Her Guardian Shifter

“Are you all right?”

Crud. She’d been standing staring at him, most likely with her mouth wide-open or a big, dopey smile on her face. Flustered, she nodded. “Yes, sorry. I’m fine. It’s just that...” she began. Horrified, she realized she’d been about to breach the most sacred etiquette between shifters. Yikes. There was no way she could ask him what kind of animal he changed into.

“Yes?” he asked, his tone patient, a smile playing along the edge of his sensual mouth. Once again she’d gotten lost in thought. Obviously, her social skills had also vanished with her previous life.

“I’m sorry,” she finally repeated, wincing as the second apology crept out. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you today and now that you’re here, you aren’t at all what I expected.” As she wound to the end of her rambling, her entire face flamed.

“But I confirmed that I would pick up the keys today,” he said, his expression puzzled.

“Yes, but...” She waved her fingers at her large picture window. “With the storm, I thought you’d reschedule.”

Tilting his big, shaggy head, he considered her. Then he grinned, his blue eyes sparking with amusement. And just like that, he went from great looking to absolutely drop-dead sexy.

So help her, her knees went weak again and her breath caught in her chest. Damn.

“You’re joking, right?” His good-natured question prompted her to agree.

“Of course I am,” she managed to reply, attempting a wobbly smile. Thank goodness she at least didn’t sound breathless. “What’s a little blizzard to someone from Norway, right?” Even if that someone had been living in California for years, according to his application.

“Exactly.” The warm glance he sent her invited her to share in his amusement. He swung his large head around to check out the central foyer, while expertly rocking his son’s carrier. The stairs to her place were to the left. His front door was underneath the staircase.

“Would you mind showing me the way to my place? It’s been a long day and I’d like to get settled in as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.” She matched his brisk tone. “Follow me.”

When she’d arrived to claim the house she’d inherited, she’d been surprised to see it had been built as two separate living areas. Both the top floor and the bottom were self-contained dwellings, each with their own kitchen and bathrooms. She’d claimed the top floor. Years of living in the city had taught her she’d be safer there. And the bottom floor she’d rented out to him, her very first tenant ever.

Luckily, the top floor had its own separate entrance, so they’d both have plenty of privacy. And she would have some income to tide her over until she figured out exactly what she wanted to do.

“You’ll have the entire bottom floor,” she said, opening his front door and stepping aside. “Here it is. All yours.”

Still bouncing the baby, he pushed past her and stopped, turning in a half circle to take it all in.

“Wow.” His deep laugh reminded her of hot cocoa spiced with Kahlúa. “When you said it came furnished, I was relieved. I confess, I actually pictured Ikea or maybe an eclectic mix of garage sale and discount store. What I didn’t envision was this. It’s very...” Words seemed to fail him.

“Old lady-ish?” she suggested helpfully, unable to keep from smiling. “All of this stuff belonged to my great-aunt Olivia.” She didn’t tell him the reason she’d kept the fussy, outdated furniture was because she not only didn’t have any of her own, but currently didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“I see,” he said, eyeing a particularly delicate looking chair. “To be honest, I’m afraid I’ll break that if I sit in it.”

She had to admit he was probably right. “I’ll switch it out with something else,” she said, trying to sound businesslike. “Here are your keys.”

When she went to hand them off, her fingers brushed his. Damn. A curious swooping pull swept through her, momentarily making her head spin.

“Are you all right?” he asked yet again, watching her closely, as if he expected her to fall over in a dead faint at any second.

“Yes.” Biting back her second almost automatic apology, she forced a smile. Life with Shawn had compelled her to apologize for everything, even stuff that wasn’t her fault. She’d been consciously trying to break the habit ever since she’d gotten free.

“I guess I’d better leave you to it,” she continued brightly. “I’m just upstairs if you need anything.”

He nodded. “I’ve got your number, as well. Thank you for everything.” As she moved back out into their shared foyer, he firmly and quietly closed his door. A second later, she heard the sound of the dead bolt clicking into place. She couldn’t help but wish she’d dream of him once she went to sleep.

