by T. S. Joyce
“Then why?”
“Because…” His frown deepened and then looked away. “Because…”
“Well, spill it!” Bre said. “This is like a soap opera.”
“It’s okay,” Ava assured him. “Everyone is the same. Everyone looks me up.”
Brock’s expression changed to something unreadable.
Good and mortified, Ava stood and grabbed her purse and coat from beside her chair. “Mrs. Ethyl, the most destructive thing my animal does is rootles around in the dirt. I might make a pothole. And if I accidentally Changed inside, I would probably just get bored and take a nap in a cupboard. My animal side is actually pretty pointless. Lodge 10 is safe. If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling tired. Dinner was delicious, ma’am. Best meal I’ve had in years. Thank you.” She nodded to Davis and Bre. “It was nice to meet you.”
And then with her dignity barely intact, she gave Roberto a little wave and made her way out of the dining room, careful not to look at Brock so he wouldn’t see how beet-red her cheeks were right now.
When she shoved the back door open, the frigid air stung her face as she marched toward Lodge 10.
“Everything’s okay, Little Dillo,” she said. “Tonight, it’ll be just us and Cornelius, and it doesn’t matter how people look at you. I still think you’re cute. And I’m sorry I called you pointless. That was awful.” She huffed out a steaming breath and wiped her cheeks because her eyes were leaking. She repeated softer, “That was awful.”
Awww, here we go—time for a breakdown. Her legs locked up, and she stood in the middle of the snowy pathway by the pretty gazebo, covering her stupid, crying face with her hands. Well, his grandma hated her so Brock was definitely never going to talk to her again. God, she was terrible at first impressions.
A roaring engine sounded and got louder by the second. She looked up just in time to see a monstrous old Bronco on giant tires with snow chains swerving around the side of the building and aiming straight for her. In the front seat was the man who was never supposed to talk to her again, and he skidded to a stop in front of her, passenger’s side door facing Ava. He shoved open the door. Leaning on the console, he said, “Get in, shifter.”
“No, thank you, Brock. I think I should just…”
“Just what? Be bored in Lodge 10? Come on. I’m going to miss the first of the game if you don’t come now.”
“I think you should go without—without—” She squeezed her eyes closed, and two more tears fell to her cheeks. Hanging her head, her breath hitched pathetically as she finished, “Without meeee.”
The sound of a slamming door echoed through the clearing, crunching snow, and then there was a very strong pair of arms around her. “Gran was wrong. I told her that, and I’ll talk to her more about it later.”
“You had to lecture your grandmother on my behalf, Brock. I don’t want to cause tension. I just wanted to come here and escape for a little while, and you said I was safe—”
“You are.”
With a sniff, she stubbornly angled her face to the side and shoved her sunglasses back on. But Brock yanked them off and chucked them into the snow right in front of one of his big-ass tires. “Put them on to hide again, and I’ll run them over.”
“You’re being ridiculous and rude.”
“Well, happy two days before UnValentine’s Day. Now hug me back.” He sounded grumpy.
Pouting out her lip, she slipped her arms around him and patted him firmly on the back.
“Like you mean it. Hugs don’t stop the tears unless you mean it.”
She bit back a smile. Silly man. “Fine,” she muttered.
As she hugged him tight, his back cracked and the air whooshed out of his lungs.
“Okay, that’s good,” he choked out.
She eased up on the shifter strength and hugged him like not-such-a-psychopath.
“Geez, woman, remind me not to piss you off. I didn’t realize armadillos were strong like that.”
“Oh, they’re not that strong. I’m just better than a human in every way.” Yes, she was joking and, yes, it sounded cocky, but he reacted well. He laughed. Good, he could tell when she was teasing.
“I’ll fix it with my gran,” he promised. “And look, after you left, Davis announced he is pro-shifter.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “And so am I, apparently. Tonight, let’s just have fun.”
She sniffled. “This is the nicest hug from a stranger I’ve ever had.”
