by J. K Harper
"Do so, and I'm right. Come on, man, don't you get it?" Cortez stopped laughing, looking at Beckett more seriously now.
"What?" Beckett snapped.
Patiently, as if outlining something to a child, Cortez said with slow enunciation, "She's a dragon shifter, Beckett. A dragon."
Beckett just glared at him, shaking his head in a “get to the damned point” way. Cortez threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "Look. Your big issue is that your bear is a grumpy old sourpuss who likes to rage and snarl around half the time. You have real trouble controlling it.”
“Yeah?” Beckett snapped. “What's your fucking point, Freud?”
“Beckett.” Cortez huffed out a sigh. “Are you that blind? Who better to help you control your bear than a goddamned dragon shifter?"
Beckett blinked. His bear abruptly stopped rumbling, seeming as stupefied as Beckett felt. “A dragon shifter,” he repeated dumbly, as if he'd just thought about it.
“Yeah, top of the predator heap?” Cortez lifted his hand way up in the air as if to show how high up there they were. “Biggest, baddest creatures out there? Even if they do worship gold and useless shit like that.”
“A dragon shifter,” Beckett repeated again. Cortez shook his head in despair, waiting for Becket to come to his senses.
It didn't take long.
“She's a dragon shifter. Holy shit." Beckett blinked as the simple truth of that hit him. Well, hell. He was the one being an asshole. Not Pix. Definitely not cute, sassy, strong, badass dragon shifter Pix.
"Holy shit, man," Cortez agreed, sounding somewhat cheerful again. He leaned forward, socked Beckett in the arm, and started to walk away. "Don't waste your chance," he called her over his shoulder. "Unless you just want to live with your grumpy-ass bear for the rest your life."
But Beckett had already turned on his heel to stride back toward the grocery store. Cortez must've turned his head to look back at him. He called out, "What, is your brain so addled you forgot some groceries?"
Beckett shook his head, yelling over his shoulder, "I figure I better buy some flowers since I have to go see her and tell her I’m sorry for being an asshole."
Cortez's laughter rang behind him as Beckett charged back into the store, feeling oddly different. Lighter.
It took him until he had paid for his purchase and gotten back to his truck, sunglasses now shoved on top of his head, to realize what it was: he felt a lot less like his bear was about to burst out from him in an uncontrolled frenzy, and a lot more like his bear was quiet and content beneath his skin.
His bear kept rumbling a word at him that seemed crazy but certain. Mate. Ah, holy shit. Just the thought of the word had his entire body leaping with a crazy lightness he’d never before felt.
He wanted to be with Pix more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. He was going to find her, tell her he was sorry, and hold onto her. Maybe even forever, the thought lingered in his head as he roared his truck out of the parking lot to go get his sexy, badass Pix.
His sexy, badass mate.
9
Pix stared at her website, feeling flat even as she should be really excited. "I sold another painting," she called out to Haley, who was in the kitchen. "That really big one they told me to put a higher price tag on. You were right. Raise the prices and suddenly people want to buy."
Haley squealed with delight. A few seconds later she appeared in the doorway to the living room, two steaming mugs held in her hands. "Awesome! You needed to find a way to really support yourself on your own, and in style. I bet your dragon is happy. Come join me in the sunroom and we'll talk about the rest of your life over coffee.”
Pix gave her friend a half smile as she stood up to join her. The sunny little nook, situated on the south side of the house, was one of the many perks of this beautiful housesitting gig Haley had managed to snag. She accepted a hot mug with a murmured thanks and settled into one of the cushioned wicker chairs. Haley eyeballed her thoughtfully. "You're not as happy about this as you should be. It's good news, after what that jerk did to you last night."
Reflexively, Pix murmured, "It wasn't his fault, I told you. It's my fault. I wasn't honest enough with him, and he didn't like that."
