by Zoe Chant
The bridge gave onto a exquisite terrace overlooking the lagoon, where people waited with two cloth-covered tables and loaded trays of food. As they approached, with a flourish the catering people whipped off silver dish covers, displaying the delicacies the Rose Garden Tea Room always offered: tea sandwiches and breads, hummus and black olive tapenade, several types of scones, luscious fruits, tiny, layered dessert cakes and custards, and salad fixings.
As she looked over the marvelous array, Mindy caught Dennis’s low voice somewhere behind the slatted wall, near the pagoda. “No matter what happens, just keep singing, okay? I’m not sure about the timing . . .”
“Tea, ma’am?” A waitperson stood in front of Mindy, smiling. “I’ve an Assam blend in both regular and decaf, and Gyokoro Green, and a Dongting Biluochen from China.”
“Oh, I’ll take that last,” Mindy said, as Jan and Shelley both opted for the decaf.
The trays had been set on a waiting buffet. “Let’s get started,” Dennis said, rubbing his hands.
As they loaded up their plates, from somewhere nearby drifted the sound of voices. Mindy stilled. Was that . . . Yes! A Persian love song. No one else was around—she turned to Dennis. “Was this a special program, or . . .?”
He said, “This is just for you, because—” He broke off, staring past Mindy’s shoulder.
She turned her gaze to see a guy in an expensive suit coming over the bridge, with three big guys following.
Dennis lifted his voice. “This is a private party.”
“Excuse me, I have to visit the restroom,” Mick murmured, and beckoned to the catering people, who withdrew with him, one sending a puzzled look back.
Dennis didn’t seem to notice at all as he stood up, tension in every line of his body.
“And you can go right back to your nice party,” the first man said. “Once we have a short chat. You’ve been a difficult person to get hold of, Mr. O’Keefe.”
“Yes, on purpose,” Dennis said, arms crossed. “I’m here for the holidays, with my friends. And like I said, this is a private party.”
In the background, the Persian love song finished, and a minor key Greek ballad started up as the man approached without checking. He was maybe thirty-five, sandy-blond hair, and offered a toothy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Well, I’ll be leaving you to it as soon as we reach an accommodation,” the man said as the three big guys spread out behind him, each wearing dark glasses, though the clouds had thickened considerably. Mindy instantly distrusted them as she couldn’t see where their eyes were looking.
“You see,” the first guy went on, “Mr. Atkins wants to offer you a very generous deal. Through no fault of his own, his business is taking a severe hit because of allegations you made in the Brent Ellerton article about his connections here in Los Angeles. To repair this unfortunate situation, Mr. Atkins would like to hire you to print a positive spin on his organization—”
From across the lake, on the arched bridge, a cluster of guys had appeared. “Simmons, this was our game,” one called.
Sandy-haired Simmons looked annoyed as he broke off, turned, then yelled, “We’re first. And if Mr. O’Keefe doesn’t take our offer . . . .” He waved his hand. “You’re welcome to convey Ellerton’s regards in your own way.”
“Fuck you,” Dennis said distinctly, stepping between Mindy and these unwanted newcomers. “Fuck you, fuck Atkins, and fuck Ellerton most of all—”
The second set of unwanted newcomers obviously couldn’t hear, because their leader yelled back, “Simmons, last warning: this is our game. Go away. We’ve got you outnumbered.”
For answer, Simmons waved his hand—and a bunch of guys emerged from the ferns and shrubbery on the far side of the lake. He smiled, slid his hand into his jacket pocket—
But from the guys who’d just emerged on the far side of the lake came a man’s frightened scream, followed by a very loud roar. The guys on the lake spun around as a huge white Russian bear shambled out, teeth bared.
A couple of the guys fumbled for guns, but the bear swatted them left and right in a blur of speed. Two crashed into the lake, another went head over heels into decorative cacti, and the fourth began to run.
The ones on the far bridge stared. “There’s a bear.” The leader’s voice carried across the rippling waters of the lake, as Simmons’ ex-backup guys slogged through reeds and mud toward the shore. “A fucking bear. Let’s go.” They stampeded off in the other direction.
