DandeLION Season (Green Valley Shifters)

by Chant, Zoe

“Can I help?” Tawny offered.

  “She brought piiiiiie!” Trevor announced.

  “It’s hot,” Damien added.

  “Well, obviously,” Andrea said. “No, no, Tawny, you’re our guest. Trevor, the table, please.”

  “It’s apple pie,” Trevor said helpfully, not moving.

  “Trevor!” Andrea said firmly.

  “Fiiiiiine.”

  Trevor stomped after Andrea through the kitchen to the dining room, and Damien was alone with Tawny again.

  “I didn’t know if you had a favorite kind,” Tawny said, looking at her pie. Down the hall, silverware rattled as Trevor went through the motions of his task as if he was being tortured, Andrea reminding him of every step.

  “I like apple,” Damien assured her.

  Tawny chewed on her lip. “It certainly smells good in here. What has Shaun whipped up this time?”

  Fortunately, Damien had talked him out of something as common as a casserole. “Diablo chicken. With baby red potatoes and carrots.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence, then Tawny said brightly, “Well, I’ll see if Shaun needs any help in the kitchen,” and moved to leave the room.

  “Wait,” Damien said automatically, but he stalled out when Tawny turned her brown eyes to him expectantly.

  He was a grown man, with grown children, he reminded himself, and he’d weathered two marriages. He made million dollar decisions every day without flinching.

  And at the moment, he felt like an unsteady adolescent, utterly uncertain what to do next.

  He wanted to tell her that she was his, that they were meant to be together. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. He wanted to see if her hair was as soft as he remembered.

  Instead, he was just staring at her, and she looked back at him quizzically with those soft eyes in her smiling face.

  He had never been so grateful for Trevor’s interruption as he was when the little boy escaped back into the living room, hollering behind him, “I already set the table Miss... Mom! I’m all done!”

  He nearly collided with Tawny, and threw himself over the back of the couch. “Did you get to keep the mail truck, Miss Tawny?” he asked.

  “No, I had to give that back,” Tawny said, her smile crinkling her cheeks. “It belonged to the post office.”

  “I want a Mustang,” Trevor volunteered. “An orange Mustang.”

  “That sounds very fancy,” Tawny agreed. “I bet it would go fast.”

  That required Trevor to demonstrate exactly how fast it would go, Damien frowning at him thoughtfully, until Shaun came to the kitchen door.

  “Dinner’s ready,” he said, looking between Tawny and Damien with amusement.

  “Vrrrrroooooom!” Trevor said, dashing through the kitchen to the dining room beyond.

  Tawny followed him swiftly, before Damien could decide to offer her his arm or some other appropriate gesture.

  Chapter 7

  Dinner was unexpectedly pleasant.

  Tawny was afraid that her wholly inappropriate attraction to Shaun’s father would make her hopelessly clumsy, or that she’d be unable to make intelligent conversation in his stupifying presence. She had not mis-remembered how gorgeous and built he was, nor the mesmerizing flash of his silvery-gray eyes. If anything, he was more beautiful than she had been picturing him; his beard did absolutely nothing to detract from his physical perfection, and he was almost courtly towards her. He pulled out the chair for her, and tried to put her napkin in her lap before she took it away and did it herself.

  Fortunately, Trevor kept up a steady stream of chatter and it was easy to maintain a light level of laughter and banter around his childish enthusiasm.

  “Did you know diablo means devil?” Trevor asked earnestly. “This is devil chicken.”

  He seemed delighted by the potential evil in his food, and gleefully stabbed it and gobbled up seconds.

  Tawny’s pie was served for dessert, and she was flattered by everyone’s appreciation.

  Especially Damien’s, if she was going to be honest about it.

  She wasn’t sure if she believed his extravagant praise for it—after all, Shaun ran a bakery and made very excellent pies himself—but his enthusiastic consumption was convincing.

  “I’ll leave the rest here,” she offered. “It makes an excellent breakfast with a fried egg on top.”

