The brownie sniffed in irritation. “It’s Martha Stewart, you cretin. But yes, the goddess of home domestication has created an even more perfect set of pots and pans that I simply have to have.”
“Then buy them, I don’t care, but please stop the drama brownie routine every time your favorite television characters come out with something new.” The last line came out more a plea than a demand, but even Calder could read the sincerity and affection between the two.
“I’m off to the market then.” The brownie clapped his hands and raced away, out of sight.
“Should have waited until after he got us settled down before offering up the latest in cooking magic from the magnificent Martha.” Roark waved a hand to the living room. “Come on, let’s see what the useless lazy creature can conjure for you to eat.”
Had she landed in some alternate world? Because nothing she’d seen, sniffed or felt since coming to this house fell within her realm of normal. “Seriously, am I on some Irish version of Punk’d?”
“What? No, of course not. Come on, we’ll get tea and see if Nob was in a cooking or baking kind of mood today.” Without giving her a chance to speak, much less refuse, Roark grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him.
What the hell, she thought. Why fight insanity when it was much easier to humor the loony patients. Besides, her cat urged her to explore and a free meal sounded better than the cold cereal waiting at home for her.
The winding dark hallway glowed softly with wall sconces adding to the romantic ambiance rather than detracting from it, and for a second Calder almost tasted fear in her throat.
But that was ridiculous, right? Female lion shifters feared nothing. They were the queens of any forest they entered. Just because a male entered her jungle, a man with a human scent but with hidden powers, she shouldn’t freak out? Right?
“Come now, I don’t bite, but you could talk me into letting you have a nibble or two.” The grin he shot her sent heat spiraling straight between her thighs and her cat into a frenzy of lust. Stupid hussy, she mentally smacked the cat back. Having sex with a stranger she’d never see again was one thing, but inviting her mate to have sex without knowing what species he was… Well, she wasn’t that kind of cat.
“You’re pretty cocky for a man alone with a lion shifter,” she replied instead of answering his sexual taunt. He’d find out soon enough all cats liked to play with their prey.
“Darlin’, I’m not blind nor have the rest of my senses shut down, so to say I’m aware of every inch of you,” he sniffed the air much like a predator, “is delicious and very very tempting. It’s not vanity to acknowledge the truth.”
Enough was enough. Calder planted her feet on the hardwood floor and yanked her hand from his secure hold. Hands fisted on her hips, she demanded to know the truth. “What the hell are you?”
His tanned hand covered his heart while a wounded expression crossed his face. “Oh sweetheart, you wound me, really you do.” He batted those insanely long black lashes at her while assuming an innocent expression. “I’m simply a male admiring a beautiful woman, inviting her to share my humble cottage over a simple dinner.”
“Does anyone ever buy your bullshit?”
“Frequently,” he admitted with a cocky grin, causing those freakishly bright green eyes to glow in the low light. “So now that we both know where we stand, let’s eat then you can tell me how incredible you think I am.”
“You’ve been on experimental medication, haven’t you?” Something outside nature had to cause this overdose of ego. Most males she knew, shifter or others, were proud, but tried to at least pretend to be subtle. Not so with Roark. If someone didn’t know how amazing he was the man would be more than happy to tell them, she thought with an inner smirk.
“Now why would you ask that? I’m high on life, darlin’. Something I think you could learn a wee bit about.” The ego monster pulled her hand from her hip, twined their fingers together and continued their journey down the hall.
“Now if you can keep your hands off me long enough to eat dinner, I promise you won’t regret it. Nob is an amazing chef even if he is a bit on the pigheaded side.” The smells reaching her sensitive nose had her brain agreeing.
The kitchen he led her into was the size of her cottage if not bigger, filled with flowers and delicious smells that had her stomach rumbling in appreciation. “Considering your ego is larger than most shifters I know, you have to be paying the poor man a fortune to put up with you.”