Simmons turned back, his smile thin, then it turned to a frown. “Where’s O’Keefe?”
As the delicate strains of an Arab romantic ballad floated on the cool air, Mindy looked around the beautiful pagoda and the screening walls for Dennis, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Simmons said sharply to his minions, “Grab his girl, and we’ll deal with him on our turf—”
He pointed to Mindy with the pistol he’d just pulled out of his jacket.
Shelley’s leg snapped up, revealing studded and buckled boots under those slinky pants. The steel toe connected with Simmons’ wrist with a crack, and the gun went flying.
Simmons spun around, whipping a fist up to attack her, but she blocked and kicked toward his knee. Simmons sidestepped as Mindy tried to back away—straight into one of the guys.
A deep, terrifying growl caused everyone to whirl as a huge golden-backed, striped tiger paced out from behind the pagoda wall. The music faltered to a stop as the tiger fixed its eyes on Simmons and crouched, ready to spring.
Simmons ducked a swing from Shelley and scrambled back. Two of his guys followed, but the thug behind Mindy grabbed her and shoved her in front of him, using her as a shield.
“Really?” she gasped, trying to stomp on his foot. But then the cold muzzle of a gun poked into her neck, and the tiger froze in place.
“Oh, hell,” Mindy whispered—and shifted.
The guy let out a “What the fuck?” as he groped for air.
The world of sight diminished, replaced by the world of scent and sound as Mindy hit the wooden terrace with her little poodle paws. The acrid stench of sweat guided Mindy as the guy turned the gun toward the tiger. She couldn’t comprehend what he was yelling, but she didn’t need to. She leaped into the air, and crunched her teeth on his gun hand.
He screamed. Shelley kicked his knee from the side as Jan dumped an entire pot of hot tea over him. He dropped the pistol, which Shelley punted into the lake, and the guy staggered away, pawing at the hot tea all over his face and neck. He hustled across the bridge after his pals, yelling, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Mindy sniffed the air as she gazed into the blur. When she smelled no strange men nearby, she shifted back to her human self, shivering with reaction. Jan promptly picked up her dress and shook it out.
Shelley scooped up her panties, and the two women stood between her and the pagoda while Mindy, with shaking hands, hastily dressed herself.
The tiger had vanished beyond the pagoda wall.
“Wow,” Shelley said, as Mindy retied the halter straps behind her head. “You were awesome, Mindy.”
“Me? You kicked ass,” Mindy stuttered, nerves making her shaky. “You, too, Jan—he’s going to be feeling that tea for a while.”
“Good,” Jan stated, arms crossed. Then, “Where’s JP?”
Shelley cast a meaningful glance toward the pagoda, and this time Mindy understood the signal: Don’t talk about shifters in front of the singers. “I bet he’s with the others. At the restroom.”
“Okay, right,” Jan said, and plopped into her chair.
Mindy picked up a tea sandwich, though she wasn’t sure she could eat it. A moment later, the singers started again—somewhat ragged at first, but then they pulled it together, and to Mindy’s growing wonder, began “Erev Shel Shoshanim,” one of her favorite songs ever.
Halfway into the first chorus, Dennis reappeared, a little mussed, with a shoe print on the side of his slacks, and dust on his shirt. Right behind him Mick s
auntered up, his clothes streaming wet.
Mindy breathed in relief. But then Dennis scowled in all directions, as if daring any more bad guys to pop up, then approached Mindy with such intent that she dropped the tea sandwich again. “Dennis?”
* * *
This was it.
He was not about to risk any more shit happening. The singers were in the middle of the song she’d once told him was the most romantic she’d ever heard, so even though his careful speech had completely gone out of his head, he smiled into her bright brown eyes and reached into his coat pocket to pull out the ring box.
Mindy’s lips parted, her pupils huge.
Good sign? Bad sign? At that moment, splat! Splat!
