Sunset Glade Panthers: The Original Trilogy and Epilogue

by Sennah Tate

  “Morning sleepyhead, are you excited for your first day as a working stiff?” she teased.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders and rested his chin on the back of her chair, stooping down to see what she was doing.

  “It’s just a diner,” he muttered, “what are you writing?”

  “But you’re going to be the head chef at Elle’s! Hailey said she wants you to revamp the whole menu. It’s going to be amazing,” she gushed, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair lovingly.

  “Uh huh. Are you quitting your job?”

  The devoted look in his eyes never failed to take her breath away.

  “It would be an awfully long commute to work in Tampa and live here…”

  He kissed her.

  “So is it official then? You’re staying?”

  She quirked a brow, “I don’t know… I might need some more convincing…”

  He pulled her up by the hand and wrapped her in his arms, showering her with kisses that quickly turned heated as his hands drifted lower.

  “I’ll convince you all day every day,” he said, nipping at the base of her neck, trailing delicate kisses over her collarbone.

  “But not today, you have to work!”

  He laughed; his jovial expression faded as he sniffed the air, “Is something burning?”

  “Shit! The bacon!” Elena broke free from his embrace to tend to the now-charred breakfast.

  She came back with a pout, “I may have ruined your breakfast. I’m sorry, I wanted to send you off with a fully belly.”

  Benny laughed and swept her into his arms, carting her off to the bedroom with her squeals of delighted laughter trailing behind them.

  “Let’s see if we can find a way for you to make it up to me.”

  THE END.

  Sunset Glade Holiday

  Chapter One

  Tucker

  “Order up!” Benny called as he smacked the little bell in the diner’s window. The waitress bustled behind the counter, grabbed the omelette, and delivered it to her table with a smile.

  Tucker sat at the breakfast counter with a mug of lukewarm coffee in front of him, staring out the front windows of the diner. Outside, a breeze carried dry leaves skittering down the street. The freshly painted playground was full of kids on break from school and Tucker smiled. One day his little boy or girl would be out there playing, too.

  He couldn’t wait. Gabi was only a few months pregnant, but Tucker already had plans for the next Christmas: a cute little stocking on the mantle, taking the baby to see Santa… It couldn’t come soon enough.

  Christmas. How had it shown up so quickly? It seemed like only yesterday he was hiding his brother’s secret and his own. Now, they didn’t really have secrets. They all had their own family and everyone seemed to be happy.

  A plate clattered in front of him and Benny stood on the other side of the counter with his arms folded across his chest, waiting.

  Tucker frowned at the slice of cake on the small plate.

  “How many more of these am I going to have to try?” he groaned. Normally his brother’s cooking was amazing, but not even Benny’s skill could fix this.

  Ben laughed and handed him a fork.

  “Just try it. Hailey wants a holiday dessert on the menu and I need to make sure it’s up to snuff,” he nodded his head, encouraging Tucker to eat again.

  Tucker groaned, “No one likes fruit cake. Why don’t you just make a pie or something?”

  “I like the challenge.”

  “You can’t make this stuff edible,” Tucker said, poking the fruit cake with his fork, pushing it around the plate, “No matter how many tries you take.”

  Ben’s brow furrowed in annoyance and he let out an irritated breath, “Will you just take a bite already?”

  Tucker sighed, and took a bite, immediately making a face.

  “Too orangey,” he said smacking his lips before taking a long swig of his stale coffee.

  Ben said nothing, but went into the kitchen and Tucker distinctly heard the sound of an entire cake being tossed in the trash. He suddenly felt guilty for being so honest. Benny wasn’t used to anything less than perfection in the kitchen and Tucker had never had to tell him that something didn’t taste right before the great hunt for the perfect fruit cake had consumed him.

  “Don’t take it personally, Ben,” he called through the window.

  Ben walked back out of the kitchen and leaned against the back wall casually. The diner wasn’t very busy at this time of day — not so close to the holiday.

