by Zoe Chant
“I could figure out her favorite dishes and you could cook her a romantic dinner here at The Den,” Saina suggested.
Wrench snorted.
“Maybe we should narrow this to things Wrench can do?” Travis suggested. “What are your skills?”
“My skills ain’t applicable,” Wrench said dryly. “Unless she needs a drain unclogged or someone persuaded.”
“She likes dancing,” Tex said thoughtfully. “Breck still says he can teach anyone to salsa.”
“Nope.” Wrench stuffed another fancy egg bite in his mouth. “Not happening.”
Jenny looked at her watch. “I’m going to have to get going. The charter is coming in about an hour. Who’s driving the van?”
Travis offered his elbow. “I’ll be conducting your chariot, lady.”
Jenny took his arm. “Thank you kindly, sir.”
“Will you need assistance with your luggage?”
“You may carry my bag, James,” Jenny said with laughter.
“Is this the kind of crap Lydia wants?” Wrench asked Tex desperately.
“Afraid so,” Tex said with a laugh.
Wrench groaned. “I’m so fucked.”
Chapter 16
“He’s trying,” Jenny told Lydia when they met near the resort entrance. “He really is!”
Lydia didn’t have to ask who. She tried to help load the luggage into the van, but Travis waved her off and she stepped back with Jenny to watch him load the waiting luggage into the van. “I suppose everyone has heard about my charming marriage proposal.”
“You aren’t really angry about it, are you?”
Lydia sighed. “No, I’m not mad anymore. It’s just that I wish… I wish it had been from the heart, you know.”
“It was,” Jenny insisted. “It’s just that his poor heart is all shriveled up and starved for affection, so it came out stupid and backwards.”
Lydia had to laugh at the image of Wrench’s heart, prune-like, in that magnificent chest. “It’s not so small as all that, or he wouldn’t care what happened to his sister or his niece,” she pointed out.
“So there’s hope for him!”
“There’s hope,” Lydia sighed. “He’s my mate and of course we’ll make it work.”
“Travis probably felt just as frustrated with me,” Jenny reminded her. “It was days before I could even talk with him. I was so sure I was going to lose what was left of my human self if I let myself love him the way I wanted to.”
Lydia looked at her thoughtfully. The otter shifter certainly looked content now. “How’d you work things out, then?”
“I finally trusted that he’d love me, even with all my flaws and foibles. And he helped me realize that my otter was really a part of me, and it was safe to let go of my fears.”
“I’m not afraid,” Lydia said hesitantly, and then wondered if she really was. She was afraid of disappointment. She was afraid she was being judgmental. She was afraid she had missed her chance at perfect happiness.
She could feel her swan’s cluck of disapproval. We did not miss our chance, her swan said chidingly. This is our chance.
Maybe she was a little afraid, because the idea irrationally made Lydia want to turn and run. She’d spent so many years longing for this, hoping and dreaming, waiting for her mate bond to bloom from the faint direction sense to the beautiful, perfect calling as it had for her brothers and sisters. And now that it was here, and nothing was the way she’d imagined it would be, she was acting like a spoiled little brat.
Had Wrench ever imagined her?
She tried to picture growing up on the streets, protecting one of her younger sisters, never even knowing if she’d ever find her mate, not just wondering when.
Jenny was giving Travis a lingering embrace and kiss.
“I’m going to miss you, Whiskers,” he was teasing her lovingly.
Lydia abruptly remembered her original purpose in finding Jenny. “Your return flight numbers,” she said. “I need to get Ally’s ticket!”
Jenny quickly pulled them up on her phone and they exchanged all the numbers that Lydia could imagine they’d need.
“I’ll work out the custody details with the police in LA,” Jenny promised as the guests in the van began to grow impatient. “I’ve got a friend at the firm who specializes in weird custody cases.”
Lydia gave her an impulsive embrace. “Thank you for everything,” she said sincerely. “Have a safe trip.”
She waved at the van, then returned to the spa to make sure that everything was ready for the next wave of guests.
It definitely wasn’t. Some of the wiser guests had decided to schedule services before the rush, and one of Lydia’s assistants was panicking that they didn’t have enough hands or supplies.
“We’ll make do,” Lydia said firmly in Spanish. It was her new motto.
She got to work, turning the last jugs of product on their lids so they could squeeze as much out of them as possible. “I’ll take the massage,” she said. “Call down to see if Laura can come do mani-pedis.”
She took the guest, the middle-aged brunette who’d been reading a book at the airstrip, back to the private alcove.
Memories of the night before swam back and Lydia had to catch her breath. Maybe they should concentrate on what worked for them, and the rest would come later.
Her swan settled serene black feathers against her back, pleased with this resolution.
Lydia was glad for the mood lighting as she went through her questions about injuries and the massage request with the client; she knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl.
By the time the spa had caught up, the next rush of visitors had arrived and were beginning to drift in.
Lydia only had time to eat an energy bar for lunch, and when the salon finally slowed for dinner, her hands were aching and her shoulders felt like she’d been lifting weights for a week.