Raindrops began to fall on the table, the food, his hand. Frustrated to the max, he threw back his head and yelled at the sky, “Why do you do this to me, God?”
“I love rain,” Mindy said breathlessly, a couple of drops glimmering like crystal in her puff of hair as she gazed at the ring box. But then, as Dennis pulled out the folded prenup, her happy expression turned to the most ferocious scowl he had ever seen from her. “But I don’t love that. I know what that is. I’ve seen a million of them in my family . . .”
Before Dennis could move, she ripped it out of his hand. “I know what this is without even looking at it,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time, as rain gently fell all around them. “You found someone who would tie up everything I inherited so you wouldn’t be able to touch it.” She pointed at the ring box in his hand, the tears spilling over. “Because you’re noble, and sweet, and honest . . . and totally pig-headed!”
As she spoke, she ripped the prenup into tiny pieces. “Because if you really want to marry me, what about ‘to have and to hold . . . from this day forward, for better, for worse . . .” Rip, rip! “‘For richer, for poorer . . .’” Rip! “‘In sickness and in health, until death do us part?’ That means we both have it, and hold it, whatever happens, for the rest of our lives.”
She flung the pieces of the prenup into the air, where they fell in a rain-soaked moat around them.
“Don’t you agree?” Mindy said. “Both of us? Isn’t that what marriage is, a conversation, a sharing, a . . . an everything together?”
“Yes,” Dennis said numbly, aware that his plan had gone to shit—but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered, because Mindy, who hated marriage, was proposing to him. “Yes. Yes,” he said as she flung herself tightly into his arms. “Whatever you want. As long as we live.”
She gave a gulping sob and kissed him, and he kissed her back, then they fell apart, staring helplessly, witlessly, at each other, until Shelley’s practical voice broke in. “I suggest you put that ring on her finger.”
“Yes,” Jan said cheerfully. “And then help us move this lovely food under the pagoda awning over there before it gets spoiled.”
Mick was already at work dragging their buffet table into shelter. JP then reappeared, walking over the bridge. He looked a little tousled, his usually immaculate clothes splattered with rain drops.
He accepted the cup of hot tea that Jan held out as he said, “Ah, just in time for the ring.”
Dennis at that moment pushed it gently over Mindy’s knuckle. He whispered to her, “My mom suggested it. Belonged to my great-great grandmother over in Ireland.”
Mindy wiped her eyes with her free hand as Shelley handed tea to Mick, who said, “Where were you, JP?”
“At the head of the trail. Where a few of our late friends suffered some accidents.” JP regarded reddened knuckles, flexed his hand, and smiled. “They piled into their vehicles, whose license plates a Concerned Citizen reported to 911, mentioning drunkenness and drag racing. Which may or may not be strictly true, but I believe when the police see the arsenal of weaponry in those cars, the point will be moot.”
At that moment the cloudburst began, as the chorus swelled on the beautiful song. They stood under the sheltering awning as rain sheeted silver all around them
Mick raised his teacup. “To Mindy and Dennis!”
The others joined in heartily, then dug into the food.
Dennis knew intellectually that it was delicious, but his heart was too full to register anything but Mindy sitting close by him, still shivering a little, the ring sparkling on her finger as she smiled mistily at them all, but especially at him. That smile reflected in her eyes, brimming with joy, and trust, and the happiness he’d hoped to see—that much, at least, he’d got right.
The rain slackened right about the time they finished eating. As the catering people cautiously reappeared from wherever Mick had sent them to hide, the singing group emerged from the pagoda.
Dennis, Mindy, and the other four clapped heartily as the leader came over to Dennis and JP. “We all agreed. There’s no charge,” he said. “For what has to have been the . . . most interesting performance we’ve ever given.”
“Thank you,” JP said with his usual suavity, shaking the guy’s hand.
“Thanks a lot,” Dennis said. “You guys were great.”
The fellow nodded, rubbed his chin as he turned away, then turned back. “We couldn’t really see through the slatting, but, the lady . . . the dog?”
