Cougar's Gift: Pacific Northwest Cougars: (Shifter Romance)

by Moxie North

  They were alone outside, her folks at least being smart enough to leave them alone to say goodbye.

  “I’m not working tomorrow,” he said.

  “You’re not? Why did you say you were?” she asked.

  “So we could have some time together. Can you meet me?” he asked, pulling her tight against his chest. He could feel her heart pounding against his. It calmed his cat.

  “Sure, I’m usually out and about on Saturdays,” she said. A day with Stryker, it was almost too easy.

  “Meet me at the library at nine, yeah? And wear pants,” he amended.

  “Pants?” she said curiously.

  “Yes, I don’t want those skirts getting stuck in the wheels of my bike,” he explained.

  Libby nodded and stared up at him. Stryker ran his hands down her cheeks. Rubbing over the apple and feeling the blush even before he saw it.

  “I’ll miss you tonight, mouse,” he said softly.

  “Me too,” she said. She really wanted a kiss. She was sure he wouldn’t leave without giving her one. But she was impatient.

  “Dream about me, mouse.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. She was without a doubt going to think about him all night. She had plans to make and courage to garner.

  “Are you going to dream about me?” she asked.

  “No, I’ll probably think of you while I jack off though,” he said.

  Libby knew she should have been shocked by that, but she was instead turned on. The wetness between her legs was a clear sign that her body knew how much she wanted Stryker.

  “Thank you? I think?” she gave him a little laugh.

  “I better go. Meet me tomorrow,” he said low, then finally, finally, kissed her. It left her weak-kneed and whimpering.

  “Go back inside, mouse,” he said roughly, pointing her towards the house and giving her a little shove.

  Libby didn’t want to go, but she knew her parents were probably peeking through the windows even now. She turned away from him reluctantly and moved along the stepping stone path her mother had made between the garden beds.

  She shot one last look at him before walking back into the house. The roar of his motorcycle was her lullaby for the night.

  Chapter 23

  Libby barely slept, but she was confident in her decision to make Stryker the one for her. At least in the short term.

  She wasn’t thinking that there would be an angel chorus singing in the background her first time. But she was certain that her body would sing a happy tune getting to spend any time in bed with Stryker.

  Waking up at the crack of dawn she had some time to kill. Putting into action ‘Libby gettin’ some’ meant she needed to be prepared for any possibility.

  So she took a long shower and made sure to shave those hard to reach places. She could admit that there would be long stretches of below the knee only shaving in the colder months. She also gave herself a quick mani/pedi to make her feel polished, so to speak.

  Lastly, she made sure there were condoms in her purse and that they weren’t expired. Lucky for her they had a few more months on them.

  She’d gotten them from the health department last time they had a blood donation event. She figured… save a life donate blood. Save her own by not getting some disease.

  Libby tried to act normal as she went down to breakfast. Her mom and dad were sitting around the table, their slow Saturday morning routine.

  It involved a rundown of their week’s activities. Her father’s work minus the patient info. Her mother talking about plants, some new canning method, or her secret addiction to reality TV. She’d caught her mom watching it on her laptop once and didn’t tell her she knew.

  After Libby hit high school they had let up a little on the TV restriction. By then, Libby wasn’t interested so they never actually got one. Being able to watch just about anything over the internet made her rare splurges into the world of do-it-yourself shows possible.

  “Morning,” she called out, grabbing the container of granola and some coconut milk out of the fridge. This was another one of those meals that she actually liked. Mostly because it tasted like a giant bowl of sugar.

  “Morning, Liberty,” her father called out. He didn’t look up from the botany book he was looking through. Probably looking for some unknown cure for gout that nobody had discovered.

  “Sleep well, sweetie?” her mother asked, looking away from her father who she’d been staring at.

  Libby always liked that. Her parents weren’t the outwardly mushy types. They usually spent their time apart. But they both liked each other.

  They had this almost fascination with each other. She’d catch them staring at the other sometimes. They’d have funny looks on their faces that she couldn’t decipher. She chalked it up to their slightly insane, but still caring attitudes.

  “Yeah, not too bad.” She poured her bowl of cereal.

  “Your friend, he needs some serious work done. Do you think he’d come over and let me work on his chakras? I think if we can get those realigned we might be able to sort out his aura. Butterfly suggested if that didn’t work maybe we should try some purgatives. Let him barf up whatever is ailing him.”

  Butterfly was one of her mother’s friends. She was always bringing over pieces of bark or a rock that “spoke” to her. She would tell Libby it had special qualities and to keep it close.

  Libby always accepted these items with a smile, then added them to her fairies garden she’d built as a child. She didn’t believe in the magic rock, but she knew Butterfly was giving her a gift that she thought had value. That was good enough reason to be gracious.

  “You are not giving him anything to make him puke or poop himself unconscious. I still remember what you did to me,” Libby grumbled.

  “Honey, that was just a mild elixir to get rid of your dandruff. It went away didn’t it?” her mother chided.

  “And I lost half a head of hair mom. I had to wear a hat for a year,” she screeched.

