TEX (Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Holiday Heat Book 2)

by Hailey Storm

  “I guess I set myself up for that one with my hat and boots, huh?” A wide grin formed on my face, one that ate away my nerves and steadied my wolf.

  After closing her door, I rushed around to the driver side, ready to crank the engine and get the night rolling. It seemed to be going well so far, and I wanted to make sure it continued.

  I could hear Lilla’s teeth chattering when I climbed behind the wheel. Her body shook with chills.

  “The heat doesn’t take too long to warm up. Promise,” I said as I put the keys in the ignition and turned.

  “How is it you don’t look cold at all?”

  My truck started on the first try. Thank God.

  “Because I’m a man, darlin’.” I winked.

  “That you are.”

  Her eyes trailed over me. My blood heated as the scent of her arousal trickled into the cab. A howl erupted from my wolf and I was forced to restrain him. He wanted nothing more than to Claim Lilla right here and now.

  I turned up the heat a couple notches and shifted into reverse. By the time we made it to the end of Lilla’s street I was able to crank it up full blast. From the corner of my eye, I noticed when she stopped shaking and felt a sense of satisfaction slither through me at having played a part in making her warm. Taking care of her was the only thing on my mind.

  We lapsed into silence, but it didn’t bother me. While I’d been afraid it would happen at some point tonight and feel awkward, I was surprised to find it felt so comfortable. Lilla didn’t seem bothered by listening to music instead of holding a conversation, which was good. I relaxed in my seat and loosened my grip on the steering wheel.

  The next song that came on the radio was a favorite of mine. I reached out to turn it up at the same time Lilla did the same. Our fingers brushed one another’s and an electrical jolt zipped through me the instant we made contact. A gasp slipped past Lilla’s parted lips that intensified what I felt and let me know she’d felt it too.

  I knew without a doubt right then and there Lilla was my mate.

  The first time at the diner could have been static electricity. This time, however, I knew what it signified. My wolf enjoyed this revelation.

  “Sorry, I must have picked up some static electricity,” she whispered.

  I took my eyes off the road to glance at her, wanting to take in her reaction to what had happened. Confusion seemed to be spreading across her face as she rubbed the area where our fingers had touched and sank her teeth into her bottom lip. It was clear she didn’t believe her own words.

  “It’s okay,” I said, utterly unable to hide the smile forming on my face.

  I reached to turn the song up again. This time Lilla remained where she was.

  I pulled into a parking space outside the café minutes later. White and pink lights lined the windows, giving the place a Valentine’s Day feel. My gaze drifted inside the windows, spotting crepe paper in the same colors draped from the ceiling. The place wasn’t packed wall to wall, but it was busier than I’d assumed it would be.

  Maybe coffee dates on Valentine’s Day were more popular than I’d thought.

  “Do you come here often?” Lilla asked when I held the door open for her and she stepped inside the sweet-scented place.

  “I do.”

  Her eyes snapped to mine as though she thought I was lying. “Really? It doesn’t seem like a place you’d hang out.”

  “Why is that? Do cowboys not seem like the type who enjoy coffee?” I took my hat off as we walked toward the back, where the barista stood behind the counter.

  Lilla’s cheeks tinted pink, but she held my stare. “No, that’s not it. I just pictured you hanging around rustic places. Maybe a bar. Definitely not a coffeehouse, though.”

  “I do happen to prefer bars more.” I winked.

  We found a place in line and fell into silence once more. Again, it was comfortable. I watched Lilla out of the corner of my eye as she glanced around, soaking in the décor. A guy with a guitar set up on the tiny stage in the corner started strumming his heart out. Words to a song I’d never heard sprang from his lips.

  “He’s pretty good,” Lilla insisted.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  It wasn’t a lie. The guy had talent. Not only in the way he played, but his voice was decent too.

  When the song finished, he stepped down from the stage, taking his guitar with him, and found a seat at one of the tables already occupied by a woman. There were tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her face. It dawned on me then that he’d sang the love song to her.

  A young girl climbed on stage next with a scrap of notebook paper gripped in her hand too tightly. She wore nothing but black and had me questioning whether she was mourning the death of someone or just plain goth.

  “See, now that’s the type of person I would expect to see in a coffee house like this.” Lilla nodded in the girl’s direction.

  I smiled, but didn’t respond. The young girl had captured my attention. She was definitely the epitome of a coffee house customer. I waited for her to slam Valentine’s Day with a dark sense of humor. When she opened her mouth and a heartfelt, mushy poem targeting Valentine’s Day fell from her dark-painted lips, it was all I could do to not laugh.

  “Don’t laugh,” Lilla scolded me as she shoved me playfully. “There’s a level of braveness that little girl harbors I envy. It takes guts to get up on a stage and read something you’ve written in front of complete strangers. Art takes courage, no matter its form.”

  The grin disappeared from my face as my interest in Lilla was piqued.

  “Said like a true artist.” I narrowed my eyes on her. “What type of paintings do you create?”

  “Who said I painted?”

  “No one,” I said as we moved closer toward the barista. “I’ve seen you at the diner a couple of times with paint on your hands.”