  “You’ll have to make that for me some day soon,” Damien said.

  Tawny stilled with her fork in mid-air, then laughed and forced herself to eat her next bite. He could not possibly mean that the first way she had taken it. Her cheeks heated anyway, and she got a glimpse of Shaun and Andrea exchanging amused knowing looks.

  “You should make it for me!” Trevor agreed. “Mom, can we have pie for breakfast?”

  “That’s not for little boys,” Shaun said firmly. “Just grownups.”

  Trevor began to whine, and Andrea stood up. “Let’s get cleaned up,” she said cheerfully. “It’s about time for little boys to go to bed.”

  That made more whining, and Tawny pushed back her chair and stood up. “Let me help clear the dishes,” she offered.

  Damien, suddenly tall beside her, took the plate from her hands. “You’re our guest,” he reminded her firmly.

  He handed the plate to Shaun, who looked like he might laugh, but settled for a smirk. “Let me take that,” Shaun offered ironically. “Why don’t you go serve Tawny a cup of coffee in the living room.”

  “I should...” Tawny started.

  “I insist,” Damien said.

  For a moment, Tawny was tempted to protest on principal.

  But the dinner had been so nice, after so many dinners alone, that she didn’t want it to end. “Very well.”

  She settled herself in one of the armchairs, while Damien got cups of coffee and Trevor complained bitterly about the unfairness of bedtime before he was sleepy and thought of one hundred things that it was very important to tell Tawny.

  “Don’t forget to practice your intervals,” Tawny reminded him. “You have a piano lesson tomorrow!”

  Trevor wilted. “Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly.

  “Shaun and I are going upstairs to get Trevor into bed,” Andrea announced more loudly than Tawny suspected was strictly necessary. “We might be a while. Make yourselves at home!”

  She herded the protesting Trevor up the stairs before her, and Shaun gave Tawny another knowing smirk as he followed.

  Then Tawny was alone in their living room for just a brief moment before Damien came out of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee.

  “Thank you,” Tawny said shyly, accepting the cup and trying not to touch his fingers as she did so.

  She failed, and the barest brush of his fingertips sent electric shocks up her arms.

  The coffee cup shook just the tiniest bit as she took her first sip.

  To her surprise, he seemed more interested in hearing her stories than telling his. At his request, she related the events of Patricia’s wedding.

  “There were goats everywhere, eating the decorations, being overly friendly with the guests. Kids—of the human kind—were running around everywhere trying to catch them and mostly getting in the way. And the rings were nowhere to be found. I thought Patricia’s mother was going to have a heart attack on the spot.”

  “Who would blame her?” Damien said with a chuckle. “That is not how weddings are generally ordered.”

  “And then! Oh, right into that chaos, Trevor, bless his heart, tips the entire tower of cupcakes over.”

  “It was an accident?” Damien suggested.

  “Not in the slightest! Shaun didn’t tell you?” she asked incredulously. “Trevor tried to sabotage the whole affair to protect his friend, Clara! He was the one who let the goats out and hid the rings!”

  “Not a word of it,” Damien said. “My son and I... we haven’t been in the habit of talking much.”

  Tawny felt a twinge of sympa
thy for the brief note of regret in his voice.

  “Did they find the rings?” Damien prompted.

  “Trevor had thrown them in the deep end of the swimming pool,” Tawny said, smothering a chuckle. “One of the groomsmen had to strip to his underwear and go diving to get them back.”

  Damien’s laugh was genuine and rich. Tawny tried to convince herself she was not flattered that he found her retelling of the events amusing and failed.

  Almost as flattering was the way that he watched her when she spoke.

  His silver eyes were warm with appreciation, and if Tawny didn’t know better, she would have guessed she’d caught his gaze lingering over the curves of her breasts and on the lines of her shoulders.

  No one had ever looked at her that way.

  She knew she was plain and plump and not young enough to catch eyes even if she hadn’t been those first two things. She was used to people looking straight past her.

  She was just a mail carrier, the local old maid.