* * *

Exhaustion had Eric wishing he could undress and crawl into bed, but little Garth would need a diaper change and some formula first. Shame about the landlord woman. Though she really was stunning with her fiery red hair, large green eyes and curvy body, she seemed a little daft in the head. The way she’d eyed his baby—as if she’d like to eat him up—had worried Eric. Had he escaped one crazy woman only to relocate with another?

Surely not. Most likely, he was overreacting out of fear. Still, just in case, until he knew her better, he’d make sure to keep his distance.

After he got Garth cleaned up, fed and burped, and put down for a nap, he finally rummaged in his backpack for the sandwich he’d bought at the last gas station. It had gotten crushed and didn’t look the least bit appetizing, but was still cold. He wolfed it down in four bites, wishing he’d had the foresight to buy two. Tomorrow, he’d stock up on food, but for now he had enough of the two things that really mattered—formula and diapers. He had a portable crib in the back of his SUV and the rest of his things would be arriving as soon as the transport company got there.

The one thing he worried most about was his other car. The one he didn’t want to take a chance on damaging by driving cross-country. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be taking it out on icy roads recently coated with salt. He’d park it until the winter season had long passed. Late spring, at the earliest.

One of the reasons he’d chosen to rent this place over the others was that it came with a garage. According to the lease, his landlord got one side of the two-car, detached garage and he got the other. He didn’t plan to use it for the SUV he’d driven across the country. No. He planned to store the 1969 Camaro SS he’d lovingly restored inside his slot in the garage. That car would be his advertisement for the business he planned to start.

Even in California, where customized hot rods were a dime a dozen, his car turned heads. He’d been asked several times where he’d had the work done. Plenty of people had wanted to hire him when he’d told them he’d done it himself. They’d been shocked to learn he worked as a college professor and that he’d restored the car as a hobby. He’d come to realize he might be able to do something he loved and actually earn a living at it. He’d started saving every penny he could, in the hope that one day he could actually start his own business. He’d just about had enough to get serious when Yolanda had gotten pregnant.

And then his life had gone to hell in a handbasket.

No sense in dwelling on the past. Tonight was the first night in his new home and tomorrow would be literally the first day of the rest of his new life. A life where he could keep Garth safe. A life where, hopefully, he could settle in, make friends, get his business established, and find peace and joy again.

The snow continued to fall all through the night. Eric knew because, restless, he got up several times to peer out the window to where the streetlight illuminated the now impassable street. The little house was snug—he’d give it that. No leaky windows, and the radiators put out plenty of heat. He felt cozy and oddly at peace, something he hadn’t quite expected when he’d chucked his entire life and took off to start a new one on the opposite side of the country.

Now he suspected he knew what people who went into the Witness Protection Program felt like. Adrift, needing an anchor, but afraid to put down deep roots in case they needed to move on again. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case here. No way would anyone—especially his ex—think to look for him this far from sunny California.

Finally, sometime around six, he got up, blinking at the brightness from the snow outside, and began puttering around his new living space. The old furniture reminded him of his maternal grandmother’s house—fussy fabrics, lots of dark wood and elaborate ornamentation. He suspected there would have been a plethora of knickknacks covering every conceivable service, which Julia Jacobs had most likely cleared out once she’d arrived. The dark wood gleamed, evidently having recently been dusted and polished, and the space he’d rented looked clean.

Garth woke and Eric got busy changing his boy’s diaper and warming formula so the little guy could have breakfast. Early on Eric had felt a sense of pride at the fact that he’d gotten quite adept at these basic parenting tasks, an accomplishment that had once both amazed and amused him. Now, taking care of his three-month-old was routine, second nature.

After Garth had been fed and burped, Eric sat on the couch and let his son play with a set of colorful plastic rattles. He’d brought only a few of the baby’s toys with him; the others would arrive in the moving truck.

