by Zoe Chant
The shower was hot.
Athena wasn’t used to showers that got more than lukewarm, and then only for a few minutes. The hot water heater in the abandoned house that she shared with Alaric was—well, decrepit was a kind word for it.
Santos’ shower, though, cranked up to blazingly hot and stayed there the whole time she was in it. Which she kept short, out of guilt for using up his water, and for leaving him to babysit while she got clean.
But still. Hot the whole time. It was luxurious.
And she did spend a solid minute, after she’d quickly scrubbed herself down and slapped some shampoo in her hair, just standing under the water and letting it cascade down her body, drinking in the heat.
But just for a minute.
Soon enough, she reluctantly turned the water off and dragged her tired body out into the bathroom. The whole space smelled a little like Santos now, because she’d used his soap and shampoo, and the masculine, slightly woody scent that she’d caught from him now floated around her.
Not exactly like him, though. There was something underneath the soap-and-shampoo scent, the smell of Santos himself, with a deep, warm, musky quality that a shampoo wouldn’t have been able to replicate...
Athena shook herself out of her daze. This was what happened when she didn’t sleep. She got caught in long reveries about nothing important.
She found a spare towel folded on a rack and briskly dried herself off, dressed, and stepped out of the warm, steamy bathroom into reality again.
And was faced with Santos, kneeling on the floor of the spare room with Olivia on the changing pad, a diaper in one hand and wipes in the other, and a determined expression on his face.
Before she could step forward and take over, though, he held up his hand. “Wait. I’ve got this.”
His tone brooked no arguments. Nonplussed, Athena stood in the hallway and watched as he carefully unsnapped Olivia’s onesie and got to work.
He’d changed a diaper before, she decided after a minute, or at least understood the principles fairly well, but he wasn’t an expert by any means. Still, he did everything right, if slowly, and was lucky enough not to get peed on. Olivia’s expression was a little wrinkled with displeasure, but she didn’t start screaming or attempt to escape.
Santos finished with a flourish, buttoning Olivia back up and putting her back into her little flannel winter suit. “There you go,” he told her. “All done.” He looked back at Athena. “Well? How’d I do?”
“Eight out of ten,” she told him, coming forward to meet Olivia’s sudden reach for her now that she’d reappeared.
“I’ll take that with a smile,” he said, coming gracefully to his feet.
In retrospect, Athena didn’t know how she could’ve thought he was human. There was a casual power to his movements, a fluid strength that screamed shifter.
“So,” he said, stepping past her to the open bathroom door to toss the used diaper in the trash can. “Do you want a nap? I can watch her for longer, no problem.”
She glanced at the time. Eight-thirty. “Aren’t you going to have to open the store soon?” The posted hours had said it opened at nine.
He waved a hand. “I can open late today. Most of my work is on commission, anyway—the hours mostly mean that I’ll be in my workshop, so if someone needs to come talk to me about a piece, they can do that. But if they really need me, they can call or email.”
Athena felt suddenly off balance. “But you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t have to disrupt your life for us like this. I’d much rather you went to work like normal. I’m already not paying you anything for staying here—”
“I don’t want any payment,” he interrupted firmly. “That’s not why I’m doing this at all.”
“Then why?” she asked, frustrated. “There’s no reason for any of this!”
Santos hesitated. Then, before he could answer, a quiet, “Mrow?” echoed down the hallway. Humphrey’s black-and-white head appeared around the corner from the living room.
Santos looked at the cat, then smiled a little, and looked back at her. “Maybe I just think we could both use a friend.”
Athena stared at him for long enough that the smile faded a bit, and he said, “But if it would make you more comfortable for me to head down and open the store like usual, I’ll do that.”
Athena honestly felt like she’d lost the ability to make words. Who was this man? What was he doing?
Finally, she managed, “I’d just rather you went about your day like normal. That’s all.”
“Okay, then. I’d be heading downstairs right about now, then, so I’ll—do that.” The smile was back, but now it looked less...natural, somehow. “But I want you to let me know if you or Olivia need anything. Please.”
She nodded. “All right.” Her voice came out more subdued than she’d meant it to.
“Okay, well—have a good morning, then. I’ll come up and check on you around lunchtime, see what we want to do for food.” He nodded to her, then waved at Olivia, who watched him solemnly. Then he turned and headed for the door to the stairs.
Athena was overcome, suddenly, with the desire to call him back. To say, No, wait, I do want you to close your store. Stay up here with us. Maybe we can all take a nap together. Her mind threw out a picture of them all twined together in the guest bed, Olivia resting on Santos’ broad chest—
But that was ridiculous, so she stayed silent until he was gone, until his footsteps on the stairs had faded to nothing.
Then she looked at Olivia. “What have I gotten us into?”
Olivia didn’t have an answer for her, of course. She just wanted to get down and explore some more.
Athena set her down and let her charge off into the great unknown again. Humphrey stayed visible this time, although well out of grabbing range, watching this new creature with cautious interest.
Athena knew how he felt.