  That reminded him…

  “What are you getting Elena for Christmas?” Tucker asked.

  “Not sure yet. She won’t give me any ideas.”

  “Damn, I was hoping you’d have an idea for Gabi.”

  Ben chuckled, “I think you’ve given her plenty judging by that bump she’s sporting,” he smirked.

  Tucker’s eyes widened, “Don’t say stuff like that around her. She’s really sensitive about her little pregnancy belly.”

  Right on cue, the bell above the door jangled and Gabi hurried in, shivering as she approached.

  Tucker shot his brother a quick glance and Benny mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

  “Hey sweetheart,” Tucker said, standing to give Gabi a kiss and help her out of her puffy winter coat.

  “It’s only fifty degrees out,” Benny joked, “what would you do if it got actually cold here?”

  Gabi pouted, “I guess it’s good that we’ll never find out. Being a Floridian has its perks. Besides, I don’t get to have a fur coat at will like you two.”

  “Touche,” said Ben.

  “If you’re cold when it’s fifty, I’d hate to see you in the snow,” Tucker teased as she slid onto the seat next to him and his hand moved to her thigh possessively.

  Gabi shrugged, “I’ve never seen snow.”

  “Never ever?” he asked, surprised.

  “Nope. I’m sure it’s pretty and all, but I don’t fare well in the cold,” she reminded him, “Ben, the baby’s huuuuuuuuungry.” Gabi rubbed her belly absently and Tucker warmed all over. This was his family. His mate. His baby. This was going to be the best Christmas ever for him and he needed to make sure it would be the same for Gabs.

  “What does the baby want?” Benny asked, thoroughly used to fulfilling the every culinary whim of the pregnant woman.

  “Um… French toast. Pancakes. Bacon and some sausage gravy.”

  Tucker started to snicker but quickly covered it with a cough.

  “Oh, is that all?” Ben teased.

  Gabi shot them both a look that dared them to comment on her eating habits.

  Luckily, they were both smart enough to keep their mouths shut and let Gabi eat in peace.

  Chapter Two

  Brock

  The table in front of Brock was littered with springs, screws and other little mechanical doodads — the guts of his girlfriend’s hair dryer. It seemed there was never a day when she didn’t have something that needed his talented hands for a repair. Occasionally, he suspected that she broke things on purpose to give him something to do.

  Hailey took care of him like that. She knew it wasn’t easy for him to give up his old life and she did her best to make sure his new life was so great that he never looked back.

  He started to reassemble the hair dryer and plugged it in with a hopeful breath.

  It started whirring immediately, blowing a stack of napkins off his table. He smiled, satisfied with his handiwork. Until he turned it on high.

  The blow dryer hummed, wheezed, and sizzled before there was a loud pop from the outlet and the lights in the diner dimmed momentarily.

  The handful of people in the diner raised their eyebrows at him, but Brock managed to remember how to scowl — the once common expression was foreign to him these days.

  “What are you doing out there?” Hailey called from the back room, a mixture of amusement and annoyance in her voice.

 
“What are you doing back there?” he countered, deflecting his mate’s attention away from his error.

  He heard her rummage around a bit more, the sound of boxes falling, things being pushed around and finally, her heavy footsteps as she came around the corner with her arms overloaded.

  “What’s all that?” Brock asked, looking for any sight of his loved one under the mass of garland and ribbon.

  “What does it look like?” Hailey thrust most of her bounty into Brock’s arms.

  “It looks like a Christmas tree just threw up,” he said, throwing the stuff on the table with an expression like it was rotting. Actually, he’d probably be less disgusted with something rotting.

  “Come on,” Hailey said brightly, nudging him on the shoulder, “It’s time to decorate for the holidays! Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a grinch,” she pouted, tugging at his guilty conscience in a way that only she had ever been able to do.