Eventually, Garth fell asleep again and Eric gently placed him back in his temporary crib. He stood for a moment watching his son sleep, his heart full. Finally, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

The knock on his door was decisive, yet quiet enough that it didn’t wake the baby. When Eric opened it, he wasn’t surprised to see his petite landlady standing there. If anything, she looked even more intriguing than she had the night before. He’d never been partial to redheads, but he’d never seen one as beautiful as her. Her emerald-green eyes and lush mouth contrasted with her spattering of freckles, giving her a sexy, girl-next-door vibe. Eyeing her, he felt a jolt of lust, which of course he instantly tamped down.

“Yes?” he asked politely, keeping his body between her and the inside of his place.

A shadow darkened her eyes, almost as if his intense need for privacy wounded her. “I just wanted to apologize,” she said softly. “I know I acted a little strange yesterday and I’m sorry.” Her slight laugh sounded a bit forced, though she kept her chin up and her shoulders back. “Anyway, welcome to Forestwood.” She held out her hand. He noticed her fingernails were short and looked uneven, as if she maybe chewed on them.

The two of them shook. She had a nice, firm grip, which he appreciated.

“I made you a map of town, showing you where all the shops are. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Once he’d accepted the folded map, she turned to go.

“Wait.”

Stopping, she turned, one eyebrow lifted.

“Thank you,” he told her. “As soon as the roads are cleared, I need to hit the grocery store. Any idea what time the plows will come through?”

“I watched the news and this storm was pretty bad. They may not. If the plows don’t make it out this way today, they’ll get our road done tomorrow.”

His heart sank. “Tomorrow?” As he spoke, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had breakfast or even coffee. “I have absolutely no food. I don’t suppose you’d care to sell me a few things to tide me over until then.”

“No food?” Tilting her head, she considered him. “Please tell me you have formula for the baby.”

“Of course I do. And diapers. You can’t travel cross-country with an infant without those. Little Garth is taken care of. I’m the one who needs provisions.”

Amusement sparked in her green eyes. “I’m not going to sell you food,” she said, disappointing him. “But you won’t starve, not in my house. Come with me. I can feed you. I’m an excellent cook.”

Even though his stomach still rumbled with hunger, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to feed him. The idea of her cooking for him seemed way too intimate. Yet what alternative did he have? He could starve or he could eat.

Both embarrassed and wary and, damn it, hungry, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I barely know you. You shouldn’t have to...”

“It’s food.” Her smile tugged at him, invited him to smile back. “Not gold or diamonds or even splitting a bottle of red wine. A couple of simple, hearty meals. Let me make you something, starting with breakfast. You can pay me back after you’ve made it to the store. Now what’ll it be? I’ve got eggs and bread, or oatmeal if you prefer.”

His stomach growled at the thought. Still, he felt obligated to at least make an effort to decline. “I don’t want to impose,” he began.

“You’re not.” She turned to go. “Come on. And bring that adorable baby with you.”

Heaven help him, he went. The small sandwich from the night before had long ago faded from memory and he needed to eat something. Anything. Even cold cereal. He figured he’d go with oatmeal, since she probably had instant, and it would be less trouble and less intimate than asking her to fry him up a couple eggs.

Since Garth was still asleep, it was a simple matter of picking up the portable crib and carrying it with him. Good thing the kid was a sound sleeper. Eric tromped all the way up the steep flight of stairs and his son never woke. Garth had always been like that.

His lovely landlord had left her door open for him. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal out of a simple kindness on her part, but he chalked it up to being gun-shy after what had happened with Yolanda. Still, he couldn’t stand outside on the landing forever. At least, not if he wanted to eat.

Chapter 3

Taking a deep breath, Eric stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t know what he’d expected, maybe a carbon copy of his, but her space looked completely different. Minimal furnishings, for one. Clearly, she’d chosen only what she wanted from the furniture her great-aunt had left behind. And then she’d added some other pieces, bright colors mostly. Lots of patterns, stripes and swirls and polka dots. Feminine stuff, but surprisingly comfortable looking.

