by Anya Nowlan
Walking in, he was immediately greeted by the warm lights and the buttery texture of the hardwood floors and dark green leather booths he had set up. Most of it was custom built, along with the big, proud oak bar carved by another newcomer to Shifter Grove, Malt. There were big old US maps of the states at various stages of their history, along with marked shifter areas and how they had changed. Above the bar hung a big Texas flag, right next to the US flag. Yes, it was a bit cheesy, but he’d wanted to get his own bar for the better part of the last twenty years and Austin was determined to do it his way, dammit.
He slipped behind the bar with seasoned ease. That came with the territory when you’d been tending bar for the last fifteen years, but always for someone else. Now, it was Austin’s turn to call the shots. Well, that and do all the dirty work. He hadn’t yet hired anyone to help out.
May the games begin.
“Now, listen here! Tonight, it’s drinks only! I can throw some peanuts at you but that’s it. Anyone knows of a good cook and fine waiters or waitresses, send ‘em my way! You come get your own drink and I’ll promise to make myself as likeable as I can for you younguns!” he huffed.
Austin grabbed the first two beer glasses and filled them to the brim with local ale specifically ordered from the Burly Bear Brewery, owned by Dalton and Dash Tambley out of Boise. He pushed them down the bar into the waiting hands of Cerise and Rhett, tipping his hat at Cerise.
“I’m awfully thankful that you decided to come, Miss Cerise,” he said, smiling genuinely. “I was hoping we could get along, even if I’m direct competition.”
“Competition?! Please, if you get these drunken louts out of my nice diner, we’ll get along just fine. I know whose pies they’re going to come gunning for, regardless of how many saloons we have in Shifter Grove,” Cerise said, chuckling as she raised her glass to Austin and took a sip.
“That’s a deal,” Austin confirmed, cheerfully getting back to work.
Someone was already making the jukebox bounce, filling the bar with something from Kenny Chesney that would have usually required Austin to be at least a few drinks in already, but tonight he didn’t mind. His heart was filled with satisfaction, even if he knew it was fleeting. But he was determined to enjoy the moment and make of it what he could. After all, for a man in his somewhat older, but still perfectly capable years, fresh starts didn’t come so easy.
Austin Duskstep was no small man. At six foot five he stood equal or taller to many of the shifters in his bar. He had once had jet-black hair, but it was now dotted with salt and pepper, making him look all the more like a grizzled cowboy from the south. Deep-set hazel eyes and a strong chin with high cheekbones made him look stern, but when he smiled, there was plenty of warmth about him that looked good on a bartender.
Still, something about him hinted at a dark past and things he’d rather keep to himself.
At forty-one years of age, Austin had had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted from life. To be honest, he’d figured it out when he was much younger. He’d found his mate when he was twenty-three, as a lone mountain lion in control of a large domain in Texas. But that was long behind him and now he was in Shifter Grove, alone, chasing a dream he hadn’t had the desire to pursue for far too long.
The night wore on and every manner of Shifter Grove locals popped by. The sheriff, Diesel, came by to re-check his permits and remind Austin of the allowed noise level, all before sitting down and having a pleasant chat with him over a glass of water. Rhett’s and Rush’s wife Daniela, owner of a beauty salon down the road, brought in a big cake to celebrate the grand opening—and to subsequently drag her husbands home, reminding them that it was a damn work day the next day.
Keesha Bailey from the one and only law firm in the area boldly slipped him a card for the first time he had trouble with a bar brawl and her husband Battle promised to lend a hand whenever Austin needed an odd job done around the bar or his newly bought big country home.
All in all, the evening was a resounding success. When the night slowly wound down and most of the locals began pouring out after haggling long and hard with Austin about paying their damn tabs instead of letting Austin treat them on the first night, Austin was left with only Deacon at the bar. With a sigh, Austin took a seat, rolling his shoulders back and pouring himself the first beer of the night. He took a sip and the cool barley taste went down sweet as honey, probably because the bear brothers he had bought it from were experts at adding honey to just about anything.