  Damien’s look was so piercing, so intense, that Tawny wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  “So, what do you do?” Tawny asked, playing with her cup.

  “I manage an engineering and construction company. We do big international projects, like the Desmond Mine in Brazil, and the rail line upgrade across Siberia. We’re rebuilding the interstate exchange in South Chicago next summer.”

  Tawny had read about the Desmond Mine. The construction was supposed to be in the trillions of dollars, but she couldn’t remember what they were mining. Titanium? “Mm,” she said encouragingly.

  “Mostly, I’m the one they call in when a project is going south and people are threatening billion dollar lawsuits.”

  Tawny nodded. She did not doubt for a moment that Damien was the sort who could frighten contractors back into line. “It sounds like exciting work,” she said kindly.

  “It’s... rewarding,” Damien said mildly.

  Tawny wondered if he was referring to money, or if it was the thrill of a job that let him be in charge of gigantic projects and keep disgruntled contractors in line.

  It occurred to her that Shaun and Andrea had been gone an awfully long time getting Trevor to bed, and the little boy’s noises of protest had long since died away.

  “I... should be getting home,” she said, putting aside the empty coffee cup that she’d been cradling. “It’s getting late.”

  As she stood, Damien did also, and she’d somehow managed to forget how tall he was until he was standing next to her. It stole her breath, standing that close to him.

  “Let me drive you home,” he said. It didn’t sound like an offer.

  “It’s very close,” Tawny said. “I can walk easily.”

  “Then let me walk you home,” Damien said, no less a command than his first.

  Tawny nearly refused, but she looked thoughtfully up at Damien and he added, “Please?” with just a hint of uncertainty.

  She didn’t trust her voice, but nodded.

  It wasn’t until they had walked out into the warm, dark spring night that she thought that she should say goodbye to Shaun and Andrea.

  Then Damien took her hand, and Tawny forgot about them entirely.

  Chapter 8

  Tawny’s hand in his was a good start, Damien thought, when she didn’t pull it away.

  He wasn’t sure how something could feel so exciting... and so settling, at the same time. Her fingers belonged in his.

  She belonged to him.

  They stood on Shaun’s porch for a moment, then Tawny shyly said, “I live on Jefferson, it’s just around the corner.”

  He let her guide them, and wondered if he imagined that she walked more slowly that necessary, savoring their promising contact.

  It had cooled, and she shivered as they walked the few, easy blocks. Damien wished he had a coat to offer her.

  They stopped at one of the few fenced yards in the neighborhood—in the whole town as far as Damien could tell. “This is my house,” she said shyly.

  Damien opened the gate and walked with her up to the porch. Tawny hesitated at the door and then unlocked it. “Don’t let Lady Gray get out,” she cautioned.

  “You have a cat?” Damien wasn’t sure how another feline was going to react to the presence of his lion.

  “Two of them,” Tawny explained, opening the door. “The Cat Formerly Known as Prints is the black one. You won’t see much of her, she’s still mostly feral. Lady Gray is the fluffy gray one. She’s pretty shy with strangers, but she might let you pet her if she thinks you have treats.”

  “The Cat Formerly Known as Prints?” Damien asked in amusement, going through the door and only realizing after he was inside that he hadn’t actually been invited in.

  Tawny’s home was a tiny old farm-style house, warm and homey. Every surface was covered with growing things: black trays of spring seedlings and potted houseplants.

  They were greeted by a black cat, who meowed accusingly from the kitchen entry.

  “P-R-I-N-T-S,” Tawny introduced. “She liked to walk through my lime and leave white footprints all over the porch before I took her in and she became something that resembles a domestic cat.”

  Damien chuckled, and crouched down to greet the creature that shared his mate’s home.

  He was answered with spitting hisses and a black streak that fled to the back of the house.

  “Hmm,” Damien said, straightening. “That went less well than I’d hoped.”

  Tawny didn’t seem particularly surprised. “It took me two years to tame her,” she offered sympathetically.

