haste to escape from my presence.
"Dust?" my dad called from the top of the stairs. He bounced on the balls of his feet with Dennis propped against his shoulder as he patted his bottom.
"I'm here, I'm home," I said softly, hiding the can behind my back.
"Try not to make too much noise, Dennis should go down for a few more hours," he said, never descending the stairs.
"Yeah, no problem. I'm just gonna grab some food and go to bed." I waited to hear his footsteps retreating, but there was only silence.
"Dust? Did something happen tonight?" he asked with a tired edge.
How did I tell him? How did I describe the way it felt to realize the man I wanted would have nothing to do with me? That knowledge felt like it was slowly sinking into my bones, etching into the hard surfaces so that when I died and dried up, the message would be easily readable:
Sheriff Joseph wants nothing to do with you.
"Nope, everything is fine. Love you, goodnight." I didn't wait for his reply, I wasn't sure if he even gave one. He hadn't been worried about me, just about the possibility that I'd disgraced them both again by coming home in the back seat of a cruiser again. Loophole, it was the front seat this time.
I poured the rest of the beer down the sink, buried the can at the bottom of the recycling bin and disappeared into my room. Taking off my jacket, I hung it on my desk chair and then flopped down on my bed, facing the ceiling.
"Give it up, Dust," I told my ceiling.
It was about time I forgot my wild fantasies.
Kiki Burrelli lives in the Pacific Northwest with the bears and raccoons. She dreams of owning a pack of goats that she can cuddle and dress in form-fitting sweaters. Kiki loves writing and reading and is always chasing that next character that will make her insides shiver. Consider getting to know Kiki at her website, on Facebook, or send her an email: kikiburrelli@gmail.com.
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