by T. S. Joyce
Arrangement. Ouch.
December 21st – caroling with the family in Tidas Heights (or as I call it, Fancyland)
December 22nd – the lighting of the town Christmas tree, 6:00
December 23rd – A Holiday Story play at the community center
December 24th – Christmas Eve and gift exchange at the Wilson house
Christmas Day – Holiday dinner at the Wilson’s, pay you in full for your services
She didn’t know why she added that last part. Maybe because she was stung by how he’d acted tonight. Perhaps because he’d blurred the lines between real feelings and a business interaction.
He responded formally. Thank you. See you tomorrow at Tidas Heights.
And that was that.
That. Was. That.
Chapter Eleven
Shit.
Shit, damn, double shit.
Burke knocked again. “No!” Kieran yelled. He hadn’t slept all night and was in the worst mood. No amount of coffee would fix him if he had to talk to Burke this morning.
When the lock rattled, Kieran snarled. Of course, Burke still had a key to this place. Jackass.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Burke demanded. “You just bailed on me last night. No explanation, you just didn’t show up.”
“I…” Kieran frowned. There wasn’t an excuse to miss poker night with Burke and the boys. “I forgot.”
“Lie.”
“I was with her, okay?”
“Her who?”
“The girl you told me to call. The human.”
“Oh.” Burke’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” he said softer as he sat in a chair. “And?”
“And what?”
“And what’s she like? Is she crazy?”
With an explosive sigh, he poured two cups of coffee from the pot on the counter. He brought one to Burke. “She’s not crazy at all. Just tired, I think, of the holidays and she’s desperate for something to distract her. Leslie is actually…well, she’s actually pretty cool.”
Burke’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You look like crap.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m serious. It looks like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I kissed her.”
“Oh, shit.” Burke leaned back in the creaking chair, his eyes round. “But she’s human.”
“Yeah, I’m aware.”
“You can’t fall for a human, Kieran. There’s rules.”
“I know, Burke!”
Burke cocked his head to the side and watched Kieran busy himself with pouring cream into his coffee. “What are you doing, Kieran?”
“I don’t know.” He hung his head and shook it. “Burke, I don’t know what I’m doing. She filled up my head, and I forgot it was a job and messed up. After two days, I got in too deep and I still have four days left. And on top of that?”
“Oh, it gets worse?” his brother demanded.
“She’s the daughter of Bert Wilson.”
“Oh, you’re fucked, Kieran! What if he digs into what kind of shifter you are?”
“I don’t care about him. I care about Leslie.”
“Leslie. Leslie Wilson. You’re neck-deep in shit, little brother, and with a Wilson. You know how it is for the animals. You put a girl in front of them, and they choose. There’s no turning back if your lion bonds with her. You know that. Mom and Dad beat that into our heads.”
“Yeah, well Mom was born human, and she said she never regretted Turning for Dad.”
“Mom wasn’t a Wilson with a fortune and a dad who is the most powerful man in town! Mom was in love with dad and willing. Is Leslie willing? Does she even know what you are?”
“No! Because you fucking told me to lie! She thinks I’m an otter shifter.”
“Ha! God, Kieran. An otter. You have gold eyes and you growl thirty times a day. An otter? Really?”
“Just go, man.”
“I thought you were just going to do the job and get paid and keep the house for another year. That’s all you had to do.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand!”
“She’s fucking amazing, Burke! She’s different— happy, cute and sexy, and she is open and doesn’t have any walls up. None. She’s an open book. She’s been hurt and maneuvered and manipulated and insulted, yet she still became exactly the woman she wants to be. Who can even say that? She’s strong. She’s funny and pretty and she looks at me like…”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a man.”
“But you aren’t a man,” Burke said softly. “And if you care so much about her, maybe you should back out of this. Leave her alone. Leave her human.” There was sympathy in Burke’s eyes. “Let her live the life she was supposed to live.”
Chapter Twelve
December 21
He’d stood her up.
Leslie blinked back tears as she read the text again. Can’t make it tonight.
No explanation, no apology, just…can’t make it tonight.
“Sing, honey,” Mom said. “The photographer is taking pictures for the family album.”
With a sniff, Leslie lifted her face and sang the second line of the chorus to “Silent Night” with the other thirty people gathered in front of Mr. Havershaw’s mansion. He stood on his porch with his grandchildren, swaying to the acapella song.
“Why don’t we go sing in different neighborhoods?” she asked her mom.
Kimberly explained, “Because, the lighting is good for photos in this neighborhood, and the houses make beautiful backdrops.”
Leslie didn’t understand. “It’s just doesn’t seem like a super important part of the holiday spirit. Good photo lighting. I’m sure other neighborhoods without mansions would love to have carolers show up at their doors, too.”
“Can’t you just get through one tradition without making it about you?” Beth asked.
“Please,” Mom said, walking beside her as they made their way to the next house, “just give me a rest. Just give me one holiday season without complaining.”
