by Chant, Zoe
Not only was he tall and handsome, he had the most magnificent presence that Tawny had ever witnessed. She knew exactly where he was, even when she was taking a cookie from Clara and he was talking to Stanley behind her.
Listening to Stanley was more accurate, of course. Price of tractors being a government conspiracy was his latest rant subject, and Tawny breathed a sigh of relief when Shaun finally took pity on his father and dragged him away to meet someone else.
“They have meatballs at the table,” Clara told her in conspiratory tones. “But Trevor doesn’t like the sauce.”
“I shall have to try it myself,” Tawny told her. She settled the paper crown and rose to her feet, glancing around automatically to find that Shaun’s father was talking with Gillian. The woman was playing with her jewelry and fluttering her eyelashes at him despite the fact that he was clearly twenty years older than she was ... and she was wearing a wedding ring.
Tawny smiled at her own flash of irrational jealousy. She was too old to be thinking wistfully of handsome men anyway.
Clara ran off to play a chase game with some of the other children and Tawny went to find her own food.
The potluck table groaned under the food that had been brought. Tawny recognized Marta’s ubiquitous noodle salad, Stanley’s grocery store vegetable tray, and Devon’s meatball crockpot. Shaun’s sweet rolls and cookies were already well picked over. She took up a paper plate and began to load it with tiny portions of everything—she wouldn’t want to insult anyone by not trying their offerings.
She felt his approach, like the pressure before a storm broke, even before Shaun caught her attention and said, “Tawny, this is my dad, Damien Powell.”
She turned and met Damien’s eyes.
Despite her best intentions, she could feel her cheeks heat, and the rush of desire in her belly was unexpected... and unwelcome.
“Dad, this is...”
Before Shaun could give her name, Damien was leaning forward and offering his hand. “The lady of the hour, of course. Let me add my congratulations.”
His eyes were the same silver as Shaun’s, but bottomless.
Tawny smiled helplessly. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, hoping her handshake wasn’t as weak as her knees felt. Everything seemed just a little surreal.
Then unexpectedly, he staggered forward into her as a toddler bounced off of him from behind. Tawny felt her loaded paper plate heave in her unprepared hand and she watched in slow motion as it dumped entirely over onto her chest.
She was frozen in horror and discomfort, cold salad and hot meatball sauce shocking through the thin material of her uniform blouse. Vegetables and cookies slid down her breasts and bounced off of her toes.
Before she could begin to process her embarrassment, Damien was turning to snarl at the tangle of children milling behind him. “Enough roughhousing!” he commanded, with enough force to silence the entire room.
Even though it was not directed at her, Tawny was not oblivious to the unnerving power behind his words, and she frowned as one of the children began to cry.
Damien seemed to realized his error at once. “Ah, don’t cry,” he said desperately, looming over the child. “It’s alright. You don’t have to... please just stop.”
The little girl, three-year-old Charlotte from the preschool Andrea taught at, only wailed more loudly.
Damien searched his pockets as if the answers might be there and withdrew a phone and a box of breathmints. “Do you want a Tic Tac?” he asked coaxingly.
Charlotte looked at him with widening eyes. She stopped crying, and instead shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Mommy, a strange man is giving me CANDY!”
“I’m not a strange man,” Damien tried to protest.
“It’s just Trevor’s grandpa!” Clara said helpfully.
“Stranger danger!” another child cried. “Stranger danger!”
Tawny could not stop herself from laughing at Damien’s helpless confusion as the children in the room erupted into chaos, some of them joining the stranger danger chant, some of them simply using the noise and pandemonium as an excuse to run around the room in excitement.
Harried parents tried futilely to contain them.
“I’m so sorry,” Damien said plaintively to Tawny as the children were slowly rounded up and gradually herded out; the party was clearly winding down. He cast his gaze down at her ruined shirt.
Still laughing, Tawny reached for a napkin, and daubed at the mess uselessly. “At least this was the last day I needed to wear my uniform,” she said forgivingly.