“Nob’s a house brownie. There’s no paying them, but then again you have to give them free rein in all your houses. They do what they want, how they want to and have total control of who stays or goes in their home. Pretty much like being married, but without the sex.”
“Is everything fodder for jokes to you?” Hanging around this guy was like babysitting a six-year-old hyped on sugar.
“Darlin’, when you live as long as I have you learn to either take the world with a healthy dose of laughter or start on the meds to try and keep your sanity. I prefer to live life Prozac-free. Besides, human meds don’t work so well on my kind.”
“What is your kind? You seem to know a whole lot about shifters yet you’re remarkably quiet on what you are.” She watched, back to the wall, while he pulled out everything for their dinner. A large glass dish of lasagna, full bowl of salad and from the oven, a steaming loaf of soda bread complete with butter and garlic, and again her stomach made its presence known by letting out a loud and demanding grumble.
Far from feeling embarrassed, Calder shot her eyebrow up and cocked her hands on her hips. “So instead of answering my questions you’re going to what, ply me with food and hope to score?” Her inner hussy purred in agreement at the idea of getting this handsome but cagey man anywhere near a bed, preferably naked.
“Don’t forget the wine. A proper seduction always involves good wine and possibly mood music.” He held out a chair and gently pushed it in when she reluctantly sat.
“I think I’ll pass on the illustrious Barry White. Feed me, no problem, but I draw the line at cheesy seduction moves from the seventies. So now that we’ve tossed sex out of the evening’s entertainment why don’t you try explaining your rather unusual existence?” The man might be a child stuck in a demi-god’s body, but he certainly knew how to play word games with the best of them.
So many things shocked her this evening, only the latest being the house brownie apparently in charge of the care and feeding of Roark. Everything Calder ever heard about brownies said they were vain, difficult and worth every headache to have. They cooked like Parisian-trained chefs, cleaned better than Martha Stewart on crack and kicked ass in home security. No one, but no one messed with the home of a brownie. Anything else she knew was strictly rumors and myths since house brownies were never seen in the shifter community. Shifters were too low class and barbaric for their delicate sensibilities.
“You’ll miss out on so many things if you don’t embrace the cheesy in life. I, for one, tend to look for it. Makes my life interesting and entertaining. And what is life without entertainment, I ask you?” He took a seat next to her, so close their legs rubbed with each movement.
“Roark, I’m a lion shifter. By nature my breed is all about the selfish, me-me-me mindset. However, you beat any vain lion or tiger I’ve ever met in the ego department.” A large slab of noodles, meat and sauce landed on her plate and she almost whimpered with pleasure. At least the male was smart enough to know female shifters were no dainty flowers and could eat as much as any male thanks to their special metabolism.
“Eat, then you can flay me alive with your vicious feline tongue. Remember brownies get very angry when their meals go unappreciated.” He winked and dug into his own meal with flawless table manners that just made her want to smack him.
Because, hello, she still didn’t know who or what he was, and the way the evening was going something told her she might have to work harder than normal to dig out this man’s secrets.
/> “You’re here on holiday, yes?”
She lifted her gaze from the divine food and merely grunted in response. Did he really expect her to stop shoveling such amazing, mouthwatering food in her mouth just to talk to him? Silly man!
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m here on a little holiday as well. Some friends recommended Limerick for its historic scenery and local flavor. I have a sneaky suspicion you might be the local flavor. Though why I had to fly across an ocean when I could have driven South to find you I have no idea. Of course I hadn’t been in the US that long so maybe Fate’s having her way after all.” He took a sip of wine, those unnatural green eyes staring right at her, no hint of the usual humor lurking there. “Then again I think Nob needed the break too. Plus, there’s something magical about the air in Ireland. Leads a man toward more mystical thinking.”
Whatever, she mentally mumbled, not in the mood to deal with Roark’s hoo-doo talk. Calder dropped her gaze and focused solely on the ambrosia on the plate. Could she sweet-talk, bribe or sexually convince the brownie to make the move to Baton Rouge? Surely with the lure of Southern cooking she could tempt the little god of the kitchen.