Haley shook her head, a strand of her messy blonde hair slipping out of the makeshift bun she'd shoved it into this morning. "You don't like that part of your life. It reminds you of the past, and that past is over. It wasn't any of his business what you chose to tell him or not tell him about yourself. Besides, it's not like he needed to know every last detail about you just for a casual hook up. Right?" She gave Pix a shrewd gaze while innocently sipping her coffee.
Pix felt the heat coiling and burning inside her. That was her own out-of-control beast, just like Beckett had referred to his bear. There was a reason she didn't share that part of herself with most shifters. Once she'd renounced her formal dragon shifter ties, knowing she'd simply never fit into that world, she tried to live her life in a way that meant others had to take her at face value. Not because of her family name or that she was at the top of the shifter heap, being a dragon. "Yeah, but even so, when I asked him point-blank if he was a bear shifter, he told me. And I never mentioned my dragon to him. That wasn't right,” she said softly.
Pix sipped her coffee in silence, looking out at the lovely view of the Walkers' backyard. The more time she spent in Deep Hollow, the more she liked it. But in a town full of shifters, she'd really made a huge misstep by not telling Beckett what she was. He'd been right to stalk off in a rage.
It wasn't like her to feel as undecided and unhappy as she felt right now. Ever since she had cut ties with the expected route for a dragon shifter, even though she stayed close with her own family, particularly her mother, she'd felt a sense of freedom as she forged her own path in life. There had been hard times as she tried to make a living for herself, no longer able to exist in the lap of her family’s monied luxury. It had been eye-opening to say the least. But she liked her life much better this way. It felt real. True to herself.
A snap of hot lightning forked along her veins. She grimaced. She wasn't always true to her dragon soul. Her dragon had gotten more and more unpredictable, until Pix finally realized she needed to leave Boston and get away from all the dragons in that big city. It also meant she couldn't land in another big city, since dragon shifters preferred the high life generally afforded to them by the large companies they tended to own, which usually had to be run from large urban areas. It was a good thing dragon flight was invisible to human eyes. Because Pix always loved flying as her dragon.
Her dragon screamed, sending fire flipping along Pix's veins.
Deliberately, she switched the subject. “What are you doing today?”
Haley brightened. "I'll be out most of the day with Cortez." Her smile got dreamy as she said the name of the guy making her smile and laugh so much lately.
Pix gave a genuine smile back to her friend. “I'm glad to hear that. Say, do you know—"
The chime of the doorbell, followed by loud, gruff knocking, cut her off short. Haley bounced up, eyes sparkling. “He's early!” she said as she hurried to the front door.
But when she came back to the sunroom two minutes later, face wary and protective, it wasn't Cortez who was following her. Beckett filled the space of the doorway.
"Hey, Pix," he said in a low voice. He shifted from one foot to the other. “Look." He cut a quick glance at Haley before turning back to Pix. “I suck at this kind of thing, so I'm just gonna say it straight out. I didn't give you a chance to explain last night why you waited to tell me about your dragon. But it wasn't my call. It wasn't for me to tell you what to do, or when to tell me. Your story is your story. I had no right to expect you to tell me everything at once. Or even ever, if you don't want to. But I hope you do.” His eyes were bright with his bear when he added that. “So I was an ass. I'm sorry. I still really like you. Here," he added, thrusting out a bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper tied with a pretty ribbon. "I br
ought you flowers. Girls like flowers."
Something happy sparkled through Pix at every single word he said. “Not all girls like flowers, you know,” she couldn't help teasing him. Then she looked closely at the bouquet and drew in a sharp breath. Silvery purple roses, festooned with pretty little white daisies. “Oh, Beckett, they're really beautiful. Thank you,” she added with soft sincerity. "I'm sorry, too," she began to say, but he cut her off.
"You don't have to explain right now. I'd rather hear it when we're alone anyway." He looked again at Haley, who was surveying the scene with the air of a mother hen ready to peck his eyes out if she needed to.
Pix said to Haley, "It's all right. We’re good now." She looked at Beckett again, letting a smile sweep over her face. It was more than good. Being in his presence lit her up like that tree last night.