“Tired, old-timer?” Deacon joked, chuckling.
“I’m pretty sure you’re closer to my age than to most of the others that were here tonight, Deacon. So watch that tone of yours or I’ll have to give you a stern whooping,” Austin said, waggling his finger at Deacon with a smirk.
“Sir, yes sir,” Deacon answered,
At his “advanced” age, Austin really didn’t feel much different than he had at twenty-two or twenty-five, arguably his physical prime. Shifters aged well and his muscles were still as strong and flexible as they’d ever been, probably more so now as he spent plenty of time training them. His body could have rivaled most of the younger shifters in town and he was built thick and strong like Diesel and Battle and Warren—real tanks.
He’d never lost his edge, despite a dark time not far enough in the past that would probably never leave him. He was as hard, fast, and dangerous as he’d ever been. Now he simply had more wisdom and experience to control that animal rage in him that had driven him to deeds he’d regretted as a younger man.
“So, do you mind me prying a little?” Deacon asked, giving Austin a curious look.
“Sure, pry away. But keep what you learn to yourself. I need to keep some mystery about me so I can tell the same story over and over again to all you louts as you come in to bare your souls over the years,” Austin chuckled.
“What happened?” Deacon asked bluntly.
“What do you mean?”
Deacon pointed at Austin’s ring finger, where a stark pale line around it marked the spot where his wedding ring had been. That same wedding ring that was tucked away in a velvet box now in his closet back at home, with all the rest of the stuff he had to but couldn’t quite put behind him.
“Hmm. That,” Austin murmured, instinctively rubbing his finger and feeling the glaring lack of ring there. “It’s a long story. And probably not one for tonight,” he said.
Deacon nodded, understanding. Love and especially the loss of love was something that few shifters felt comfortable talking about. Having just one fated mate was the pure and honest truth, and the shifter who let theirs go would live the rest of their life regretting it. But, as always, there were different tales. Different circumstances. And fate had a way of working around certain situations.
“I hear you. Are you planning on trying again?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow at Austin.
“You mean with someone else?” Austin asked, surprised at how sharp the polar bear shifter was.
He’d heard Deacon’s story through Slate, the resident pilot and the one who seemed to have brought in almost every bride in Shifter Grove. Deacon and Aubrey’s story was apparently one of Slate’s favorites. Everybody loved a good tale of redemption and second chances, after all.
“Yup.”
“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” Austin said vaguely, thinking about the ad he had up on SassyDate.
He’d put it up as sort of a lark when he set off from Texas on the long drive to Idaho. One night, something had gripped him and urged him to throw his hat in the ring for once. Sure, he’d seen a few women after… after it all, but they had never been too serious. Dammit, he doubted that he could ever even get serious with anyone again, but an empty house was an empty house and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving one and settling in at another one. So he’d put up an ad for a mail-order bride and waited for responses, sort of dreading and hoping at the same time.
“You should,” Deacon confirmed.
“Yeah? What makes you say that?” Austin asked, quirking a brow at him.
“I get the feeling that whatever happened with you happened a long time ago. And if you had a chance of making that right,” he said, pointing at the absence of the ring, “you would have already. No point in denying yourself happiness. Even if it is a different kind of happiness.”
Deacon shrugged, sipping his beer. He finished it off and stood up, offering his hand over the bar. Austin took it, standing up himself and shaking it. Their grips were strong and sure, just like the men themselves.
“Thank you for the hospitality, Austin. And if you need to talk to someone, let me know. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I lost my love once as well. I found her again, but I know what it feels like to be without it. Or if you want to go and, hell, I don’t know, run around the mountains a little, then I’m your guy too.”
“Will do, Deacon.”