“Where’s Kieran?” Braden asked from behind them.
Startled, Leslie turned to him. “You’re the first person to ask about him tonight.”
“We just assumed he got overwhelmed with our close-knit family,” Kimberly explained.
“Or insulted and bailed,” Beth’s husband, Doug, muttered under his breath. “No one blames him.”
Beth gave her husband the rudest look in the universe. “Like we’re terrible? We’re a joy to be around. People would sell their kidneys to be invited to Wilson parties.”
“Not me. I would sell my kidney to not be invited,” Leslie muttered.
Braden snorted but got swatted in the arm by Kimberly, and he didn’t talk anymore after that.
The night was eternal, and she returned home confused and drained.
Why? She texted Kieran when she got home and was in bed. She had to know. She deserved to know.
How was it? His text didn’t answer her question.
Frowning at the glowing screen, she turned off the bedside lamp in her small loft and cuddled under the blankets before she responded. It wasn’t my favorite night. Sleep well. Send.
A few minutes of sleeplessness passed before her phone vibrated with a response.
I’m sorry, Leslie. I know you get let down by people, and I’m letting you down. I hate it. Hated not being there. I almost went a dozen times. I think it’s best if I back out of our agreement though. Trust me, you’re better off. I’m not the man you think I am.
Clearly not if he would just abandon her like this, but fair was fair. You earned half of the pay. I can mail you the check. Send.
I don’t want your money. You gave me something more valuable than that. I wish I could follow through for you.
Her eyes burned with tears reading that last part. She wished that too, but wishes didn’t come true for girls like her.
Okay. Okay. She set her phone face
down on the nightstand and rolled over, stared at the moon outside the window. He didn’t want to be around her for the holidays, and that happened. That’s what she really was used to. Something about her bothered people. But she wasn’t going to be one of those girls who begged a man to hang out with her. If he didn’t want to follow through, that was okay. She would survive.
She would tackle the holidays just like she’d done every year before now.
Alone.
Chapter Thirteen
December 22nd
The door to his office swung open, and Kieran could smell Mr. Wilson’s cologne before he could see him. Crap.
He stood and straightened his spine, tossed the pen down on the desk. “If you’re here about the spruce numbers, I’ve already fixed it. Drove up there and got the rest of that inventory myself. I don’t think they’ll be pulling that on us again.”
Mr. Wilson sat down on the futon and rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands in front of him. “I know what you are.”
Dread dropped Kieran’s stomach to the floor. “And what am I?”
“A lion shifter.”
Fuck. “It doesn’t affect my work. In fact, the reason I’m able to do the workload I can is because of the animal—”
“I don’t give a shit about the job, Kieran. I care about what this means for my daughter.”
“It doesn’t mean anything to her. I already backed away.”
“Yeah? Well last night at the caroling, I watched her look at a text on her phone a dozen times and tear up. Now, I’m assuming that text was from your ‘backing away.’” He used air quotes.
Hearing about her reaction gutted Kieran. He leaned back against the desk and shook his head. “I didn’t mean for either of us to get this far.”
“She’s my baby. My littlest. My little wild one.”
“I’m not trying to take your daughter.”
“No? I hated that she picked you to bring to the party. Hated it. But you know what I saw when you got there? I saw my daughter light up like a damn Christmas tree. And she was confident and talking to people and having fun and she wasn’t just a wallflower or awkward or folding under her mom and sisters’ attention. She had fun.”
“I…” Kieran angled his face and frowned at him. Was this some sort of trick? “I don’t understand what you’re saying. You’re happy I was at the party with her?”
“I’m saying pick a side, shifter. I know what you have to do if you choose her. You told her you’re an otter shifter, but you’re not. You’re one of the ones with rules. Don’t play with her. All in or all out.” He stood and tossed an envelope onto the desk. “It was good to see her happy that night. She’s been on my heart so much this season. I think it’s because my other daughters all have families of their own. But this year, actually watching Leslie, she has something they don’t. They’re settled and financially stable, but Leslie never gave a shit about the money. She seems fine just living in her little house and making pottery with kids all day. Maybe she has the right of it. Maybe I lost sight of some of the things that are important. My other daughters…they don’t joke or laugh like Leslie. They don’t glow when they look at their husbands. I stood on that landing, watching the two of you at the party. I watched you walk straight up to my wife and introduce yourself. She’s not an easy woman to please, but you were good. No hesitation. I like that in a man. I stood with a knife resting on the side of my glass, ready to break any tension between you and the other guests by announcing dinner. I guess I just wanted an easy night for Leslie. What you gave her? It wasn’t just easy. I’ve never seen her so relaxed. I think you’re a monster, Kieran. I think all shifters are. But you make my daughter feel safe, so maybe a monster is what she needs. Be decisive either way. I don’t like seeing her hurt.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him.
Kieran watched Mr. Wilson stride to his truck, get in, and drive away.
Huh. The old tin man had a heart after all.