A smile nudged the corners of his mouth. "Okay. You can tell me anything or nothing you want over dinner. Tonight. My place. If you still want to come over." He looked at her steadily as he said all that. Once again giving her the choice, even though he pretty damn clearly wanted her to say yes.
She jumped on the chance to lighten the moment. “You're telling me you know how to cook? A backwoods bachelor bear?" She infused as much skepticism into her voice as she could.
It worked. His mouth relaxed even more. “Hell, yeah, I can cook. Six o'clock okay for you?"
Before Pix could speak, Haley jumped in. "She'll be there. Since it seems like she doesn't want me to kill you, I guess that means she'll give you another chance. And,” Haley cast a quick smile at Pix, “sounds like you'll give her another chance, too. Pix is awesome, and you probably don’t deserve her, but I guess you’re lucking out."
Beckett nodded, still looking at Pix. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure you are damned awesome, Pix. So dinner, and the entire night is still on the table. If we both want that."
Pix finally let a bigger smile flood over her face as her dragon fluttered around inside her, stretching her wings out, blasting heat throughout Pix's body. "Yes. It's probably still on the table," she managed to answer in a steady voice.
The look in Beckett’s eyes made her go weak in the knees. “Then I'll see you tonight, badass Pix. I’ll text you the directions.”
“Okay. It’s a date, badass bear,” she said in a suddenly breathless voice, her entire body feeling deliriously light with happiness. “I’ll see you tonight.”
10
As soon as Beckett's "little cabin" in the woods came into view, Pix's mouth fell open. Wow. She'd literally expected a little cabin, maybe even somewhat ramshackle, all rough-hewn and man-caved out. This was anything but ramshackle. It was so beautifully made it looked like it easily would stand for another two hundred years. And it was a lot bigger than she'd thought it would be. It was the size of a regular house, nicer than a cabin. She could tell every inch of it had been lovingly crafted. By hand, apparently. She knew from the carved toys that Beckett was good with his hands.
That thought made her blush, then giggle at herself. She felt nervous but excited and calm at the same time. Stepping out of her car, she grabbed the bottle that rolled around in the little brown bag on the passenger seat. She'd been raised to believe that it was polite to bring something to someone's house when invited to dinner, and it was a part of her background that she couldn't shake. The bottle held golden whiskey.
She walked up a driveway that was clear of snow, despite the piles of it lining both sides. Spying a snow shovel leaning up on the side of the stairs going up to the front door, she suddenly imagined Beckett's strong arms working hard as he scooped the snow off his driveway. He probably did it while stripped to the waist, muscles flexing beneath his skin. Picturing Beckett naked from the waist up did something really delightful inside her. Whoa there, she thought to herself. Dinner first.
As she headed up the wide sweep of wooden stairs she brushed her hand over smooth, solid rails on the side. When she saw his huge front door, she laughed. The door knocker was a massive grizzly head, mouth open wide in a snarl. It was like he enjoyed having his angry bear greet the world. Well, she thought as she firmly rapped it several times, let's see what he does when he faces a dragon that's gonna be a lot bigger than he probably thinks it is.
About three seconds after she knocked, Beckett opened the door. He must have heard her pull up. Bear shifters had excellent hearing. She was taken for a breathless moment by the way his eyes drank her in, then burst out with more laughter when she saw the apron he wore over his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. I'm the Chef. If You Don't Like the Food, I’ll Bite Your Face Off.
She instantly felt even more at ease. His sense of humor matched hers. “Do you wear that every time you open the door when you invite someone over for dinner?”
"The only people I ever have over for dinner are already my friends. They know I'm an asshole, but they also know I'm good at slaving over a hot stove.” He grinned at her. Seeing that sexy grin, knowing how few got to see it and letting it remind her of all the fun they'd had yesterday, relaxed her even more. “Come in, Pix." His voice deepened as he ran his eyes down to her toes and back up to her face again. "Damn. You look really good."