Her paper crown started to unseat at her activity, and Damien caught it and settled it more firmly on her curls, the touch strangely intimate. Tawny had to concentrate very hard on trying to get the meatball sauce from her blouse and remind herself that he was only being kind because he’d caused the accident.
“Oh, Tawny, let me get you a clean shirt,” Andrea offered.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Damien said promptly.
Andrea and Tawny both looked at him. Tawny had to remind herself not to drown in those silver eyes again. His perfectly groomed beard made his mouth challenging to read, but it gave Tawny something to concentrate on that didn’t make her knees weak; she wasn’t fond of facial hair. “You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I insist,” Damien said firmly.
That put Tawny’s back up immediately. “It’s not necessary,” she said tartly. “It’s just a shirt that I never planned to wear again. You’ve saved me the trouble of trying to keep it for sentimental reasons.”
“Then I’ll take you to dinner,” he growled. It wasn’t a request.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tawny retorted.
There was a moment of silence, and Andrea looked back and forth between them suspiciously.
“I’ll take you up on that shirt, Andrea,” Tawny finally said, when she could drag her eyes away from Damien’s fascinating face.
“I will drive you home,” Damien said, as if he was making a great concession.
“Thank you for the offer,” Tawny said, shaking her head and unseating her paper crown again. She took it off and set it on the table. “But I need to return the mail truck, and I am perfectly capable of walking home. Andrea?”
With great effort, she turned on her heel and left the room, keenly aware of her trembling hands.
Chapter 4
Damien was not used to being turned down, or to having people turn their backs to him. As lovely as Tawny’s backside undeniably was, he didn’t appreciate the novelty of it.
Andrea shot him one suspicious look and followed Tawny, presumably to find her a clean shirt.
Damien picked up the paper crown that Tawny had abandoned and turned it in his hands. One of the children had decorated it with enthusiastic crayon and Tawny’s name (he guessed), spelled T-A-N-E-E.
The guests were gone by now; even Stanley had been dragged out by a woman in salt and pepper braids, muttering about conspiracies and price fixing.
“Well, Dad,” Shaun said, once he’d finished picking up the fallen food and spot-treated the rug. “That was certainly interesting.”
“Tell me more about her,” Damien said.
Shaun stared at him. “About Tawny?”
Damien scowled at him. “Yes, about Tawny. Where does she live? Does she have family here? What is her perfume? What kind of car does she drive?”
“She doesn’t have a car,” Shaun said automatically. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“She wouldn’t agree to dinner,” Damien said with a frown. “What other evening entertainment do you have here? Theater? Symphonies? Dancing?”
“Evening entertainment? This is Green Valley, Dad. You have to drive 75 miles to find anything resembling culture. The closest thing we have to dancing is the country bar at the end of town. There isn’t even a movie theater here.”
This was proving more complicated than Damien had hoped.
“What’s going on?” Shaun de
manded suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
“She’s my mate.” Damien saw no reason to hide the fact or act coy about it. She would be his soon enough.
Andrea, just coming down the stairs then, gave a cackle of glee as Shaun stared at Damien in shock. “I guessed as much!” she said in delight. “Oh, poor Tawny. She doesn’t even know what hit her.”
“Poor Tawny?” Damien repeated. He realized then that the sound he was hearing was the mail truck pulling away from the curb. His mate was leaving and he ground his teeth in frustration.
Ignoring him, Shaun was shaking his head. “This is going to be the most awkward courtship in the history of shifters.”
“I want to witness every moment of it,” Andrea said with wicked delight. “Let’s have her over to dinner.”
Scowling, Damien reminded her, “She refused dinner.”
“It will be different if I invite her,” Andrea assured him. “I’m not terrifying like you are.”
“I’m not terrifying!” Damien protested, only aware that he was glaring at her in a manner that might have been intimidating after the words left his mouth.