  Her head tipped to the side as her bright-green eyes latched on me. “You’re perceptive. I never have been. I don’t observe my surroundings and I’ve never been a good judge of character either.” She bit down on her bottom lip as though she’d said more than she cared to.

  “It’s a natural born instinct,” I said feeling good at having told her something so truthful. Being perceptive came with being a wolf. “Now back to your paintings…”

  Her head tipped back and she laughed. Damn, this woman was stunning. I was the luckiest man alive to be sharing this evening with her.

  “Murals. I paint murals.”

  This didn’t surprise me. I figured whatever she painted would be big and passionate.

  “What kind of murals?” I needed more details. There was something inside me that craved to know more about this side of her.

  “Whatever kind I’m hired to. My last one was in a children’s doctor office. He had me do two of the three rooms he uses to see patients. I did a colorful jungle theme in one, and an underwater theme in another. I have some pictures if you want to see.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.” I meant it too. Any piece of Lilla she was willing to share with me tonight, I would accept.

  She dug around in her leather purse for her cell phone. Once she found it she pulled the pictures up and handed it to me. I could tell she was careful not to touch her fingers to mine, though.

  I scrolled through the pictures, amazed by her level of skill. She had talent.

  Excited energy stemmed from her as she told me about each mural. She was as passionate about painting as I thought she would be.

  It made me wonder why she was waiting tables at Gilbert’s.

  “I’m not one hundred percent happy with the monkey in the jungle room, but I think the underwater mural is spot on for my vision.”

  “These are great. You really have talent.” I handed her cell back. “You mentioned there were three rooms. What are you doing in the other one?”

  “I am not sure if I’m doing anything, actually. Dr. Brenner hasn’t asked me to do a third mural like I hoped he would,” she said withou
t meeting my gaze. It was clear this upset her, but she was trying to hide it. I could smell her disappointment.

  “He’s a fool if he doesn’t.”

  “I guess.” Lilla shifted her attention to the barista waiting to take our order.

  The barista spewed her standard greeting, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was solely focused on Lilla. Her beautiful green eyes. Her wide smile. The way her face lit up when she’d talked about her paintings.

  Damn, this woman was going to be the death of me.

  Chapter Nine

  Lilla

  After placing an order for a caramel something or other that was on the chalkboard as a special, I also ordered a red velvet cupcake since Tex had said I could get whatever I wanted. Normally I’d be worried about the calories and sugar hidden in both of my treats, but not tonight. It was Valentine’s Day, for crying out loud. Plus, it was the first one I’d spent out of the house with someone who looked as though they wanted to be in my company in forever.

  It felt amazing. Really amazing.

  While I appreciated the way Tex seemed to be genuinely interested in my paintings, that wasn’t the only thing that had me floating on cloud nine because of him tonight. It was that he seemed truly interested in me.

  Period.

  When he looked at me, he really saw me. He paid attention to what I said, didn’t offer any harsh commentary, and at times seemed almost turned on by me. I had to admit, feeling wanted by another man after the rough patch I’d been through with Bret felt fantastic!

  “Just a coffee and a cupcake? Are you sure that’s all you want?” Tex asked. His words were sweet. They were free of judgment and ridicule, unlike the way Bret would have used when asking the same questions.

  “Nope, that’s all. Thanks.” I grabbed my order and cast a sideways glance at him. “You’re not ordering a cupcake or anything?”

  “No, sweets aren’t my thing.”

  “Obviously.” I nodded to his coffee. While he’d asked for two sugars and one cream, it still wouldn’t have come close to the amount of sweetness I enjoyed in my coffee.

  “What? I added some sweetness in. It’s not straight black.”

  “It’s close, though,” I said as I started toward a table tucked against the far wall.

  A loud sigh of relief left Tex, causing me to glance over my shoulder at him.

  “Thank goodness, I thought you were gonna pick the table in front of the window.”

  “I was.” I set my cupcake and coffee on the metal table and scooted out the chair. “But, then I saw this one and figured it was more your style.”

  “See, you’re more perceptive than you realize,” he was quick to point out with a smirk as he situated himself in the opposite chair.

  “Touché.”

  Music started up through tiny speakers in the ceiling of the café. It wasn’t a song I knew, but it didn’t stop me from dancing in my seat to the beat as I picked at my cupcake.

  “I guess everyone who had something they wanted to share with their valentine has already done so.” Tex popped the top off his coffee and sat it on the tabletop beside it. I watched as the steam lifted into the air, forming white swirls before disappearing in front of his face.

  “I guess so. You didn’t have anything to share?” I teased.

  “The night is still young, darlin’.” He winked, sending goose bumps prickling across my skin. There was something about the way he called me darlin’ that really did things to me.

  We lapsed into a moment of silence. It wasn’t as comfortable as the few we’d previously found ourselves in tonight. I assumed it was because I was the only one with food in front of me. Maybe I shouldn’t have opted for a cupcake. I should have stuck with coffee like him. The way he was watching me eat was making me nervous. His golden eyes flashed with a strange sense of satisfaction, as though he was getting some form of pride from having fed me.