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Giving him a flirtatious wink, she pushed past his huge, yummy-smelling bulk standing in the doorway. She’d decided to dress up. She wore a little black dress, slinging a form-fitting dark gray jacket over it that cinched nicely at the waist and emphasized her figure. She'd even styled her hair a little bit, brushed a hint of mascara onto her lashes and dabbed some color on her lips. It felt really good that he noticed the effort she'd put in.
As soon as she stepped all the way inside his house, though, his reaction to her appearance was completely forgotten. She stood riveted in the tiny entryway that opened up to a spacious, incredible living room. "Whoa, Beckett. This place is amazing.” She blinked as she looked around his home, shrugging off her coat so he could take it and hang it up on a carved wooden coat rack by the front door. A coat rack he’d probably made himself too.
He closed the door behind them. “Yeah. It's still my man cave, though."
Pix spluttered, still looking around in appreciation of the place. "Man cave? Then it's the most beautiful, upscale man cave I've ever seen."
“You been in a lot of man caves?” His voice suddenly sounded possessive. He moved past her back into the open kitchen to stir the incredible-smelling something bubbling in a huge silver pot on the stove, letting a hand slide over her waist as he passed. Warmth flushed up through her.
“Nothing ever in my life like this,” she assured him. Sure, she’d grown up in enormous privilege, but this place was built by hand. To her, that meant it surpassed any house she’d ever see before.The floor plan was open, the smooth, shining cherry wood of the floors seeming to extend for miles. The kitchen, which flowed into the living room without walls to separate it, featured an enormous stainless steel island, behind which stood an industrial-sized stainless steel stove and a stainless steel refrigerator so big it probably could hold enough food to feed Beckett and about a hundred of his closest friends. His popular, pricey carved toys obviously had meant he could splurge on this place, and he clearly had. The ceiling angled upward in an airy slice, making the place feel even bigger. She saw a faint glow coming from around a corner.
“Fireplace,” Beckett said, seeing the direction of her gaze. “It's in the sitting room.”
“The sitting room?” She looked at him, the gruff, tough bear shifter, then swung her head back toward his so-called sitting room. “What, do you receive your royal guests in there and offer them crumpets with their tea?”
He barked out a laugh, followed by another. The ease of it made her laugh, too, as she glanced back at him again. “Yep, the queen sits in my big leather easy chair and we exchange palace decorating tips.” Without missing a beat he added, “That's another thing I like about you, Pix. You're funny. I've laughed more times around you in the past few days than I usually do all year.” He h
eaded over to the kitchen island, where a salad sat in a large bowl made up of large criss-crossing stripes of different-colored wood.
She shook her head, watching as he casually chopped, added, stirred things. “People just don't know you, do they? You're the funny one. And you seem to laugh a lot.”
“Only because you've been bringing it out in me,” he said simply. The look he gave her was charged with something that made her shiver in anticipation, though the half smile lingered on his face. Then he turned back around to the stovetop and clanged a spoon against the pot.
Pix sniffed appreciatively. “What did you make for dinner? I'm pretty hungry.” On cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. She snickered at herself.
The sound was echoed by Beckett's deep laughter. "It's just spaghetti. But the sauce is a secret recipe I came up with myself. That'll soothe the hungry beast in your stomach."
She snorted another laugh, then licked her lips. "I haven't even tasted it yet and I already think you should open a restaurant. Oh, I also brought a bottle of whiskey. You look like a whiskey drinker." She crooked an eyebrow at him.
Beckett eyes lit up. "I think I like you more and more every minute." Something quietly deep and true sounded under his words. A brief silence lasted for a long moment, during which Pix felt her heart bang hard inside her chest and her nerves twitch with liquid fire. The word Mate once again whispered through her veins, her self, her soul. She was too nervous to bring it up out loud yet, but something in his gaze told her he’d been having the same thought.
He broke the silence by saying, "You're actually perfectly on time. It's ready to serve right now. Hand me the bottle. I'll pour us drinks to have with dinner. You," he pointed at her, “just go sit. There,” and now he pointed at a chair pulled out slightly from a set place at the casual but highly polished farmhouse table in the middle of the open space between the kitchen island and the living room.