  But she wasn’t going to win this one. Holidays were stupid. He’d never had much of a family — well, he had folks, but they were more panther than people — and they never made a big deal out of holidays. Or any deal at all.

  Brock never understood the whole story, either. Why would anyone ever want a fat man to break into their house? Let alone leave him a snack for his trouble. Then again… Santa supposedly brought gifts, but only to those who were good.

  He didn’t think he’d make the ‘Nice’ list, even with Hailey’s influence.

  “So what if I am?” he asked only half-serious.

  Hailey frowned and he instantly regretted the tease. He never wanted to see her frown, even if they were just playing around.

  “Well, I just thought since neither of us grew up with Christmas traditions that we could start our own… together,” she said innocently, eyes wide even as she gingerly set the boxes of baubles on the table with the garland.

  Damn her. She knew how to press all the right buttons. Hailey’s upbringing had been even more sheltered than his and all she’d wanted since he’d met her was to make up for all of the lost experiences. He couldn’t deprive her of that.

  Brock rolled his eyes and gave Hailey a lop-sided grin, “Even if I were to agree to this, we still have one little problem.”

  “What’s that?” she asked perking up a bit.

  “I have no idea how to decorate anything.”

  Hailey’s face split into a wide grin and Brock knew he’d made the right choice. He’d do anything to see that beaming smile — even decorate for Christmas.

  Unbelievable.

  “I think we can work around that. Ever hung party streamers?”

  “I teepeed my Principal’s house once does that count?”

  Hailey gave him a confused frown, “What’s that one again? I know it’s something criminal.”

  He had to laugh at that. She was often appalled by the casual way he discussed his shady past, “T.P. stands for toilet paper, we kind of covered his house,” Brock chuckled at the memory, “and then we—” he looked to Hailey and thought better of that part of the story, “nevermind. Enough about my days as a hoodlum. Let’s deck the halls!”

  She gave him a smugly skeptical look and nodded as she ‘mmhmm’ed at him. Changing the subject wouldn’t fool her.

  That was okay, though. He didn’t have to fool Hailey. He’d never had to. He could just be himself with her and that’s why he was going to suck it up and get into the Christmas spirit with the love of his life.

  Hey, maybe he could even convince her to get on the ladder so he could spot her — with his hand on her ass of course.

  Yeah, decorating could be fun.

  Chapter Three

  Elena

  Sun-bleached porch planks creaked underfoot as Elena climbed the front steps and knocked on the screen door frame with one knuckle.

  “Aunt Bea? I’m a little early,” she called through the door.

  In no time at all, her cheerful elderly aunt open the door and ushered her inside, “Well, I’m never gonna complain about getting more time with my Lainey.”

  Elena smiled and followed Bea inside.

  “I was just about to sit and have a glass of iced tea and a biscuit, would you like to join me?”

  “Of course.” No one could resist Bea’s biscuits. If they could, Elena would strongly suspect they were an alien.

  Aunt Bea poured them each a glass filled to the brim with ice cubes before she added the sweet tea. Elena took a deep gulp before sinking into a kitchen chair.

  “So…?” Bea prompted.

  “So?” Elena feigned innocence.

  “Are you going to tell me what you’re worried about or make me pull it out of you?”

  Elena said nothing.

  Her aunt’s face morphed a little before her eyes — Elena had to deal with that pretty often with her special brand of magical powers.

  “Well, let’s see… If it was about your job, you wouldn’t be talking to me, you’d be talking to your fiance. If it was about your fiance, you’d be talking to your girlfriends. So it must be about your magic.”

  Elena frowned. Was she really that transparent?

  “Out with it,” Bea urged, taking a bite out of her buttered biscuit with orange marmalade.

  Elena sighed and rested her chin in her hands. She didn’t want to admit her problems. She felt like she was somehow failing her aunt by not being in complete control of her magic yet. But she knew Bea could help… If anyone could.

  “Well… I’ve felt really… drained lately. Like my batteries are dying.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  Elena pushed back a wave of anger; she’d been fretting over this conversation for the better part of a week and all Bea said was ‘that’s all’?