  “So, you know that I work at the diner and I paint murals on the side. You know I like super-sweet coffee and red velvet cupcakes,” I said, lifting my gaze to meet with his. “But somehow, I know nothing about you.”

  “That’s not true. You know I like my coffee a lot less sweet than yours. You know I drive an old beat-up truck. You know I like wearing my hat and cowboy boots. And you know what my three favorite meals at the diner are by heart. I’d say you know more about me than I do you.”

  “Okay, you have a point. What would you like to know about me then?” I took a small sip from my coffee, testing to see how hot it was. The caramel sweetness coated my throat. It was hot, but not too hot.

  “What’s your favorite day of the week?”

  “Sunday,” I answered as quickly as he’d asked.

  “Why?”

  “It’s the laziest day of the week for me. Gilbert’s is closed so there’s no chance of being called in.” I stopped myself before I could add on that it was the only day of the week I was able to spend with my daughter watching too much TV and cuddling on the couch.

  Was it too soon in the night to tell him I had a kid? I did have to tell him at some point tonight, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure what the rules for this situation were. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if there were any. Erica hadn’t been any help in that department. She was happily married to the father of her two kids and never had to worry about being a single mom in the dating world.

  “What? You look like there’s something else you want to add,” he surprised me by saying.

  Damn, he really was perceptive. Definitely not someone you wanted to play poker against. Not that I knew how to play the game.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “All right, what’s your favorite color?”

  “Red.” He eyed me as though my answer surprised him. “Not the color you were expecting?” It wasn’t like I’d said rainbow, which was the answer Izzy always gave whenever someone asked her.

  “I figured it would be yellow.”

  “Yellow?” Where did he get yellow from?

  “Yeah, your front door was painted yellow. You also had yellow sunflowers on your welcome mat. There were also a couple yellow decorations inside the house as well. I just assumed it was your favorite.”

  Perceptive. I wondered if he’d noticed anything else—like the coloring book and crayons left on the couch or the pink polka dot bin filled with dolls left on the living room floor. Maybe telling him I had a kid wouldn’t be so hard.

  “Oh, yellow is my mom’s favorite color. I live with her.” The words tumbled from my lips before my brain could stop me.

  Admitting you still lived with your mother while you were in your thirties had to be one of the most embarrassing things to say on the first date. I could feel the heat rising up my neck and pooling in my cheeks. I tore off another piece of my cupcake and popped it in my mouth. The sweetness bursting across my tongue was delightful, but it didn’t release enough endorphins to calm my nervous system.

  “That makes sense. I didn’t realize you lived with your mom, though. You must have a good relationship with her,” he added before taking another sip from his coffee. I was amazed at the way his liquid-gold eyes heated, not with judgment but with interest. Did he and his own mother not have a good relationship?

  “We do. She’s like my best friend,” I said as I shoved the rest of my cupcake away, knowing I really shouldn’t eat the rest of it. “That’s not why live with her, though.”

  Crap, I’d said too much and because of it our date was about to go downhill fast.

  “Then why do you live with her? Is she sick?” Concern puckered the area between his brows and my heart melted.

  Out of all the years I’d been with Bret, he’d never once shown any level of compassion toward my mother. And yet, here was this guy who barely knew me asking if she was sick with genuine concern etched onto his face.

  “No, she’s not sick.” I pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I live with her because I left my husband a few months ago and I haven’t been able to
afford to get my own place yet.”

  Again, I almost added something in about Izzy, but figured telling him I had a husband and was poor seemed like enough for one sentence.

  I took a sip of my coffee, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to leave your husband?”

  His tone changed to something tension-filled. It caused me to shift my gaze to him again. His jaw had grown stiff and his golden eyes seemed to have darkened.

  “It’s fine,” I said, because it was. The more I talked about what happened, the easier it was for me to remember it hadn’t been my fault and that it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Divorce happened sometimes. At least, that’s what my therapist said. “It’s sort of a long story…”

  “We have all night.”

  “True.” I wiped my palms on my jeans, wondering where I should start. “Bret, my soon-to-be ex-husband, started out as a decent guy but somewhere over the years he changed. He became verbally abusive, and it eventually led to physical abuse.” I gave him the short and sweet answer, only because I noticed his grip tighten on his coffee cup. Any tighter and his fingers would poke right through the Styrofoam. It was clear he didn’t like what he was hearing, so I figured it was best to sum things up simply.

  “How many times, and how long did it take you before you finally decided to leave?” There was something about the way he asked the question that had me wondering if it was based out of more than general curiosity and a need to keep conversation flowing.

  “I put up with the verbal abuse for years. It started out small. Just a phrase or derogatory statement here and there. After I gave birth to our daughter, and I was unable to lose the extra baby weight, the verbal abuse hit an all-new high.” The words flew past my lips so smoothly I hadn’t realized I’d mentioned Izzy until it was too late. Tex either hadn’t caught the reference or he didn’t care. Relief flooded me and I pressed forward with my story. “One day we were in an argument and he just reared back and punched me across the jaw. I packed my stuff and our daughter’s and headed to my mom’s house without a second thought. I knew I didn’t want to raise my daughter in an environment like that. Somewhere deep down, I knew I deserved better and so did she. So, I left.”