  “Don’t exaggerate, it was one tiny bald spot. I’m not even sure the two were connected,” her mother sniffed.

  “I really don’t think Stryker needs you meddling in his affairs, mother,” she said, spooning more cereal in her mouth so she didn’t scream.

  “Oh what, is he a dragon? That is the only creature’s affairs I don’t meddle in,” her mother smarted.

  “That’s because you are crunchy and good with ketchup,” her father intoned solemnly from the end of the table.

  It was a long-standing family joke. Her mother went through a big dragon phase when Libby was younger. They were everywhere. Figurines, paintings, and a sign that said the part about ketchup.

  Her mother thought it was a hoot. Luckily, dragons didn’t last long, she’d moved on to making her own wool yarn after that. It was a very scratchy year for Libby.

  “I’m going to go out, maybe catch the bus into town to check out the used bookstore,” Libby threw out. This was not an uncommon thing for her to do. A forty-minute bus ride and she was in a city big enough to have a shopping mall. Every fast food joint you could think of and lots of bookstores.

  She would spend her days wandering through her favorite ones then she’d find the most horrendous fast food joint offering the craziest limited time only creation and stuff herself silly.

  “Sorry, Stryker had to work today dear,” her mother said. She actually sounded like she meant it.

  “I didn’t think you liked him,” Libby said to her mother, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “I didn’t know him, now I’ve met him. Although I’m not thrilled by his age. He seems very mature and he has a very old soul. Old souls are always trustworthy,” her mother intoned.

  And that’s how it was with her parents, terrified of the new until they could put it in a safe little box. After that they moved on to something else.

  “Nice young man,” her father replied still not looking up from his book. If her mother was on board her father followed quickly.
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  He didn’t like conflict, like ever. So if he could appease his wife and/or daughter he would agree with whatever they wanted. Her father wasn’t a wimp, so to speak, he was just a pacifist in every sense of the word.

  Apparently all her worries about them not liking Stryker, or more importantly not liking him for her, were washed away. She was trying to think if he said something magical to them last night or hypnotized them into falling for his charms. But he was quiet most of the night. He listened, occasionally nodded, rarely spoke.

  At no time did he appear disinterested or bored. He was actively in the conversation without actually talking. It was like some gift that he had to lull people into his world. Her parents had talked his ear off and Stryker had let them.

  The way he was with her mom and dad and the way he was with her were night and day. She had to wonder how he was with others.

  Her first encounter with him was a lot like how he was with Primrose and Freedom. But it had taken him minutes to warm up to her. That hadn’t happened last night. His stoicism never wavered. He only spoke when necessary and then it was usually one or two words.

  Libby liked to think that maybe, just maybe, she was someone he could be real with. That he felt comfortable with her enough to tell her anything. She liked the idea of being that with him.

  If they managed to stick it out for any length of time they could be each other’s sounding boards. Nothing hidden, nothing falsified, just the real them. That thought made her smile into her bowl of granola.

  Finishing up, she took her bowl to the sink, kissed both of her parents goodbye and headed out the door.

  Chapter 24

  She’d chosen one of the few pairs of jeans she owned for today. Not that she didn’t like them, but at work it was always easier to sit on the floor in skirts to read to the children or shelve books without having your circulation cut off by a pair of skinny jeans.

  Her worn pair of blue jeans that had one knee torn open were soft from a million washes. She’d bought them used like most of her clothes. And they had been well worn then, now they were practically threadbare in places.

  She’d grabbed a long sleeve white t-shirt that was tight down her arms then threw on a chunky sleeveless gray sweater that had a cowl neck. The top would fall off her shoulder frequently, that was the reason for the undershirt.

  A pair of old cowboy boots she’d worn for a town barn dance a few years ago were unearthed, then grabbed her jacket and helmet before heading out the door. She was sure her parents hadn’t realized that she was riding on his motorcycle so she hid the helmet inside the jacket.

  Walking down the street, she breathed in the crisp morning air. The dew was just burning off and you could almost smell the season changing. She waved at Mr. Parker who was staring out his kitchen window. And then she practically skipped to the library.

  Waiting on the curb, leaning up against his motorcycle was her man. Yes, she totally thought of him like that now. Her man, for as long as he stuck around.

  His gaze was directed down the road she was travelling. He’d been waiting for her. A smirk played around his lips as he saw her huge grin when she spotted him. She knew she should play it cool and aloof.

  At least that’s what she’d seen the girls do in college. Always teasing along different guys.

  Libby didn’t have that artifice built in. She was happy she smiled, she was sad she cried. And right now she was pretty freaking happy. A hot guy waiting for her smiling his little smile, just for her, felt like she’d won the lottery.

  “Hey,” she said when she reached him.

  “Mouse,” he said low. “You got something for me?”

  Libby thought quickly, was she supposed to bring something? A hostess gift? Lunch perhaps? Her puckered brow and lips made Stryker laugh out loud.

  “Kiss me, woman,” he said.

  Oh, she could totally do that she thought.

  Leaning into his hard body she let her hands rest on his firm abs as she reached up to let her lips touch his. She was trying to reach him, but she’d started her approach at the end of his legs which were stretched out in front of him. Her lips barely made contact and he did nothing to help her.