“You made a little girl cry just ten minutes ago,” Shaun reminded him.
“Does she know about shifters?” Damien asked, trying to regain some control of the conversation. “And mates?”
Shaun and Andrea exchanged looks. “I don’t think so,” Andrea said. “I mean, in Green Valley you never know, but she’s never said anything to me that made me think she knew.”
“I would have guessed not,” Shaun added. “But I haven’t known her long.”
Damien frowned thoughtfully. “I will allow you to arrange a dinner,” he agreed.
Andrea gave him an amused smirk. “How gracious of you,” she teased him. “Shaun, will you make a casserole? Something classy. How about a tater tot hotdish?”
Damien tried not to wince at the idea of it.
Trevor came careening into the room just then, his new toy still clutched in one hand. “I’m huuuuungry.”
“You just ate two plates of potluck,” Andrea reminded him. “Where do you put it, child?”
Trevor poked over the plates of food left on the table. “I’m a hungry, hungry lion,” he said, snagging a cookie and the last piece of fudge.
The adults in the room all stilled, looking at him suspiciously.
The year before, Trevor had shifted twice into a young lion in moments of stress, but he seemed to have no memory of the events, and hadn’t repeated the act once Shaun and Andrea had married and his life developed stability. They all hoped he would wait a little longer to manifest his shifter abilities in earnest; he was only six, and six was complicated enough without adding claws and teeth.
Trevor, stuffing his mouth full, turned at their scrutiny. “What?” he asked around his chocolate.
“Don’t fill up before dinner,” Shaun said gruffly, turning away to start clearing the leftovers left on the table.
Andrea slipped Trevor another cookie behind his back with a wink.
“I’ll arrange something with Tawny,” she promised Damien. “I’m so delighted for you.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his bearded cheek and added quietly. “And you had better be nice to her, or half of Green Valley will come after you with pitchforks.”
Damien scowled at her, dismayed by the idea that she thought he would be anything less than absolutely a perfect gentleman. “I assure you, I will court her in the manner she deserves.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Andrea said with a sigh.
Chapter 5
It was Tawny’s first day of retirement. She hadn’t remembered to turn off the alarm, but she was awake long before it rang, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Shaun’s father.
Damien.
With his silvery eyes and those broad shoulders, and that deep, gruff voice that made her knees feel like jelly.
It had been a long, long time since she’d last been so affected by a handsome face and a flattering offer.
She should have let him take her to dinner, or at least drive her home.
Not for the first time, she cursed herself for being so damned independent. If she were just a little a more accommodating, if she could just be a little less stubborn, she probably wouldn’t be a spinster, living alone in the tiny house she’d grown up in, wondering when life had passed her by.
There was a thump at the foot of the bed, and a familiar weight stomped up to stare at her from across her pillow.
“Good morning, Prints,” Tawny said, and she reached out and pulled the black cat swiftly in for a quick cuddle. Prints was as fiercely independent as Tawny, and she tolerated only a moment of Tawny’s embrace before she squirmed free with a yowl of protest.
Lady Gray, on the other side of Tawny, was grooming herself noisily, but she stopped when Tawny sat up, and both cats watched her avidly.
“I suppose you to think that the breakfast schedule shouldn’t change, just because the day job is done.”
Unblinking cat eyes were her only answer.
Then Tawny started to throw off the blankets, and the cats erupted into swirling chaos of pleading meows, leaping to the floor and showing her how to get out of the bedroom as if she might have forgotten overnight.
Tawny fed them and began her morning routine, nearly putting on a uniform out of habit. Instead, she chose a soft t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans. She fingered the stained shirt that she hadn’t quite been able to throw away at Andrea’s house, remembering all over again the smoldering look in Damien’s eyes, moments before he had thrown a meal at her shirt.
Surely she’d imagined it, that look of avid interest, of hunger.
That wasn’t how people looked at her.
Especially not gorgeous men wearing clothes that would have paid her bills for three months.