“I’m going to need to get my own massage,” she laughed with one of her assistants, rolling her shoulders back and stretching. She wondered if Wrench would be any good at massage; he had those big, clever-looking fingers, but he seemed so nervous about touching her.
Small wonder, she thought, if touching her did the same things to him that it did to her.
But it gave her an idea.
Chapter 17
Wrench plodded through his day, muttering over the list that Bastian, Saina, Tex, and finally Laura had talked him into. Take an evening walk on the beach. Don’t talk about beating people up or how he got scars. Compliment her clothes. Laugh when she made jokes. He added himself, Don’t think too much about Renna or Ally, though he couldn’t keep himself from checking his phone a dozen times for a missed call, or a text with any news.
“You look lovely in that,” he practiced, over and over again. “Your hair looks great.”
The others had vetoed ‘You smell good,’ because they said it made him sound creepy.
“She does smell good,” he had protested.
“It’s best to pretend there is no other way they could smell,” Tex had corrected him.
Wooing a woman was clearly a minefield.
He made his way to the spa as the dinner rush was starting, glad to find that the front of the spa was not crowded. One of Lydia’s assistants was sweeping up, and she nodded towards the back with a knowing smile and a spatter of swift chatter in Spanish.
Wrench went back through the storage area and went out Lydia’s back bedroom door, where he finally found her.
Lydia was in the little courtyard behind the spa, folded into an impossible shape and balanced on one leg.
Wrench drank her in. As much as he dreaded the whole prospect of courtship, he felt better in her presence. Everything seemed somehow softer, without being weaker, and he could feel his panther settle.
Was this what peace felt like?
Lydia unfolded herself and bent her head over her tented hands, then looked up at Wrench expectantly. “Hola.”
Every practiced ph
rase was gone from his head, but Wrench realized he was holding a flower and thrust it at her. A compliment. He was supposed to give her a compliment.
“You’re bendy,” he growled.
To his great relief, Lydia laughed tolerantly and accepted the flower. “Did you ask Graham about this?” she asked, drinking in the smell of it.
“Got his blessing,” Wrench said with a nod. What was he supposed to do next? “Walk on the beach?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Yeah.” Belatedly, Wrench remembered the advice about polite invitations, and the playful interaction between Jenny and Travis. “If you wish, my, uh, lady?”
That earned him a quizzical look. “Well, that sounds lovely, my, uh, lord,” she said. Wrench decided that it was mocking, but not unkindly.
Wait, was this a joke? He was supposed to laugh at her jokes. “Huh huh huh,” he attempted badly.
Lydia mopped off her forehead with a towel. “Mind if we swing by the kitchen on the way? I’m famished. We can make a picnic of it!”
“Great.” Eating food on a sandy beach in the dark sounded like a new level of torture, but Wrench was here for Lydia, and he’d accepted every level of discomfort that came with her. Gritty, ill-lit food was a small price to pay for a mate like her.
She tossed her towel back into her open door into the basket that waited there, and Wrench had to swallow at the way her lush body wiggled with the motion.
“Why don’t you go see what you can gather up for us from the kitchen,” she said. “And I’ll take a quick shower and put the flower in water.”
“I can do that,” Wrench agreed, though he’d much rather stay and observe the shower. The others had been adamant that he go along with her ideas if she countered with anything.
When he got to the kitchen, he wondered if he’d already erred; the place was bustling like a beehive. He stood near the back, wondering who he’d need to bother.
“You’ve betrayed me,” Breck hissed at him, elbowing past with a tray full of dirty dishes.
“What are you on about?” Wrench growled, dodging another server with a tray of clean cutlery who was dashing out.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” Breck said, shaking his head. “Whether it’s the fact that you had to up and find your mate and steal a perfectly gorgeous woman from the open market, or that you would ask those buffoons at The Den about romance.” He made a rude noise with his lips. “Those rookies were all but celibate before they met their mates, and what they know about courtship would fit in a greased flip-flop.”
He deftly unloaded the tray into the sink for the busy dishwasher as he continued to berate Wrench. “Seriously, courtship? If you’re going to do Lydia right, and I certainly hope you will, you need good advice, knowledgeable advice, not the bumbling attempts of those idiots. They probably gave you a line about saying how pretty she looked and suggested a walk on the beach.”
“I need a picnic basket,” Wrench said.
“I know,” Breck said, rolling his eyes. “You suggested a moonlit walk before she’d had a chance to eat dinner, of course she’s going to counter with a dinner on the beach.”
Wrench blinked. “Well, yeah…”
“And they probably gave you a bunch of compliments to give her and tried to come up with thoughtful gifts that cost no money or some kind of ridiculous camp craft you could make.”
Wrench frowned. This was also true.
“Amateurs,” Breck said scathingly. “Compliments from you will never sound anything less than painfully rehearsed, and Lydia doesn’t want a crappy paper mache heart. Play to your strengths and keep your mouth shut. She’ll happily carry the conversation if you let her, so ask about her family, her spa, and her dancing, and let her do the talking. All you’ve got to do is listen when she’s talking and fuck her brains out when she’s done.”
That sounded far more useful to Wrench than anything the others had been able to tell him.
“Order up!” Chef hollered from deeper in the kitchen.