  “What do you mean ‘is that all’? I’m having a lot of trouble making any magic happen lately.”

  Bea patted her hand, “You’re a new witch, honey. You don’t have great control over using and storing your power. Later on, it’ll come naturally, but for now, you’ll have to recharge your stores manually.”

  “Manually?”

  Bea nodded.

  “What does that mean, exactly,” Elena asked, wondering if being cryptic was a requirement to be a witch.

  “Focused meditation, here, I’ll help you,” Bea said, her voice growing softer until it was only a whisper.

  “Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and listen to my voice.”

  Elena fidgeted in her seat. She’d never been one for all this new age stuff like meditation. But she always trusted her Aunt Bea so she did as she was told.

  “Imagine you’re a leaf,” Aunt Bea said softly, “a leaf that is drifting on the wind. You don’t know where you’re going, but that’s okay. You don’t have anywhere you need to be. You have no responsibilities, no worries. Your only purpose is to exist. You let the wind carry you because you like the feel of the breeze and you drift closer to earth, slowing and dancing as the air picks you up once more. It’s a game. Up and down, drifting to and fro…”

  Elena liked the vivid picture in her mind. She imagined clear blue skies, a bright sun, birds tweeting in the trees. She lost herself to the vision, carrying on through her imaginary world, traveling wherever the wind happened to take her. It was wonderful.

  Finally, she — as in the leaf — touched the surface of a still pond before it sank below the surface, settling on the rocky bottom.

  Elena opened her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her lungs completely before she exhaled, feeling refreshed and more awake than ever.

  “Better?” Aunt Bea asked from the kitchen where she stood over a bubbling pot, stirring. Elena hadn’t heard her get up and never noticed that pot on the stove before…

  “Yeah, actually. A lot better,” she admitted.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Elena pulled it free, expecting to see her fiance’s name on the caller ID. Instead she saw his brother’s.

  “Tucker? What’s up? Oh, really? That’s a great idea. No… yeah, I can de
finitely help you with that. What time? Sounds good, see you there.”

  She hung up the phone with a smile on her face and Bea pulled a face, “What’s that about?”

  “He wants my help with a present for his girlfriend. I couldn’t say no of course.”

  Bea chuckled, “Of course.”

  Elena took a drink of her tea and nearly choked — all the ice was melted and the glass sat in a puddle of condensation.

  Her aunt noticed the look of confusion and decided to chime in without waiting for Elena to ask, “It’s easy to lose yourself in the meditation. Time fades away… Just keep that in mind.”

  “Huh… okay,” said Elena as she stood and walked to the freezer for more ice. Bea stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

  “Why don’t you test your stores now?”

  Elena made a face at the tea and stirred the drink with her finger. The glass frosted and ice chips formed in the drink.

  “Much better,” she said, taking a long drink before poking her head over Bea’s stooped shoulders to get a good look at whatever was bubbling on the stove.

  “Mmmm, is that your spaghetti? Yes, please.”

  “Even better, Chicken Parmesan,” said Bea proudly.

  “Benny’s been giving you lessons, has he?” Elena accused with a laugh.

  Bea shrugged, looking away as her wrinkled face flushed ever so slightly, “I’ve had enough swamp food to last a lifetime. Italian’s a nice change.”

  Elena made herself a plate and started wolfing it down even as it burned her mouth.

  “Slow down, kiddo. Isn’t that fancy chef fiance of yours feeding you any more?”

  It was Elena’s turn to flush, “No… he is,” she paused, swallowing another big bite, “But if I have to try one more fruit cake, I might lose my mind. At least this way, I can say I’ve already eaten.”

  Bea finally sat with her own plate and a tall glass of ice cold milk, “You know, if you don’t like fruit cake, you could try wedding cake instead. I’ve heard there’s nothing more precious than a Christmas wedding.”