Tropical Leopard's Longing (Shifting Sands Resort Book 8)

by Zoe Chant

  Breck rolled up his sleeves in order to wash the few dishes that had accumulated while he was away. “Alright then,” he said dismissively.

  His unfriendly responses to Eugene’s attempts at conversation finally got through, and Eugene, frowning, gave up at last and left the noisy kitchen.

  It was only after the man had left that Breck realized it sounded almost like Eugene was trying to interest him in Liam. Was he trying to sabotage the wedding by setting them up? Breck chuckled. He could have told Eugene he was wasting his time barking up that tree.

  Not only had Liam shown no interest in Breck, Breck was not sure anyone in the world would ever interest him again after meeting Darla.

  Chapter 21

  Darla crept out as her mother was talking over the menu with Madame Nadine on the phone and made her way back up to the restaurant. She paused to make brief, polite conversation with the bridesmaids who were gathered at the bar. They were talking about the cute bartender, and the hunk of a landscaper, and the gorgeous native handyman, but they changed the topic when she joined them, and she heard them start it back up as she left once she’d managed the minimum social niceties.

  At least they were enjoying her wedding celebration.

  As she had hoped, the restaurant was nearly empty outside of her mother’s dictated meal hours.

  Nearly empty. Sitting at the table next to the one she had been at that morning was a woman so large that Darla had to do a double take.

  No one, she was very sure, had ever insisted on a personal trainer or a diet to this woman. And Darla thought, enviously, that she didn’t look as though she needed it.

  She was, despite — or possibly because of — her great weight, the most arresting woman Darla had ever seen, health and self-confidence like a crown on her head. The chair she was on seemed barely capable of holding her, but she was holding court as if she owned the place, every gesture full of strength and grace. She had waves of thick auburn hair past her waist, and Darla was sure that hours with Lydia and Laura at the spa would never give her such perfect nails.

  Chef was sitting across from her, gazing at her in unabashed adoration as they spoke. When he saw Darla, he stood. “Miss Grant,” he said politely.

  “Sorry, I’m only here to get my purse,” Darla said, honestly sorry to disturb them. “I must have forgotten it earlier…”

  The large woman turned to see her, and her chair gave such a groan that Darla thought it was surely on the verge of collapse. “Ah, you are the bride I’ve heard so much about,” she greeted.

  What had she heard? Darla wondered, heart in her throat.

  “I am Magnolia,” the woman introduced, offering a bejeweled hand that Darla wasn’t sure if she was supposed to shake or kiss. She settled for giving it the slightest fingertip shake, and Magnolia seemed to accept that as her due. “Come, sit with me, darling. Chef was about to run off and abandon me to start the samples for your harpy of a mother.”

  Chef made a noise, as if he didn’t approve of the frank description but didn’t want to come out and say so.

  “She is!” Magnolia insisted. “She’s so strict about when the rest of us can come to the restaurant, Lydia says she’s terrible to the staff, and Gizelle is frightened half to death of her, the poor dear.” She gave Darla a sly look. “And banning Breck from serving altogether. We’re all outraged by her self-righteous attitude.”

  Darla fell obediently into the chair that Chef had just abandoned.

  “Bring the dear thing some food,” Magnolia suggested. “Doesn’t your mother let you eat at all?”

  Darla wanted to protest that she’d already had not one, but two breakfasts, but Magnolia didn’t let her, waving Chef away imperiously.

  Magnolia leaned forward, and the table gave a moan under her weight as the chair creaked ominously. “Now Darla, darling,” she said in a voice that wouldn’t carry past their table. “I understand you’re our Breck’s mate, and that you can’t get out of your wedding, which amply explains why you look like you’ve lost your best friend and stopped eating altogether, but tell me, isn’t he the just the most delicious shifter you’ve ever seen? Honestly, if I weren’t a happily mated woman, I’d have that young man making personal service deliveries to my cottage every chance I got. Such arms, he has! And his ass!”