Turning slowly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Instead of looking garish or confusing, the effect was cheerful and homey. In a bohemian sort of way. In fact, it reminded him of photos he’d seen of some of the dorms at the college where he used to work.

“In here,” Julia called. He followed the sound of her voice and found her standing in front of the stove.

Her kitchen, too, appeared bright and clean. She’d made an attempt to modernize it, though the aging appliances and chipped counters showed its age. He set the travel crib near the table and against the wall, hopefully out of the way.

“Welcome. So what’ll it be?” she asked, her friendly tone and relaxed posture inviting him to loosen his guard.

“Oatmeal is fine,” he told her. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. You have instant, right?”

She eyed him, her expression thoughtful. “I do. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

It wasn’t, but he nodded. “Oatmeal is great on a snowy morning.”

“Coffee?” Handing him a cup, she pointed toward a half-full coffeepot. “Help yourself.”

In California, he’d come to appreciate good coffee. He’d even purchased a specialty brewer, which was on its way here with his other personal belongings. But right now, he would have settled for instant. With no expectations other than it being hot, he filled his cup and took a sip.

It was good. More than good. Right up there with the gourmet coffee served at the corner java shop he used to stop at every morning on his way to campus. A second sip and he made a small sound of pleasure, causing her to swing around and grin at him.

He felt the power of that grin like a punch in his stomach. Slightly disoriented, he finally smiled back. He definitely hadn’t expected this. Expected her.

“I take it you like my coffee?”

“I do.” His third sip made him widen his smile into a grin. “It’s delicious. I can’t tell you how badly I needed this.”

“I can imagine.” She gestured at the table, a round wooden one that she’d painted turquoise. Around it were four wooden chairs, all painted different colors. “Sit. I’ll have your breakfast ready in a minute.”

Slightly less uncomfortable, he pulled out a chair. After bustling around for a second, she put a bowl in the microwave. When it chimed, she used pot holders to remove it, dropped in a handful of raisins and carried it over to him, along with a spoon and a paper napkin. “Here you go.”

After one bite, he had to fight not to inhale the entire bowl. “This doesn’t taste like instant oatmeal,” he commented, before shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“Oh yeah?” She took a seat across from him, cradling her own mug of coffee. “It is, but I mashed a banana in with it before I micro-zapped it. It’s one of my favorite breakfasts in the world. Then I added raisins and cinnamon. Do you like it?”

Since he’d nearly finished his bowl, he nodded. Two more bites and he was done. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “I was really hungry.” So hungry that everything tasted better around her.

“I could tell. I made two packets, since one is never enough.”

He could have eaten two more, but he’d already imposed enough. Sipping his coffee, he nodded before glancing out her kitchen window at the snow still piled up outside. “Judging from your porch railings, I’d say we must have gotten at least ten inches.”

“Yep. They said on the news it was more like a foot.”

“I believe it.” One more swallow and he’d emptied his cup. He wondered if she’d mind if he had another. “Do you really think it will be tomorrow until the plows come through? I need to get to a grocery store at least.”

She seemed remarkably unconcerned. “It’ll probably be today. That all depends where they decide to go first. But if you don’t make it to the store, I’ll make sure you don’t starve. Oh, and if you do get out, I’ll be happy to watch the baby while you shop. No need to have to deal with taking him out into weather like this.”

Watch the baby? He glanced at Garth, still sleeping peacefully. After his initial frisson of alarm, he considered her. He really needed to stop being so suspicious. No way could every woman he met turn out to be as psychotic and unbalanced as Yolanda. He had to admit, if only to himself, maybe he’d gotten paranoid. But then, who would blame him?

The truth was eventually he would have to find someone who could babysit Garth from time to time. More, once he started scouting for locations to open up his custom car shop. He’d definitely need to get day care during regular business hours so he could work. The thought tied his stomach in knots. He didn’t like being away from his son, not for more than a few minutes at a time. He didn’t know how people did it, returning to work out of necessity when their child was only a few months old. Like them, he’d have no choice but to do the same. Not yet, though. Not yet.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself.