  There was a moment of silence. “Would you like a cup of... ah... coffee?” Tawny offered.

  “I didn’t come for coffee,” Damien told her, moving swiftly to intercept her.

  This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for. As he had expected, her cheeks flushed and her pulse fluttered at her throat, and Damien bent to put his mouth on hers.

  He didn’t expect her hand, flat on his chest, pushing him away.

  “You can’t just assume,” Tawny said tartly.

  Damien blinked at her, then frowned. She wanted him, he had no doubts in his mind at all. There was hunger in her eyes, and a hitch to her breath that she couldn’t quite hide.

  “Tawny,” he said gruffly, “may I kiss you?”

  She hesitated only a moment, then squeaked, “Yes...”

  This time her arms came up around his neck, and her mouth opened under his, and he drowned.

  She was stronger than she looked, and her lips were sweet and alive.

  All of her curves were perfect, under his hands, and she was kissing him back with all the passion he’d known was lurking under her demure facade.

  She was his.

  Damien kissed down the side of her neck, pulling her close up against him and couldn’t resist nibbling and growling, just a little. He needed her, desire swelling through him.

  “My Tawny,” he said, finding the buttons of her blouse.

  “Wait, wait...” Tawny was panting, and her mouth was swollen. “What are we doing?”

  “I’m making love to you,” Damien said firmly.

  “No,” Tawny protested. “I mean, I’d figured that much out, but what we doing? What... is this?”

  She felt it, Damien thought. She felt the mate pull even as a human. “Tawny, you are for me. I knew from the moment I saw you that you would make me happier than anyone else in the world ever could.”

  Tawny stared at him, her breath still ragged. “I’m not sure what to say to that,” she finally confessed.

  Damien bent to kiss her, but she pulled back reluctantly. “Damien,” she said slowly. “I... like you.”

  “I love you,” Damien said promptly.

  Tawny laughed at him.

  He must have scowled, because she leaned forward and patted his arm like he was a pouting child. “Damien,” she said gently. “I like you a lot. But we just met, and it’s... been a long time, and I want to take it slow
.”

  Damien had no interest in taking it slow, and his lion had even less. He wanted to claim her, now, undress her and lay her down and make her cry his name in pleasure.

  But her warm brown eyes were looking at him expectantly, and Damien wrestled himself back under control. He could be patient. He could court her the way she deserved. “Of course,” he said graciously. “Tawny, may I kiss you?”

  She gave a little noise that might have been excitement or protest, and he added, “Just a kiss.”

  When she nodded, he enfolded her in his arms again and lay his mouth on hers.

  This time he kissed her slowly, deliberately, pulling her close and holding either side of her face in his hands.

  He left her breathless and trembling, almost incapable of standing. “I’ll bring Trevor to his piano lesson tomorrow,” he said. “Would you be interested in showing me around Green Valley afterwards?”

  “I... yes,” Tawny said, dazed. She cleared her throat. “Trevor is my last lesson and that sounds lovely.”

  Damien smiled at her. “Tomorrow, then.”

  She walked him to the door, hands nervous, and tipped her head up for a kiss on the porch that Damien was happy to give her.

  “Good night, Tawny,” Damien told her, brushing her lips.

  She sighed into his kiss, then took his face in her hands and said the unthinkable: “Have you ever considered shaving off your beard?”

  “I have had a beard since high school,” he said with a frown. She didn’t like the beard? Damien looked down at her in consternation. “I cannot imagine not having one.”

  Tawny had clearly realized her misstep, and said swiftly, “It’s a beautiful beard. Forget I said anything.”

  Damien did not forget things. But he could forgive anything from Tawny’s earnest face, and he gave her one final, gentle kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Tawny.”

  “Good night,” Tawny echoed.

  Then Damien was back outside her gate wondering which way to go to get back to Shaun’s house, because he hadn’t paid the slightest attention on the walk over.

  Chapter 9

  She was an idiot, Tawny decided, looking in the mirror the next morning.