The sated cats chose spots on the back of the couch to groom and digest in the sunlight starting to stream in, and for a moment Tawny was tempted to join them with one of the many books in her leaning pile of books to read.
At the last moment, her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t really had dinner last night, too flustered from her unsettling meeting with Shaun’s father.
“I’m going to treat myself to breakfast out,” she told the cats.
They ignored her. Tawny sighed and slipped on her shoes.
Gran’s Grits was the best diner in town, in no small part due to the lack of competition.
It was a small white building, with a little porch up to a well-lit room with a handful of booths and an attempt at 50s decor that would have been more appealing if it had not actually been from the 50s. Gran, a tiny old lady with piercing eyes, had run the diner as long as anyone could remember, and was generally agreed to be the grumpiest person in town. She had gradually passed the day-to-day business of the diner to Old George, who wasn’t particularly old, but carried on her tradition of grouchiness and never said a word he didn’t have to. Gran’s elderly, tiger-striped cat lived at the diner and slept in the front window most days.
Tawny slipped into one of the creaking booths and looked up in surprise to find Andrea handing her one of the plastic laminated menus.
“Andrea,” she squeaked. “I didn’t realize you were working here still.”
Had she made a complete ham of herself the afternoon before? She remembered being mesmerized by Damien’s silver gaze, but didn’t remember much of what she’d said herself, besides proudly refusing his offers-that-didn’t-sound-like-offers. She suspected there had been long moments of staring with inappropriate lustfulness. Had her weak-kneed attraction been as apparent to everyone else as it had been to her?
“Gran needed an extra hand,” Andrea said offhandedly. “Writing is a flexible job, so I was able to come help out for a bit.”
Tawny had a brief moment of relief, then Andrea grinned and slipped into the booth across from her.
“So how do you like Shaun’s dad?”
“He’s fine,” Tawn
y said, trying to sound casual.
“Isn’t he, though?” Andrea agreed.
“That’s not what I meant,” Tawny protested.
“He likes you,” Andrea said teasingly.
“Oh, he doesn’t,” Tawny said desperately. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s true,” Andrea insisted. “He was very disappointed that you wouldn’t let him buy you a shirt, or dinner, or even drive you home.”
“He didn’t need to do any of those things,” Tawny said firmly.
“He’s going to insist on doing something,” Andrea said warningly.
“It was just an accident,” Tawny insisted. “He doesn’t need to do anything.”
Andrea gave a knowing smirk. “It’s not just about ruining your shirt,” she assured Tawny. “He insists on things. And he likes you!”
“I’d like a cup of coffee,” Tawny said desperately. “And I was thinking about an omelet.”
“The sausage omelet is really good,” Andrea said, her voice so suggestive that Tawny blushed scarlet. “Cream for your coffee?”
“Yes,” Tawny squeaked.
Andrea flashed her one last grin and finally slid out of the booth.
Tawny put her head in her hands. It was entirely unfair for Andrea to be making her blush. She’d changed the girl’s diapers when she was a baby.
“Shaun and I want you to come over for dinner this week,” Andrea said, when she brought the coffee and took Tawny’s order for a vegetarian omelet. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
Tawny looked suspiciously at Andrea. “You and Shaun?” she confirmed.
“Well, of course Trevor lives there too,” Andrea said, looking completely innocent. “And Shaun’s dad may still be in town.”
The idea of seeing him again, of attempting to eat food in front of him and not just wear it... Tawny felt her breath catch and she tried to make herself calm down. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope,” Andrea said cheerfully.
Tawny tried to be pragmatic about it. She should just go to dinner, to dispel the ridiculous image she’d built up in her mind. Damien Powell could not possibly be as handsome and broad-shouldered as she remembered him, and there was no chance he was really interested in her. At worst it would be a short, awkward meal and he would feel like any debt was paid and Tawny could go back to the quiet retirement she’d planned out.