Swallowing a mouthful of clear, cold, perfect water Calder looked curiously at her host. “What will it take to woo Nob away from you?”
One black brow arched in patent disbelief. “You want my Nob?”
Calder swallowed back a snicker of laughter. “I don’t want your knob. I want a chance to take your house brownie home with me. Let me see if I can bribe him with a new house, Southern cooking, hell, I’ll toss in sex if it works.”
Roark’s handsome face flushed red as he stared at her, his mouth moving but no words coming out for several seconds. “You’re serious?”
“Um, yes, I haven’t eaten this well since Bougard’s was shut down by the health department. Though why shut down a perfectly good place to eat because of a few raccoons and opossums I have no idea. The animals were there first. Damn, I miss his crawfish gumbo.”
“You are the strangest woman I’ve ever met.” A way too happy smile curved his sensual lips. “But if you’re willing to put out for a chance at Nob, I’ll be happy to help you. Just be gentle with me, I’m fragile.”
“Ughh,” was all she could say. Then the smell of the food lured her back into Italian heaven. “If you could do it… sleeping with you might actually be worth the sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice? I’ll have you know women all over the world would sell their children and pets for the gift of gracing my boudoir.”
“Seriously, can you be more vain?”
He gave a dismissive sniff. “I could be, but Nob taught me too much of a good thing tends to sour others on my perfection.”
“I think your perfection is souring my stomach, which is a damn shame since this is the best lasagna I’ve ever eaten. I should slash you to ribbons for ruining a culinary masterpiece. How that sweet, gifted brownie puts up with your vain, useless self I’ll never know.”
Temper flashed in grass-green eyes. “He puts up with me, as you so callously put it, because he’s been with my family for generations. Nob helped raise me and he would never desert me for a backwoods Southerner with no manners.”
Her grandfather’s favorite saying popped in her head. Of course at the time Grand Papa had been in front of the alpha explaining his actions. “He needed killin’.”
Would Grand Papa’s killin’ defense work as well for her as it had for him? Somehow, considering how far outside the Southern states they were, Calder doubted it. Instead she took a deep breath and tried the counting thing her human anger management counselor swore worked for everyone else.
Reaching one hundred, Calder opened her eyes to find the tricky, mint-smelling bastard standing in front of her. How did he move so quickly for a non-shifter?
“Fine, Nob will stay in your unappreciated household. I don’t know why we’re arguing about this anyway. There are so many other things we could be fighting about.” How had her night turned into this bad farce? She should be thrilled to meet her mate, making calls to her family and pride with the good news. However, something besides his non-specified species kept any hint of happiness from leaking through.
“Nob is—”
“Nob is here and delighted Master Roark has finally admitted what a priceless jewel Nob is. Now, you may brush Nob’s glorious mane of hair. Fifty strokes each side then you may proceed to massage Nob’s perfect scalp.” The short brownie scurried across the room, wide silver-backed brush in hand while a taunting smile stretched his unusually large mouth.
“Since when do I groom you, Nob?” Arms crossed across an impressive chest, Roark perfected the lord of the manor look. Complete with mild disdain and snotty, above-the-peasants glare.
The petite man didn’t back down as he thumped the heavy brush against his tiny leathery palm. “You will do this or Nob will arrange all your music selections in alphabetical and published order. Then I will have a party and invite my family to gather in your office.”
Roark let out a low, very canine-sounding growl before yanking the brush out of the smaller man’s grip. “Turn around, you little conniving manipulator.”
“Be gentle, Roark, son of Selen. I have not hosted a cleaning party in at least fifty years and my relatives are anxious to see you again,” Nob threatened with a victorious smile.
Then reality and truth slammed Calder over the head harder than any two-by-four ever could. “Roark, son of Selen? House of…”
Two sets of male eyes turned to her, one with confusion and one with wary contempt. The older male spoke first. “Oh yes, Roark is from the oldest and most noble of Fae houses. The House of Luna.”