  Darla cleared her throat weakly, sure her face was beet-red. Whatever she had expected to discuss with this woman, Breck’s personal attributes had not made the list. “He’s… ah…”

  Ours, her snow leopard insisted jealously. All ours. Deliciously ours.

  “Very… handsome,” Darla squeaked.

  Magnolia leaned back and laughed. “Oh, your face,” she said kindly. “I didn’t mean to make you squirm, dear. I just assumed that you’d be spending every chance you got with the poor man before you had to part ways.”

  “I can’t,” Darla managed to say, confused and distressed by the idea as much as she longed for it. “I’m getting married.”

  “You’re not married yet,” Magnolia said pointedly. “And let’s face it, darling, the time we have together is terribly short no matter who you are and how much stands in your way. If you have a chance at a few moments of happiness, you take them, and you hold onto them and you do the best with them you possibly can, even if it’s not how you thought things might be.”

  She wasn’t looking at Darla, for the end of her words, but over Darla’s shoulder, with soft violet eyes. Then her gaze snapped back to Darla. “And dear, if you haven’t figured it out by now, Breck knows how to live now better than most of us do. You should let him teach you that.”

  Darla stared back at her, as Chef appeared from behind her with an absolute platter of food: cubes of glistening fruit, croissants, slices of cold meat, exquisite little twists of homemade mozzarella. “I couldn’t possibly eat all of this,” Darla protested.

  “Oh, posh,” Magnolia said expansively. “I’ll help you.”

  Which is how Darla ended up eating a third breakfast, listening to Magnolia talk about the beauties and qualities of Shifting Sands Resort, and thinking hard about her choices for the next three days.

  She forgot about the apron in her purse.

  Chapter 22

  There was another minor earthquake after lunch. The only loss was a wineglass that fell off the counter in The Den; otherwise it was just one of the tiny rumbles that were starting to feel like just another feature of the resort.

  “Who is supposed to be doing these dishes?” Saina asked crossly from the kitchen as she cleaned up the broken glass. “Seriously, there are no clean plates, and it’s starting to attract ants.” She smashed one with her thumb. “Ew!”

  Breck, lying on the couch playing a first person shooter and losing badly, glanced over. They didn’t usually have a strict chore schedule, but he was in the habit of cleaning up the kitchen every time he used it. But the past few days, he hadn’t been able to dredge up the energy to care if there were dirty dishes, barely interested in feeding himself. “Sorry,” he said, sounding unapologetic to his own ears.

  “Oh, yuck, this dishtowel is crunchy,” Saina said in disgust. “When was the last time these were changed? Breck don’t you usually do the shared laundry?”

  “Yeah,” Breck said, as his character died again. He thumbed off the game, but made no move to get up off the couch.

  Saina seemed to finally notice his malaise. “I don’t think I noticed how much you do around here,” she said as she dumped the last of the broken glass into the over-full trash. “Are you... are you okay?”

  Saina wasn’t the sort to be sympathetic to self-pity, or to be particularly sympathetic in general, so Breck was touched by the question. “I’ll be fine,” he lied.

  Saina’s mouth twisted doubtfully. “You know that mermaids can usually tell if people are telling the truth,” she suggested.

  Breck hadn’t know that, and wondered how many of his outrageous stories she’d known the real truth behind. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, not
caring if she believed it or not.

  To his surprise, she came and sat beside him on the couch. “So, I’m not the most… people-oriented person,” she said frankly. “And it’s not really siren custom to give a damn about anyone except ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” Breck said, equally honestly. Saina had been an odd fit in their quirky work family, and he was pretty sure that she was the most surprised of all of them how well she had adjusted to the affectionate and cooperative employees who lived in The Den.

  “I’m really sorry you got yanked from your work by a ridiculous bigot,” Saina said carefully. “And I know that you cared a lot about what you did. So if you want to talk about it or whatever, I’d listen.”