With a grin, Deacon put on his hat and withdrew into the darkness outside the doors of Austin’s Texas. Chuckling to himself, Austin hit the light switch that killed the lamps outside and started cleaning up, all the while thinking of one particular response he’d gotten a few days ago and never dared respond to.
Maybe I should give this a shot. New town, new rules, new start, right?
CHAPTER THREE
Dahlia
Marcus was laughing and as far as Dahlia could recall, this was the first time he’d even cracked a smile in what seemed like months. She smiled slightly as Marcus and Slate bantered amongst themselves in the cockpit, Slate having allowed the boy to come sit up with him in the co-pilot’s seat.
“Naw, man, don’t touch that. We’ll end up airdropping your stuff or something and I bet I would not enjoy an afterlife with your mother coming after me,” Slate joked, throwing a wink at Dahlia.
She chuckled to herself, shaking her head a little. She was dressed in simple black slacks and a white cardigan with one of those wide, looping necklines that she loved. Her coat was still on and she was wearing earmuffs as the little airplane wobbled in for a landing. Dahlia had been entirely unsurprised to learn that there was essentially one way to get to Shifter Grove as soon as the weather started going bad, and of course it had to be in a shabby little airplane.
At least the pilot’s a hoot. And it’s so nice to hear Marcus laugh, she thought, looking out of the window at the snow-capped mountains and the colorful woods, the leaves a myriad of yellows and reds.
Her heart beat heavily in her chest and she rechecked her phone, though they were still too high up for there to be any signal. It had taken about a month of back and forth between Austin and her to land on the decision that she and Marcus should come down to see him. Despite feeling entirely silly about the fact that she’d written to him at all, Dahlia had found that she and Austin had more in common than they wanted to admit. She wasn’t outright looking for love quite so brazenly, but as snippets of conversations turned into whole evenings of chatting, she couldn’t deny that there might be something there, especially when she started daydreaming about him and he kept popping up in her dreams.
At one point, it was getting pretty impossible to ignore the fact that she wanted to meet this mountain of a man and either get over her little infatuation or figure out what to do with it next. Austin had promised to come and meet them at the airport, and a small, irrational voice inside of Dahlia said that he wouldn’t show up, that it was going to be just another disappointment in a long row of them and she’d have to deal with it all.
But as soon as the airplane touched down and slowed, Slate was peeking over his shoulder, grinning like he knew far too much. Hell, knowing this town, he probably did!
“I see someone’s waiting for you two!” he said with a wink, pointing at a big red pickup truck parked at the end of the runway.
Dahlia tried to acknowledge him, but all that came out was a little strangled sound that could have been mistaken for a drowning kitten. She nodded, though Slate had already whipped around again and was making final checks before bounding out of his seat.
“C’mon, Marcus, let’s get this bird grounded,” he hollered, as Marcus scrambled to catch up with the big man.
Snickering under her breath at the shifter’s antics—and she could tell Slate was a shifter; there was something about a shapeshifter and how they carried themselves that made it immediately obvious to Dahlia ever since watching her husband for all those years—she undid her seat belt and rose up as well. By the time she made it to the back of the tiny plane, the hatch was already open and the stairs were lowered, Marcus practically bouncing down them and onto the tarmac.
“After you,” Slate said, offering his hand so she could take the first step.
“Thank you, Mr. Morenkov,” she said, only to be corrected by Slate almost immediately.
“It’s Slate! Mr. Morenkov is my father and trust me, you don’t want anything to do with him,” he chuckled.
Dahlia was about to say something back, though what she would never know, because another strong hand took hold of hers and helped her down the rest of the steps.
“Oh. Hi…” Dahlia stammered, looking up at the face of the man she had been daydreaming about for far too much time now.
“Hello, Dahlia,” Austin said, grinning.
He pulled her into a warm but gentle embrace and Dahlia met it eagerly, slipping her hands around his big body and feeling the warmth of him permeating her senses. He smelled musky and delicious, like a night out by the fire, and he was so tall that she felt like she was a tiny little speck in his arms. For a moment, she forgot all about the fact that her son was standing right by them, his arms crossed over his chest and that face that meant trouble plastered over his expression.