  She stepped back and assessed the situation. She could come at him from the side or she could force him to give her the space. She chose the latter.

  Putting her hands on his knees she gave them a little shove. He immediately opened his legs, bending them to make space for her. She stepped between them and smiled. He smiled back.

  She tried again with the kiss this time with much more success. She licked the seal of his lips, teasing his soft lips with her tongue. He opened letting her explore him like he so frequently did with her.

  Libby loved having the control. Stryker wasn’t a limp fish, but he was letting her control the show. They kissed and kissed as Stryker’s hands made their way to her ass to haul her up against the hardness between his legs. She loved knowing he was hard for her. It was flattering and hot.

  Stryker decided he’d let her play enough and took over the kiss. He swept her mouth deep giving her a proper good morning. Pulling back, he brought a hand up to the braid that was resting over one shoulder.

  “Sleep good?” he asked, his voice gruff from their sexy fun.

  “Mmm, not so much. You seem to be disturbing my dreams, Mr. Hayes,” she said, her eyes scanning over his face.

  He hadn’t shaved this morning so his jaw line was scruffy and she wanted to drag her nails along it. Feel the texture, wonder what it would feel like on other parts of her body.

  “I’m very sorry about that, I would hope you would only have good dreams about me.”

  “Oh, they were good all right,” she said, blushing a little

  She watched his eyebrows go up. “Oh really? Why don’t you tell me all about your dreams, mouse. I think I might find them very instructive.” He said the last part with a strange purr.

  “Hmm, maybe later,” she hedged.

  Stryker really wanted to push her, but now was not the time. He wanted to give her a great day. Some time alone just the two of them. Maybe he’d get her to think about their future together.

  “All right, rain check. Hop on,” he said, setting her away from him and getting on the bike.

  He turned and helped her with her helmet before offering her a hand. He grabbed his helmet from the gas tank and slid it on.

  His was a skull cap type that Libby didn’t think offered a whole lot of real protection. Hers was a full head, front mask type. It made it hard to lay her head against him, but was probably a heck of a lot safer.

  Once she was seated and tucked up tight against him he kicked over the motor and took off. They didn’t ride for very long, but Libby was enjoying the scenery. She hadn’t even bothered to ask where they were going.

  She really didn’t care as long as she was with him. She was either a trusting fool or just head over heels. She knew the answer was both.

  Stryker turned off the main road and down a gravel path. He slowed down to keep the rocks from kicking up. They reached a clearing and there was a little red cabin sitting in the woods.

  Stopping next to the house he turned off the motor. Helping her off he followed removing both of their helmets and sitting them on the bike seat.

  Libby was looking around taking in the quiet of the location. She didn’t need to be told that this was where he lived.

  It was a small cabin that someone probably used for hunting or camping at some point. But it appeared to be more about warming up from being outdoors then long term living. There were nice windows, a sturdy front door, and a chimney. She didn’t doubt that inside had all the modern conveniences.

  “My place,” he grunted.

  She turned and smiled at him sweetly. “I figured,” she said quietly.

  “Come on in,” he said, gesturing towards the steps up to the door.

  There was a tiny porch and Stryker pulled open the screen door holding it with his foot before pushing
open the door. Clearly he left it unlocked not worried about intruders.

  He held the door open for her to enter first. She walked in and found a room that was a living room, kitchen, and eating area all in one.

  The furniture was all rustic oak with patterns of trees and deer on them. Probably came furnished she suspected. It was tidy, almost too tidy. There wasn’t anything personal lying about. No pictures, no dirty clothes on the floor, not even a dish in the sink.

  “Tidy,” she murmured.

  “Don’t like clutter,” he said.

  Peering down the hallway, Stryker saw her gaze and said, “Bedroom, bathroom.”

  “It’s nice, Stryker. Comfy and quiet. I’m saving up to buy my own house someday. I don’t want a huge mortgage so I’m hoping to put down enough on it that it won’t stretch my monthly budget.”

  “Smart, I don’t really like big houses,” he said, testing the waters.

  He grew up in a mansion. He still stayed there when he was in California. It always felt so impersonal. It was beautiful and perfectly decorated by his mother.

  He preferred the warehouses they kept their wine in. They smelled like oak barrels and dirt. You weren’t afraid to mess anything up in there. His brother Everett had moved to their pool house years ago to live a little freer.

  “Me neither, but that’s just because I hate to clean. I’m much rather read. In fact, when I do have to clean, I usually listen to an audio book to keep me motivated,” she admitted.

  “Have to get some bookshelves,” Stryker said looking around the room.

  “You planning on starting a collection?” she asked, noting there were no books she could see.

  “No, for you, when you’re here. You need something to read,” he explained like it was obvious.

  Libby was taken aback. He was talking about altering his house for her comfort? That meant he thought she’d be there often enough to need books at her disposal. Squee!

  She had to play it cool so she said what anyone would say, “Oh you don’t have to do that for me.” That was the proper thing to say. Inside she was thinking, hells yeah, slap up some bookcases!