  Despite the musical lilt to her voice, she said it like she was offering her wrists to be slit, Breck thought, and he was honestly touched by her thoughtfulness. He also knew that talking about Darla wasn’t going to fix a thing. “I appreciate the offer,” he said sincerely. “But you can’t help me with this.”

  Saina shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said without offense. “I’ll do a load of dishes if you want.”

  “Thanks, Saina,” Breck said.

  “And Breck…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Who’s your mate?”

  Breck sat up straight. “What do you mean?” he said with no hint of his usual smoothness.

  Saina looked apologetic. “I’ve gotten to the point where I can recognize it, like I can tell when someone’s telling the truth or not. My magic bounces off of mates weirdly. You’re sort of… vibrating with it.”

  “You can’t tell anyone!” Breck insisted so vehemently that Saina’s eyes got large.

  “Alright…” Saina said reluctantly.

  “Not even Bastian,” Breck added fiercely.

  Saina’s eyebrows knit in elegant confusion. “Look, I know the staff will tease you about it, but they won’t—”

  “No one!” Breck was sitting up now, looking her urgently in the eyes. Too many people knew already, and he didn’t want any more pity that he already had. Worse, the others might try to figure out who she was and make some futile attempt to solve a problem they didn’t understand the messy details behind.

  Saina stared at him in silent surprise. “Alright,” she finally said. “I won’t mention it.”

  “Thanks,” Breck said sullenly, sinking back into the couch with the game controller. “Much appreciated.”

  When she looked like she might want to talk further, Breck put on the game headphones and tried to distract himself shooting zombies and hellhounds.

  Chapter 23

  By dinner, Darla had still not managed to get rid of the apron. She left it in her purse, but left her purse in her room, shoved beneath the edge of her bed.

  “I thought I might sit with Liam tonight,” she suggested to her mother as they approached the restaurant and she caught sight of Liam sitting alone. The next night, they would begin the formal dinners; this was her last chance at anything that even resembled privacy.

  Her mother, who was already greeting the newest arrivals, had no objection to this proposal, and looked at Darla’s wrist suggestively as they parted. The bracelet was dull metal.

  Liam smiled warmly as she sat opposite him and let the server put a napkin in her lap and tell her the menu. “You look lovely,” he said sincerely.

  Darla smiled wanly in reply. “I’ve spent enough time in the spa today that I ought to,” she said.

  She spent the meal tensely listening to the conversations around them and picking at the food on her plate, making dutiful conversation with Liam as she wondered where Breck was and what he was doing.

  “Would you like to go out for a walk?” Liam invited unexpectedly. “Assuming that you aren’t any more interested in the dessert than you were the filet.”

  Darla looked down at her picked-over steak and put her fork down, only just realizing that Liam had been no more interested in his delectable meal than she had been in hers. “That would be lovely,” she said sincerely, feeling guilty. Was she so wrapped up in her own concerns and needs that she hadn’t noticed that her friend was suffering, too?

  They were stopped no less than five times trying to escape the restaurant, by distant relatives or society friends who wanted to congratulate the happy couple and exclaim over what a lovely pair they made.

  At last they were alone in the night, the chatter of the diners dying behind them to the drone of the tropical night noises and the whisper of the ocean. Liam took her hand, strong fingers twining with hers and Darla’s throat tightened thinking how badly she wished they were someone else’s.

  “Darla,” Liam said, when they had made their way down the stairs past the bar and down again to the pool deck overlooking the beach. “We’ve got to figure out something better than this. This is worse than my worst fear when we agreed to do this. You knew I wouldn’t be able to be what you needed... and you’re so miserable I can’t bear it.”

  “Have I done such a terrible job of hiding it?” Darla asked, not bothering to try to deny it.

  “Maybe not with everyone else, but I know you a little,” Liam reminded her. “And your mate… Darla, you must be in agony.”