Jumping to her feet even as dread pooled in her stomach Calder licked her suddenly dry lips. “You’re Fae?”
“Not really, I mean kind of—”
“Of course you are, Master Roark. Wasn’t I there when you were born in the Queen’s castle with Her Majesty’s royal physician attending your mother? There is no greater house in Fae, nor any older or more powerful.” The diminutive Fae, because that’s what all brownies were, even if Calder forgot the fact for a moment or ten, sounded so proud.
“Oh shit,” she whispered, wondering what else the tricky fate bitches had in store for her. “Of all the crappy shit to get stuck with, I get a freakin’ fairy for a mate.” The words she meant to grumble or swallow came out a manic shout, causing both men to take several steps back until her words registered.
Nob jumped up and down, his OshKoshes sliding down his thin hips. “You’re mates? Oh how delightful!” He turned to the glowering green-eyed man. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re mated? Oh by the grace of the Queen and moon.” The small elf pressed a tan hand to his forehead, the perfect picture of distress. “I let you serve my new lady leftover slop. The shame, the humiliation. I’ll never be allowed in the Mr. Clean competition again. My family will mock me then shun me for eternity. Woe is me and curse you and your father’s fast swimmers. This is your fault, Roark! Celibacy take you, you snottering git.”
Clearly when in the grip of Fae hysterics, the brownie forgot his speech pattern and embarrassing fawning adjectives, not to mention Nob stopped referring to himself in third person, which Calder found rather refreshing.
“Hey, how in the name of dew fairies is this my fault? She,” Roark pointed one long perfectly manicured finger in her direction, “she came here without an invitation and sat spying on my home for hours. Blame her.”
To drive his point home, Roark crossed the small distance separating them and shoved her in the brownie’s direction. “Take her, Nob! Take her, leave the most innocent and good-looking one alone. Remember, brownie-boy, I’ve yet to bless the gene pool with my priceless DNA. And perfection will never be duplicated once I’m gone.”
“God bless Texas, tell me he’s not serious?” Calder shot Nob a look of pleading. Really, finding out her mate was Fae sucked enough, but to also find out said mate had an ego bigger than a
ll the males in her pride put together pretty much ruined her year.
“He’s actually handling this better than I thought. Sometimes he has a tendency to get a little dramatic.” Nob patted her hand, all signs of his previous temper gone.
“I’m sorry, good creatures of planet Earth. I never had a chance to bless you with my seed and watch the fruit of my loins grown into a perfection of looks, wit, charm and intelligence. Oh cruel, cruel world, my seed longs to spring forth and fertilize your…ah fields.” The fool fate or destiny cursed her with whined while falling perfectly on the couch, his tanned forearm resting over his eyes as Roark cried his plea to an uncaring and unimpressed audience of two.
Calder turned back to Nob, one eyebrow raised in question. “This is handling it? What the hell does he do when he wants to make a scene?”
“Generally he rents out a theatre on Broadway and send invitations out.” The brownie shrugged under her withering stare.
“Oh this is so not going to turn out well. My family will roast him as an appetizer before Uncle Void whittles his bones into toothpicks to commemorate the event of his demise.” Really, why did these things happen to her? All she ever wanted was a nice, quiet life with a faithful mate and maybe a kid or two to keep her daddy happy. What she never asked for and so did not deserve was this…this drama queen with no acting talent. At least if he’d had a gift for the dramatic then Calder could be entertained, but he lacked even that small grace.
“Well, my dear… Ah, I’m sorry I didn’t catch you name.”
“Calder,” she responded with a weary sigh. “Calder Douget.”
“Well, Calder, we should let himself carry on and get it out of his system. You and I will head into my office and get some things sorted out. After all, someone needs to put this mess to rights and we both know it won’t be him.”
GettingLuckyinGalway Page 3