She could feel his laugh reverberating through his strong chest. Geez, it was like hugging a statue. He was very fit.
“I’m surprised Bre didn’t ask to come to your game.”
With a snort, he said, “She did.”
Grrrrr. That’s the sound she wished she could make. She eased back and looked up at him. His eyes were bright with the snow reflecting in them. “What did you say?”
“That I was taking you on a date.” He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look. I know it’s not a date. I also saw your face when she was talking to me earlier, and I’m not putting up with y’all’s alpha female shit tonight. You’re queen. I let her know that. I’m not keeping you in an uncomfortable situation at my game. Now…crucial question.”
“Mmmm?” she asked over the buzzy feeling in her happy little head.
“Do you enjoy nachos?”
“With the queso cheese? Or melted shredded cheese?”
“Queso.”
“The answer was yes either way. We are still hugging.”
He looked down at the negative space between their squished torsos. “Oh. Right. Well, there’s nachos at the game, if you want to share one after.” He released her and gestured toward his rust and cream Bronco. “Your chariot.”
The man just offered to share nachos with her. Was he trying to make her obsessed with him? Batting her eyes at him a few times, she then made her way to the monster Bronco and plucked her sunglasses from beneath the tire, dusted off the snow, and climbed up into the lifted rig. It wasn’t easy, nor did she make it look pretty.
He laughed.
She ignored him.
Settling her purse in her lap, she told him, “I have no idea how you think I’m going to fit a single nacho inside of me when you just fed me four pounds of pot roast.”
He leaned into her open door and grinned at her with the most confident hot-boy smile she’d ever seen grace a man’s face. “It was really hot how you ate it all, though.”
“Oh, my gosh, Brock,” she muttered, jerking her attention forward as her cheeks lit on fire again.
He shut her door and jogged around the front of his truck with the biggest smirk on his face. Oh, that man liked flustering her.
Well, she, Ava Neveah Dennis, was unflusterable. If she repeated that to herself enough times, it would probably be true.
He climbed up into the driver’s side, threw the Bronco into gear, peeled out of the yard, jumped a curb on the other side of the big lodge, and swung onto the main road. It was icy out, but that didn’t make a single difference to the tank of a Bronco that Brock was maneuvering down the winding backroads.
Brock handed her the auxiliary cord of an upgraded stereo system. “Pick the music, but if you choose wrong, I’m judging you.”
“I know this is where a lot of girls probably squirm under your pressure and scrutiny,” she muttered, plugging in her phone. “But I’m not lots of girls, and if you don’t like my taste in music, no skin off my back. Here is the first song on the first playlist on my phone. Ready?”
“I’m ready for teeny bopper music.” He rested his arm over the steering wheel. “Aaaaand go.”
She hit play and watched his face for a reaction as the first notes of the guitar riff to “Enter Sandman” by Metallica came on.
“Ooooh myyyy God, yes!” he yelled at the roof of the car. He pointed to Ava. “Do the drum solo. Do it. I know you know it.”
With a laugh, she mimed the drums with the beat, and he clenched his fist and started singing at t
he top of his lungs through the biggest smile she’d ever seen. She joined in on the chorus, loud as hell, and they were cracking up by the end of the song. She took him down the road of her favorite songs until he pulled into the parking lot of a sports complex in the middle of town.
“Not gonna lie,” she admitted as they walked toward the building. “I’m surprised this town is big enough to support a sports complex.”
“Well, it used to be a community center, but that closed down, and now it’s just an open gym space where we can play sports during the snow season. Mostly kids play in here, but on Wednesdays, the whole day is sports for adults.” He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder and opened the door for her. “I got into the league because my buddies convinced me. It was an excuse for them to get out of their houses every Wednesday night and go out for a drink after.”
“If you aren’t married, or don’t have a girlfriend, then what’s in it for you?” she asked carefully.
He stomped snow off his sneakers and dragged the bottoms across a towel beside the door. “I don’t have a girlfriend and I’m definitely not married. For me, it’s love of the sport. I get to be competitive once a week. Blow off steam.”