It just didn’t make sense, what Santos was doing. Taking a strange woman and baby into his home, allowing them to totally disrupt his life? And that was even without the fact that they were from a hostile clan, who had already actively attacked his home once.
Maybe that was the explanation. Maybe Santos was keeping them here so that he could gain a tactical advantage to use against Jeremiah if the conflict continued. Athena knew that she was a valuable source of intelligence. If Santos could get her to trust him—even better, get her to go back home and feed him information about what Jeremiah was planning—that would be a huge asset for Oak Ridge.
That was an explanation that made perfect sense.
Too bad she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
Trust him, her dragon hissed.
And then there was that.
Athena's inner dragon never trusted anyone outside the clan. Clan was the most important thing to it, except for family, which was encompassed by clan. According to her dragon, Olivia was the most important thing in the world, Alaric was the second-most, the rest of the red dragons were all right, and then everyone else in the world was expendable.
But not Santos, apparently.
Olivia scooted into the bathroom, and Athena went to gently redirect her out and away from places where she could bonk her head. “Let's think about this, kiddo,” she said down to the tiny crawling form of her daughter. “What if we use logic instead of instinct?”
Okay. The first logical explanation was obviously the one she'd already come up with. Maybe Santos was using her for strategic purposes.
But a piece of evidence against that was that he'd brought her right to Ronan, and hadn't intervened at all in their conversation. And he hadn't tried to ask her about the clan or get her to do anything for Oak Ridge in exchange for asylum.
Yet.
So that was a data point in his favor, but it was one that needed further observation. She'd have to keep her eye out and see if she could spot him trying anything to get her to tell him about Jeremiah's plans, or otherwise help Oak Ridge's defenses.
Maybe she could even test him, to see if he was susceptible to temptation in that area. That was a good idea.
The other possible explanation was that Santos was completely on the level, just a very nice man who wanted to help her and Olivia out. Who had taken her in because, as he'd said, he thought they both needed a friend.
Yes, her dragon hissed.
“But that doesn't make any sense,” Athena complained to nobody, while Olivia contemplated the couch in the front room. “Why would he do that?”
Maybe the better question was: why her? If Santos was such a nice, wonderful, kind, helpful man, why wasn't some other person already in his guest room, taking advantage of that kindness? Why did he live alone at all, come to that? Anyone with that open and generous of a heart surely would've found a wife and started a family by now.
Especially anyone that good-looking. Who owned his own store. And made beautiful furniture. And liked babies.
Frankly, as she thought this all over, she was coming to the conclusion that there had to be something really wrong with him, for him to still be single. Otherwise, it just didn't make sense at all.
She pondered the problem more as she followed Olivia around, but by the time her daughter decided that she was hungrier than she was curious, Athena hadn't managed to do more than retread the same ground again and again.
It just didn't make any sense. But it felt right anyway.
“This is really stupid,” she whispered to Olivia as she sat down to nurse. “Why couldn't Ronan just have come back home with us?”
Which was a whole other problem that needed her attention, and the Santos issue had been distracting her all morning.
“I think it's naptime,” she said, when Olivia was done eating. Lack of sleep was clearly hampering her judgment. Maybe with a clearer head, she'd be able to figure out what Santos' motivations were. Or at least be able to turn her attention to the real problem, which was how to convince Ronan that she was right and he could come home and take his rightful place as clan leader.
Olivia was blinking sleepily, so Athena settled back in the guest bed with her daughter on her chest and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would bring clarity.
***
Athena stood with Santos in front of the diner, Olivia asleep in Santos’ arms, smiling at each other.
Then, some instinct prickled the back of Athena’s neck. She turned, and there on the horizon—
The red dragons. All of them. Coming to attack.
Athena’s eyes snapped open. She was only stopped from sitting bolt upright by the fact that Olivia was still slumbering peacefully on her chest.
Attack! her instincts were still screaming. It took a long, long minute of breathing deeply and reminding herself of where she was to make them calm down.
No one was attacking. She was in Santos’ guest room, and Olivia was right here and safe. It was just a dream.
A weird, weird dream.
She checked the time. Then checked it again. It was almost noon—she’d slept the morning right away.
Well. She’d needed the sleep. She was amazed that Olivia had managed to sleep this long, but she wasn’t going to look a gift nap in the mouth.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Olivia started stirring, forehead scrunching, fists clenching.
“You’re not happy, are you,” Athena observed, and right on cue, Olivia opened her mouth and started to wail.
So then it was time for a much-needed diaper change and another meal. Once all that had been taken care of, and everyone was clean and dry and reasonably happy, she took Olivia out of the bedroom, carrying her around the apartment, doing her own small investigation.
It was much brighter now than it had been at dawn—Santos had these enormous windows that faced west, looking out at the mountain and a huge expanse of blue sky beyond it. The sunlight streamed in, making the wooden floors almost glow.
It was beautiful, but it made her almost itchy, to be so exposed like that. Especially after the dream. She kept expecting someone to appear over that horizon.
Before she could figure out who she was afraid of appearing, Athena heard footsteps on the stairs.
The door opened, and Santos’ deep voice drifted through. “Athena? Coming up for lunch.”