“I might take you up on that,” he replied. Surely he could let her watch Garth for an hour while he stocked his fridge and pantry.

“Just let me know when.”

Again he glanced out her window at the pristine white snow. “As soon as the plows clear the streets.”

“Do you have personal items arriving?” she asked. “Baby furniture, your television, that sort of thing?”

“My moving truck is supposed to arrive in a few days,” he said, eyeing his empty mug longingly. “Assuming the roads are good enough for them to get through.”

“Good.” She grabbed the coffeepot and brought it over. “More coffee? Don’t worry, I can always make more.”

Relieved, he nodded. After she’d refilled his cup, he took another deep drink and sighed. Just as good the second time. “I promise I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

The snorting sound she made surprised him. Humor danced in her eyes, inviting him to share it with her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s coffee, not Patrón Silver.”

And then she laughed, the low sound pleasing and harmonious. “Occasionally there’s nothing better than a shot of really good tequila, you know?”

He actually did. After a second of hesitation, he nodded in agreement. “Thanks again for everything. I’m just not used to mooching off anyone.”

When she pulled out the chair across from him, he saw she’d refilled her mug, too. Like him, she drank her coffee black. “Tell me about yourself, Eric Mikkelson. Why are you moving to the Catskills from sunny and hip California? Is it for a new job or do you have family here?”

Personal questions. Though instead of immediately putting him on the defensive once again, the friendly, casual way she phrased her questions actually relaxed him. She sounded interested rather than inquisitive. “No family. I moved here to go into a new line of work. I’m planning on opening my own business in town, once I find the perfect space.”

“Awesome.” To his surprise, she didn’t ask him what kind of business. “But still. Why Forestwood? We’re not exactly a metropolis. We’re barely even on the map.”

Since he knew from her aura that she, too, was a shifter, he felt comfortable enough to tell her the truth. “Because I read the article about the Drakkor. Any town that will lovingly shelter an individual without knowing or understanding what kind of being she might be is the kind of place where I feel I’ll fit in.”

At first, she didn’t move. Didn’t comment or respond, just watched him, her big green eyes contemplative. “The Drakkor. After that article was published, we got a lot of tourists. Mostly, they just wanted to see a real, live dragon. But no one actually wanted to move here.”

“For me, it isn’t about seeing a Drakkor.” The earnestness in his voice surprised him. “It’s about finding friendly people. Neighbors who don’t judge you because you’re different. The sort of kindhearted community where I can raise my son.” He stopped, slightly embarrassed to have revealed so much to a stranger.

Tilting her head, she considered him. Then a slow smile bloomed, transforming her from really attractive to stunningly beautiful. His heart actually skipped a beat.

“That’s really pretty damn amazing,” she said finally, her warm voice imbibing the compliment with more.

What was it about this woman? Though they’d just met the day before, he felt as if he’d known her for a long time. He wasn’t sure what to think about that.

Instead of allowing himself to bask in the glow of her praise, he turned the discussion to her. “How about you?” he asked. “Were you born and raised here or did you make your way from somewhere else, too?”

Her smile faded. “I’d never been here before until a month ago. A great-aunt whom I didn’t even know existed died. She left me this house and all the furniture, so I moved here.”

“What about your job? Did you leave that, too, or are you able to work from home?”

Ducking her head, she shrugged. “I worked at a few different things. Dog walking, which is really in demand in the city, some waitressing and even some temporary secretarial work. None of it was difficult to leave.”

“In the city?” He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t say where precisely she’d lived before. Since he’d been open with her, he figured he’d ask. “What city?”

“New York. Manhattan to be exact.” Again a shadow crossed her face. “Only a couple of hours’ drive from here, but it might as well be across the country.”

He knew what she meant. The difference between some areas of California was also like that.

When he finished his second cup of coffee, she poured him more without asking. Then she emptied the last of the pot into her own cup before she sat back down. “So far, I like it here a lot,” she said. “Though I haven’t been here very long. I guess we can learn the town together.”