“There might have been a dog running around,” Shelley said, stepping up to them. “But it’s gone.”
“I slipped and fell,” Mindy said. “Under the table.” Her big, wide brown eyes looked winsome and soulful.
“And the bear?”
“Maybe escaped from the L.A. Zoo,” Jan said at the same moment Shelley said, “What bear?”
Mick covered his eyes with his hands, his mouth compressed into a line as he obviously fought not to laugh.
The guy nodded a couple times, then moved away with his group, talking in low voices. The word ‘tiger?’ was the only one clearly heard. One look back, and they were gone.
“I’ll send a donation to their website,” JP said.
Mindy turned to Dennis, grinning. He grinned back, heady with joy as she said, “This whole thing—it was so sweet of you.”
“Got a little messed up. I’m sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. Besides, it gave me a chance to see you guys in action. That was amazing.” She turned to Mick.
He grinned. “I have to admit, a little action added some spice to a memorable day.”
Dennis said to Mindy, “I guess you were right about us being followed.”
She nodded slowly, her brow thoughtful. “I wonder if they followed us from the premier, then staked out my apartment, then followed us here. That’s how I would have done it.”
“You know,” he said. “You’re really good at this sort of stuff. And I’m good at writing up what we find. Maybe we should think about teaming up.”
“There’ll be no stopping us,” she said, and kissed him.
Epilogue
Christmas morning saw everyone back in Sanluce, gathered around the tree that the Sentinels had decorated, with the help of the friends they had been making among Sanluce’s teenagers.
Mindy sat back and watched, her heart full as she turned the simple, old-fashioned ring around and around on her finger.
JP and Jan had made sure the teens got plenty of presents, but the real hit of the morning turned out to be the things the kids had made for the LaFleurs. A knitted scarf in JP’s favorite blue—a shoe rack for Jan—a stained glass window of a phoenix that one of the kids had made in a high school class—these were all heartfelt gifts, given and received with genuine joy. So very different from the Jaguars and diamonds and designer frivolities Mindy remembered from years ago, which had not been given in joy, or received with much besides greed and maybe a question about resale value.
“I could get used to this,” she whispered to Dennis.
His smile flickered. They sat together, touching at hip and shoulder. Every so often she caught him looking at her ring, as if he couldn’t believe it was really on her finger.
She couldn’t believe it either. Bu
t it was there, and it felt so right.
Her eyes burned again, and she blinked to keep from tearing up. She glanced at Mick’s grandparents, who kept looking at Shelley with such proud, tender expressions that Mindy suspected they’d been told about the expected baby.
Jan moved around, murmuring with Mrs. LaFleur as they saw that things worked smoothly. Mindy could tell that the elegant, cool mother-in-law actually liked her daughter-in-law. They both were so well put together, and Jan seemed to be demonstrating a flair for organization, if some of the talk Mindy caught was anything to judge by.
This is what Christmas is all about, she thought. They had begun late that morning because some had wanted to attend Christmas celebrations in church. Others had used the opportunity to sleep a little longer, or to open presents, or to help serve Christmas breakfast at the local veterans’ hospital. Whatever Christmas meant to them individually, they were united in good will and a sense of family—of belonging.
That was what Mindy had missed since her great-grandmother had passed away: belonging. Too many of her family translated that into belongings, or material wealth. But that didn’t sustain the kind of happiness she was only beginning to trust now.
“Maybe next year we’ll have my parents on hand,” Dennis murmured.
“And my stepbrother,” she whispered back.
And who knew who else might come along? But the important thing was that they were starting a new tradition: from now on, Christmas meant family, as well as love.
A note from Zoe Chant
Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to be emailed when I release my next book, please click here to be added to my mailing list.
Please click on the title to write a review of Hollywood Shifters’ Christmas. I love hearing what my readers think! It helps me decide what to write next.
Page down to read a special sneak preview of Target: BillionBear, which had in addition to sizzling romance and high-tension action, a sense of community among shifters that fits the spirit of the season!