“I’m here,” she called back, and Santos came through the door.
He’d wanted to warn her that he was about to come in, she realized, instead of simply opening the door and appearing. A sweet gesture, even if shifter hearing rendered it mostly unnecessary.
“Hi,” he said when he saw her, a smile appearing on his face. She smiled back uncertainly—she hadn’t had time to think about what her strategy should be, to try and figure out what his motivations truly were.
“Hi,” she replied. “Um. I—I thought of something I could do to repay your kindness.”
The idea appeared like a bolt from the blue—specifically, the expanse of blue sky outside the windows.
Santos shook his head, looking exasperated. “I told you, I don’t need—”
“I want to,” she interrupted. “Because you really need some help with your defenses, here.”
He stopped mid-sentence, blinking in apparent surprise. “My what, now?”
“Your defenses,” she repeated more clearly. She hadn’t expected him to need any explanation for this, although maybe that explained the whole...situation. “You’re incredibly vulnerable here. The town in general, of course, but specifically this building. All of these windows—” She gestured. “You need some kind of reinforced shutter, or anyone who shows up could break right through and attack.”
Santos was watching her with a bemused expression on his face. “Are you worried about someone showing up and attacking you?”
“Not me,” she said, frustrated, although if Jeremiah or Shiloh appeared outside right now, she’d certainly have some explaining to do. “You.”
“No one’s targeting me,” he pointed out. “Not specifically, not outside of my residence in town. And we’re doing pretty well at defenses so far. No one’s been seriously hurt or killed.”
“Yet,” she said, impatiently. The cavalier way he was dismissing the need for security irritated her. “You’re at war, or don’t you remember that?”
Her voice was rising, and Olivia made a distressed noise. She calmed herself with an effort.
“Hey,” he said, quietly. “Of course I remember. I would never take chances with the safety of anyone under my protection, believe me. You’re both safe here.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“And,” he continued, a little firmer now, “we have several extremely good tactical minds focused on defending the town. Malachi, the sheriff, has been keeping us safe all through this situation, and Flynn, his deputy, and Lachlan both served in the Marines for years. Elizabeth, Malachi’s mate, has one of the sharpest eyes for strategy I’ve ever personally seen. We’re going to be okay, Athena, I promise you.”
That...wasn’t how he was supposed to respond.
Athena had been sure that he would jump at the chance to learn a red dragon’s perspective on tactics and defense. Why wouldn’t he? They were at war with the red dragons.
It would have been enough to make her start to doubt his intelligence, if he wasn’t obviously a smart, careful man.
“I don’t understand you,” she said finally.
He smiled, and it looked sad, for some reason. “I think I’m starting to understand you a little better, if that helps.”
“Not really,” she muttered, and he laughed, a real laugh this time. His eyes crinkled at the edges.
“How about some lunch? I can make us something, or we can go back to the diner.”
“Here is fine,” she said, after a rapid calculation about whether it would put Santos out more to fix them lunch with his own hands, or pay for another restaurant meal. It was hard to judge because she hadn’t even looked at the menu at Lachlan’s, so she had no idea what the prices were, but at least if they
were here, she could offer to help.
But she was foiled at that, because he wouldn’t let her. “You have Olivia to watch,” he pointed out. “I can take care of it.”
So she played with Olivia while he moved around the kitchen, actually cooking, rather than just making a couple of sandwiches. Athena thought about objecting, but, well, she already knew how that would go.
She was struck again, as she watched him, by how smoothly he moved. That shifter strength and grace—and he used it for making furniture, not fighting.
She wondered how he looked when he was building something. Confident, precise, running his hands across unfinished wood. Sawdust settling on his skin. Maybe exerting himself enough to sweat—
Nope. She went back to shaking Olivia’s rattle just barely out of her reach, firmly ignoring anything happening in the kitchen.
After just a little longer, though, Santos said, “Okay, come and get it,” setting down a couple of plates on the big table. Athena came over to see that he’d made sandwiches after all—but they were some kind of extra-ordinary grilled cheese, with bacon and tomato and a salad on the side.
“Wow,” she said, staring down at it. “I’ve never seen a grilled cheese like this.”
“Stole the idea from Lachlan,” Santos confessed with a smile as he sat down. “He’ll do grilled cheese weeks sometimes, where every day the lunch special is a different kind of grilled cheese. Mushrooms and gruyere or pastrami and pickles or God knows what else. Took me a while to figure out that I didn’t need a restaurant kitchen to soup up a cheese sandwich when I wanted to.”
Athena took a bite, Olivia watching avidly from down by the chair like a begging dog. The bacon and tomato added a whole extra dimension, crunchy and salty and sweet, and the cheese was sharp and interesting. It was easily the best she’d ever had.
She had a sudden flashback to being ten, Alaric twelve and convinced he could figure out how to make them grilled cheese for lunch, hissing as he burned his fingers on their stove where only one burner worked. Guilt bit at her, as though she was being disloyal to Alaric, to both of their efforts to make a family out of two people, by enjoying Santos’ grilled cheese sandwich.