Kieran opened the envelope, and what he found inside had him sitting deep into the desk chair. It was a stack of professional pictures. They were of him and Leslie at the Wilson Family party. He’d noted a photographer drifting around the crowd but hadn’t paid much attention to him.
There was one of them dancing in the corner by a bunch of potted poinsettias. One of them in the middle of the room, looking at each other mid-laugh, like no one else in the world even existed. People around them were looking at them, but he remembered this moment. He hadn’t realized anyone was even paying attention. He’d been lost in her eyes.
She looked so pretty in that green dress and her heels.
The next was of her across the room from him, waving, her smile megawatt.
The next was of them spiking the eggnog together with the flask he’d brought for her.
There was one of them with Braden, laughing at the bar. And another of Kieran twirling her for a spin by the huge Christmas tree in the den. Her dress was all lifted at the hem, and her eyes were on him.
Always on him.
And his were on her.
It was too late. He leaned back in the desk chair and chewed his thumbnail as he watched the crew loading trees onto an eighteen wheeler. It was too late to turn himself around. The animal liked her. He liked her.
His thoughts orbited around her.
The idea that he’d disappointed her was a knife in his gut.
She hadn’t even responded to his apology, and he deserved it.
He’d thought about their kiss a hundred times. The way she’d tasted, the way she’d leaned into him, the way she’s kissed him back, and the way her hand felt on his chest as he’d growled. She hadn’t run. Could she handle what he was?
All in or all out.
One was a selfish decision that would get her hurt, and one would set her free but hurt him in the process.
Kieran stared at the picture on top of the stack, the one where he was twirling her.
How on earth was he going to fix this mess?
Chapter Fourteen
“I just want to get through the tree lighting ceremony and go home,” Leslie whispered to Braden.
“Well, gird your loins, girl, your mother has plans.” He rested the lit wick of his candle to hers, and the little flame ignited.
“What plans?” she whisper-screamed.
“She found you a husband.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Baby Jesus in a manger,” Mom sang from behind her. “That’s what my daughter is talking about. Leslie, I would like you to meet Gregory Potts.”
Swallowing down her groan, Leslie turned with what she thought was a smile, but from the startled look on the man’s face, it was probably a grimace.
He was tall, handsome, and also fifteen years her senior. “Your mom has been telling me all about you. It’s nice to meet you, Leslie.” He offered his hand for a shake.
Out of the politeness of her heart, she shook his hand, hating every second of the hopeful smile on Mom’s face.
“I was telling Gregory of how you are a business entrepreneur—”
“I own a ratty little pottery painting shop.”
Mom gave her a warning look. “And owns her own home—”
“It’s four hundred square feet and only fits me.”
Braden snorted behind her.
“And Gregory here is a widower and seemed very interested when I showed him your pictures—”
“Which pictures did she show you?” Leslie interrupted tiredly. “Was it the ones at formals, or parties, where I was all dressed up and looking perfect? Was my hair all in place and my makeup pristine? That’s not me. I’m wild hair and baggy, comfortable clothes that are covered in paint or clay water most of the time. I don’t wear much makeup and I don’t care about appearances. I care about being happy and having fun. None of this makes me happy,” she said, waving to the huge group of Wilsons and their friends, all dressed in designer winter clothing, holding candles and beginning a Christmas carol as t
hey prepared to light the huge tree on the edge of town.
Gregory surprised her with a smile and a nod. “I hear you.” He scanned the crowd and leaned forward. “You just keep being you.” He bowed his head to Mom. “Have a good night, ladies.”
Mom made an offended noise in her throat and parted her lips to ream Leslie.
“No,” she said sternly before the fire in her mother’s eyes could reach her tongue.
“No?” Mom demanded.
“Just…no.” She blew out her candle and made her way past Mom and through the crowd.
Why did she feel so sad? So invisible. So unimportant.
She was more than her last name.
The only person who’d ever seen that was Kieran, and he wasn’t interested in her life or this holiday season. But mostly he wasn’t interested in her. He’d made her feel important, seen her, and it was hard to go back to the Wilson Bubble after she’d tasted freedom with him.
There was some chaos on the edge of the crowd, and she looked up to see a group of men swaying and singing the Christmas carol—badly. They were holding coffee cups, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t coffee if their slurring words said anything.
She laughed. Laughed in the dark moment, and when she continued her progress through the crowd, he was there.
Kieran.
He stood on the edge of the carolers, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He wore dark jeans, nice boots, and a thick navy sweater. His eyes were bright gold and uncertain as he drank her in.
She didn’t know why, but she asked, “Where’s your jacket?”
With a shake of his head, he said, “I’m not cold tonight.” He weaved in between the last few people that separated them. “Turn around.”
Confused, she did, and his arms slipped around her shoulders. He rested his cheek on the side of her head. “Will you forgive me?”
“For bailing on me?”
“Yes.”
Relief flooded her system, but boys shouldn’t get off the hook so easy. “Maybe if you buy me one of those giant pretzels from the concession stand over there.”