“There’s a basket by the door,” Breck said hastily.
As Wrench looked around for it, Breck added, “Cottage two is right off the beach and set up for you. Shower outside if you’re covered with sand.” Then he vanished with his tray to swoop up a pile of full plates to deliver to tables at the restaurant, leaving Wrench to gape after him.
Wrench found the basket, right by the back door and gave a grunt of surprise when he went to lift it; it was not the empty basket he expected to have to fill at the buffet, but already packed to the rim. He flipped open the lid to discover a blanket at the top, covering whatever wonders had been loaded into it.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly, but Breck was already long gone.
Chapter 18
Lydia was surprised how hard it was to watch Wrench walk away, even when she knew it would only be for a brief time. There was something about his presence that put her at ease, even while it made her restless and full of longing—this odd dichotomy that somehow completed her.
She showered swiftly, hopeful to meet him at the kitchen to save him the walk up to the spa. But as she was toweling off, she felt him start his return trip unexpectedly and she paused. Had something gone wrong? He couldn’t have picked food from the buffet so quickly, could he?
She finished drying with alacrity, and applied a touch of quick lipstick that probably wouldn’t survive the meal anyway.
Wrench came around the narrow path to the courtyard rather than through the spa, and Lydia was delighted to see that he was carrying a heavy basket. Her stomach growled in anticipation.
“Breck packed it,” Wrench said abruptly, as if he was worried she’d think he was trying to take credit for it.
“Right now, I’d eat a rake,” Lydia admitted. “I’m ready.” She slipped shoes onto her feet and put her hand at the crook of Wrench’s elbow. “Let’s go down the back way.”
She led him out the back entrance of her little courtyard, down to the far side of the kitchen complex, past the hotel and down to the dark side of the pool deck where their first disastrous date had been.
From there, they could take the steps down to the beach. Lydia wriggled out of her shoes and put them on the grass where the sand began. Wrench untied his shoes awkwardly and peeled off his socks to put next to them.
“I know a place,” she said, and she slipped her hand into his, thrilled by his touch.
He was clearly not used to walking in sand; stomping did not work, and though his balance was excellent, he floundered through it with brute force rather than grace. Lydia led him down to where the water had hardened the sand, and the walking was easier.
They passed one other couple braving the moonlight, then had the sand to themselves.
Across the crescent of pale sand, away from the lights of the resort, Lydia took Wrench up the bank to a place under the trees, right next to a downed trunk. A pile of discarded beach treasure had been accumulated in a heap nearby: broken shells and bits of coral and colored rock.
Wrench looked up sensibly. “Should we worry about coconuts or something?” he asked.
“Not here,” Lydia assured him. She went to take the basket from him, nearly dropping it due to its unexpected weight.
Then she spread out the feast.
A blanket went down over the scrubby sand, corners weighted by bottles of beer (for Wrench) and a bottle of ginger ale (for Lydia). “They don’t usually let people bring glass to the beach,” Lydia said to Wrench appraisingly. “But there are perks to working here.”
“You break it, you rake it,” Wrench repeated Bastian’s familiar warning.
He pulled out a little electric lantern and set it up while Lydia unpacked the food. There were sandwiches for each of them—Wrench’s was almost entirely red roast beef and hers was a leafy vegetable and hummus concoction drizzled with truffle oil and red wine vinegar. The bread was thick and fresh and fluffy.
Chef’s twice mashed potato coins were as good cold as they wer
e hot, and were paired with a lightly fermented cabbage salad with carrots and beets. There were two generous slices of a spicy pecan pie for dessert.
“Oof,” Lydia said, once she had inhaled everything and licked all the last crumbs from her fingers. “That was amazing.”
“Better than I expected,” Wrench agreed, his own food gone just as fast.
She scooted a little closer to him on the blanket, so they were both leaning against the downed tree trunk. “Well done, Warren,” she told him. “This date’s already got an A, and there’s still a chance for extra credit.”
Wrench gave a guffaw of laughter that surprised them both. “Long as you ain’t going to ask me to move again for a bit,” he said. “I ain’t put down a sandwich that size since I was a teenager.”
This would have been the point where anyone else would have put an arm around her, but Wrench didn’t offer to. Lydia wondered if he would move away if she scooted closer. The heat that radiated from his side was magnetic.
“I plan to go nowhere for a while,” Lydia agreed. Before them, the moonlight reflected in shimmering ripples off the ocean surface. Frogs and insects made a familiar drone in the air. If it weren’t for the new need growing in her core, Lydia would have been utterly content to spend hours here.
Then there was an odd rumble, and the ground beneath them gave a buck and a growl and shook like a dog coming out of water.
Lydia and Wrench tried to stand, and failed, each ending up on their knees as the motion finally subsided. Wrench wrapped his arms around Lydia, holding her tight and tucking her under him as big leaves and small fruit pattered down all around them.
Chapter 19
A resident of Southern California, Wrench was no stranger to earthquakes.
It still left his knees feeling like water and his jaw clenched like iron, and he was reluctant to let go of Lydia until she squirmed in protest.
“Well, Warren, I’m awake now,” she said shakily as he slowly let her go.