“So you’re good then?”
“Oh, no. I mean I played when I was in school and stuff, but I’m not the big fish on our team.”
Oh. So he must’ve been a benchwarmer or something. Maybe played defense so he didn’t get as winded. Something like that.
He led her to the bleachers, but they were nearly full, so she sat on the very end of one. Brock pointed out where a small concession stand was against the back wall, and then jogged toward his team who was warming up at the goal closest to Ava.
She tracked him as he ran, thinking the man was very agile for a human, but her thoughts were interrupted by someone tapping her on the shoulder. “Are you here with Brock?” the woman right behind her asked.
Ava nodded. “I’ve never seen an indoor game. Just the outdoor ones.”
“Oh, you’re in for a treat then.” The friendly looking lady with gorgeous caramel-colored skin and dark eyes and braids leaned forward and offered her hand. “I’m Natalie. I’m with that one right there.” She pointed to the man taking a practice shot on goal. “His name is Reed. He’s good friends with Brock.”
“Okay, good, now I have two people to cheer for,” she said.
Natalie moved down to the bleacher beside her. “Your eyes are pretty bright.”
Uh oh.
“I’m not dangerous,” Ava said quickly.
Natalie winked and leaned in, whispered, “Reed says that, too.”
Shocked, Ava took a second look at the tall man, jogging back to the end of the line. His skin was darker than hers and his hair was longer but braided like Natalie’s. When he turned around, his eyes were a normal chocolate brown.
“He’s a shifter?” Ava whispered.
Natalie put her finger to her lips. “Not even Brock knows. No one in this town does.”
“Then…then why did you tell me? I’m a stranger.”
“If Brock brought you, you’re good. He’s picky about people, and besides. what are you gonna do? Announce it to the town? You probably hide just the same.”
Ava nodded. She did. That was kind of sad. She was sad for Reed, too.
“Cheetah,” Natalie said low.
“Daaaamn,” Ava murmured. “So fast AF, huh?”
“Yep. And the sports keep his animal happy. For the most part.”
“Yeah, you got a meat-eater. You probably have your hands full.”
Natalie snorted. “You have no idea. What about you? Meat-eater?”
Ava shook her head. “More like ant-eater. I’m the least scary shifter in existence. Everyone is safe around me.”
“Okay, so you have the best of both worlds.”
“What do you mean?”
Natalie cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Thata way, baby!” as Reed sunk another practice shot in the high corner of the goal. Softly, she said, “You can date humans or shifters. And you don’t have to hide as much when you date a human. Who can give you shit if you aren’t dangerous?”
Huh. She’d never looked at it like that. She’d always seen it as her animal’s existence kept her out of both worlds. Humans wouldn’t date her, and shifters were all badass predators who stuck up their noses at unterrifying critters like herself. But maybe it was like Natalie said. Maybe her armadillo made it possible to date either. She wouldn’t ever hurt Brock. She couldn’t if she tried, but Reed and Natalie?
Ava studied a trio of long scars down Natalie’s arm. She really did have her hands full with a cheetah shifter for a mate.
“He didn’t mean to. He Changed in the house and was tearing everything up. I rushed to let him out the front door, but he took a swipe as he was leaving. Happened eight years ago, and I don’t think he will ever forgive himself. Whatever you are?” Natalie bumped her shoulder. “You’re all right.”
Ava was dumbfounded. A human stranger had just shown her a kindness and told her she was all right. She liked Natalie. And Brock. And this town.
The referee blew the whistle, and Ava ripped her gaze away from Natalie, who was cheering. The game was starting. She searched the bench for Brock, but he wasn’t there. When she looked onto the field, which was really a big gym floor, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. If he wasn’t that good, why was he playing forward and why was he already maneuvering the ball toward the other team’s goal with a whole lot of fancy footwork that said he was really good at soccer?
Silly, modest boy.