“And this must be Marcus. I’m Austin. You and your mom will be staying with me for a while,” Austin said, letting go of Dahlia and thrusting out his hand at Marcus for a shake.
The boy, already tall and somewhat gangly in shape, like the puppy of a big dog, scowled at the outreached hand and shook his head. Austin considered the reaction and Dahlia was absolutely mortified.
“Marcus! Mind your manners,” she said, blushing already.
She knew there was no point in getting upset with him; it rarely ever did anything other than make matters worse with children, but the change from laughing and joking with Slate and outright glaring at Austin was so severe that she found herself being taken aback. Reluctantly, Marcus shook Austin’s hand, but let go as soon as he could. Dahlia felt like her breath got stuck in her throat.
“That’s all right. I’m sure we’ll figure one another out soon enough,” Austin murmured in that sexy growl of his, taking Dahlia’s suitcase from Slate and handing Marcus’s to him.
“I can take my own bag,” Marcus snorted.
And there went any hope Dahlia might have held onto in the hopes of her only child being able to enjoy this trip even a little. She sighed, making a note of it to talk to Marcus as soon as they had a moment alone. Not that it had done any good so far, but she’d have to keep trying. She knew there was a sweet boy in there somewhere; it was getting harder and harder with each day to really see where he was.
“I’ll see you later, Slate. I think I have an order coming on Thursday from Boise, so I’ll be here to meet you. And thank you for getting my precious cargo here,” Austin called to Slate, who was climbing around the underbelly of the airplane like a worried mama cat, checking on its young.
“No problem, Austin! Just have a beer with my name on it when I come around!” he hollered, waving at them and grinning at Marcus in particular.
Austin ushered all three of them toward his truck, the little wheels on Marcus’s suitcase squabbling along the pavement. Her words were strictly stuck in her throat and Marcus obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk. Little tingles still ran over her skin from the hug, even though they’d barely touched each other because of the thick coats they had on. But she was here, in Idaho, meeting this sweet man that had been
on her mind for days and weeks. It felt unreal.
“I figured we could go straight on over to my place and get you two settled in. Then, we can see about dinner,” Austin said, coolly taking control of the situation.
“That sounds good,” Dahlia said, a little awkwardly.
Oh God, he’s even hotter than the pictures showed. Why did I come here? Marcus obviously hates it already and it’s not like this has any kind of future… Our life is in New York City!
Well, the last one might have been a bit of a stretch. Hopping into the car after Austin opened the door for her, Dahlia made a valiant effort to ignore the fact that she had gotten her final check the day before the flight. She’d missed so much work, talking to various administrative aids, teachers, and principals in the area, that she couldn’t even excuse herself anymore. And the kicker was that she hadn’t even found a school yet that would take him.
But every day that Marcus had been spending home, the situation looked more dire. Like digging her way out of it would be impossible if she continued, keeping him in the same surroundings. So when Austin had offered to have her come out to visit him and bring Marcus, she’d said yes before she’d even thought about it.
Austin had offered to pay for the whole trip, but she insisted on doing it herself. Based on the low rates she had found, she still got the feeling that the debonair Texan might have had something to do with it, though.
Marcus got into the back seat and Austin climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Everyone set? Shifter Grove, here we come,” he said, the low timber of his voice making her insides purr.
She hadn’t been in the company of a man who wasn’t a plumber or an IT technician or an annoyed parent in so long that she felt like a damn teenager. Her mind was working on overdrive, trying to find topics to discuss so she wouldn’t seem entirely dull, and her hands were fidgeting in her lap. Marcus had rolled down the window and was looking out at the scenery going by, breathing in the fresh, clean air by the lungful. Glancing at him, Dahlia thought she spied a small smile, but Marcus quickly wiped that off his face as soon as he saw her looking at him.