  Darla was keenly aware that someone looking down over the restaurant deck might see… if not their faces, the poses of their bodies, leaning together on the railing looking out over the ocean. Did they look like lovers eagerly anticipating their nuptials? Did they look like friends trying to make the best of a sticky situation? Did she look like someone who wanted a little to jump off the pool deck and see if the fall to the beach would kill her or only hurt a lot?

  The thought drew her back in alarm. She’d never had such a dire thought before. She felt like her brain wasn’t her own, like she was losing control. “It’s… terrible,” she admitted in a whisper. “I feel like I’m inside out, like nothing makes the slightest bit of sense. Like I’m in a toboggan heading down a mountain of broken glass going impossibly fast. I only feel better when I’m near him, even if we… can’t.”

  Liam put an arm around her. That would be convincing, if someone were looking at them through the darkness, even if it was only truly a gesture of friendship.

  “Would it be better if you could?” he asked.

  Darla froze.

  “I don’t know of any way out of this,” Liam continued thoughtfully. “If you chose Breck, Eugene would challenge, and you’d be back where you started. You run away… and… well, that has problems, too.”

  But Darla was still locked on the idea of having Breck, even just for a moment. What would it be like, knowing what his kiss tasted like, to have a memory of the feel of his skin, his hair through her fingers, his weight, his smell…

  She had to wrestle herself back to the moment with every scrap of her strained willpower.

  “And the home,” Darla reminded him between gritted teeth. “All those poor people who would have nowhere to go once my mother was done destroying their lives. Mrs. Asher. She’s like a grandmother to me. Mr. Danby...”

  She wasn’t thinking about them. She was thinking only of herself, of her own blazing need, her own terrible hunger, her own aching emptiness.

  “Darla,” Liam said gently.

  She opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d shut and found that their bracelets were both glowing brightly.

  That would give any watchers an eyeful, she thought bitterly, as she clamped her hand uselessly over her own.

  “Sorry,” she said faintly. “I can’t… can’t help it.”

  “Darla,” Liam repeated. “Would it be better… if you went to him?”

  Nothing in the world could be better, she was convinced. And nothing could be worse.

  Even if Darla didn’t have words to speak, the bracelets, now as bright as beacons, said plenty. Let him teach you how to live, Magnolia had said. And oh, she wanted to.

  “Past the event hall, you know that white manor?”

  Darla crinkled her brows at him in confusion
. “Yes,” she said hesitantly.

  “Go around the back, there’s a door on the first floor past the retaining wall. There’s a metal lizard on the wall next to it.”

  Darla stared at him.

  “That’s Breck’s private room entrance,” Liam explained. “He’s probably there now.”

  “How did you find that out?” Darla asked breathlessly. Her snow leopard was purring.

  “The chef slipped me a note. I… to be honest, I thought it might be an attempt to fix me up with him.”

  Darla laughed, and was surprised that it was a real laugh. “He knows about me and Breck,” she explained. “And Mother being constantly around makes it hard to slip me anything directly.”

  “There you have it,” Liam said with an answering laugh. “More peer pressure.”

  “I… I just don’t know if it’s right,” she said weakly, feeling what was left of her resistance crumble.

  “Oh, Darla,” Liam said, sounding as patient as ever. “You have spent your whole life trying to do what is right for other people. I think that taking three nights to do the right thing for you is fully justified.”

  Darla raised her gaze to his. “Three nights,” she said. “I have three nights left.”

  “Go make them count,” Liam advised. “I’ll put a sock on my doorknob per ridiculous custom and everyone will assume you are just being impatient and no one will question a thing.”

  Darla raised on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  They walked together to Liam’s cottage to keep up appearances, and then she was covering her bracelet and scampering through the darkness towards the manor building.

  Chapter 24

  Breck lay on his back in the middle of his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  He knew better than to think he was going to sleep that night, and had not even bothered to strip out of his clothing.