For the next hour, she got to talk with Natalie, find her comfort zone, and cheer loudly, and eat nachos (because, apparently, she could always find room for those, no matter how full she was). She watched Brock beast out as a star forward with Reed. She was awed the entire game. And when he scored one of the three goals, he looked right up in the stands at her while his team was clapping him on the back and high-fiving him.
She was pretty sure she was glowing.
After the game, Ava and Natalie filed down the bleachers. Brock had a five-minute team meeting on the sidelines, and then he turned and jogged toward her, his duffle bag bouncing against his hip.
“Hey,” he rumbled in a tired voice. He held an arm out and pulled her against his side like she was an old friend, not some stranger he met this morning. And for her? She was just as comfortable for some reason.
Likely, she would overthink this all tonight, get breathless, and her anxiety would take over, but for now? She was completely comfortable saying yes when he asked if she wanted to go down the street to a local pub and get a beer with him and his friends for an after-game celebration. Natalie and Reed were going, too, and they walked out with them.
“This is Ava,” Brock introduced her as soon as they were outside, trailing behind the rest of the team.
Reed narrowed his eyes, and his nostrils flared as he scented the air. “Huh,” he said.
“Dude, manners,” Brock said.
“Ava is my new friend, so you have to like her,” Natalie informed him.
“What are you?” he asked as he shook her hand.
“She’s not a threat to you,” Brock said coolly. Ooooh ho hoooo, perhaps Brock knew more than Natalie thought he did. Maybe Brock did know Reed was a shifter, or why would he have said it like that?
Predator shifters were always standoffish when meeting another shifter, though. They were territorial, and Ava had a tendency to confuse them. Her scent was muffled and wasn’t of fur. She wore armor instead.
The other teammates were putting their bags in their cars, but Reed and Brock brought theirs along and started walking down the street toward a big glowing sign that read Frank’s Pub. Didn’t sound very Irish, but inside, it looked authentic enough, right down to the dark wood walls and floorboards, Irish drink list, and shepherd’s pies on special for happy hour.
Brock ordered her a beer, but he drank water, and as they settled in
around a trio of pool tables, she kind of took it all in. Brock introduced her to everyone. He didn’t seem ashamed by her in the least. On the contrary, he seemed proud to have her there, and it meant something to her. No one had ever acted like that about her before—proud.
And as the night wore on, and they played doubles against other teammates, couples, against Natalie and Reed, Brock loosened up even more and touched her hip sometimes when he talked to her, or leaned in close to hear her better. Once he moved a flyaway strand of her short hair from her face, and it all felt completely right and natural.
She liked him. She liked this place and his friends. She liked the way they all joked and teased each other. As the night went on, even Reed relaxed around her. She liked that Natalie stuck right near her and made sure she didn’t have to go to the bathroom alone. Everyone was so different in their personalities, but genuine.
She’d missed this small-town camaraderie. Or perhaps it was that she’d never fit into the small town she’d grown up in, and hadn’t adjusted to the small town she’d moved to. But here? Brock was making sure she was safe and comfortable with everyone. If anyone noticed her eye color, they didn’t mention it. Probably all the beers and chaos kept her safe from people paying too much attention to her.
Two hours later, and they were saying their goodbyes. Natalie scooped her up in a big hug that made Ava’s tipsy little heart happy.
“Tonight was a good night,” she said as Brock led the way out of the bar.
He reached back and grabbed her hand, led her around a trio of good ol’ boys throwing darts. His hand was warm and strong around hers, and she held on tighter.
He looked back, his blue eyes dancing, and did something that lifted the butterflies in her stomach. He intertwined their fingers and squeezed her back.
Oh, she was in trouble.
Brock opened the door for her, and out they went, connected at the palms. She bumped his shoulder. “I think we are breaking all the UnValentine’s Day rules.
“I thought you said you don’t like rules.”
“Touché.” It was snowing again, and she looked up and opened her mouth, caught a snowflake on her tongue.