Page 8 of Lion's Little Scamp

Taking a breath, she pushed away the worries. She needed to stay in the here and now, which meant going up the stairs and seeing where she would be living for the next thirty days. She climbed the stairs, counting each as she stepped on it. Fifteen steps to the small landing with a closed door on the other side.

“Go ahead and open the door. It’s not locked,” Harrigan said with a gentle squeeze to her hand.

Releasing his hand, she used it to turn the knob and push the door open. Stepping inside, she jumped and gave a squeak when the lights flashed on.

“The lights come on automatically when anyone enters the living room. The other rooms don’t work that way, but we’ll have to program your voice into the system so you can turn the other rooms on and off.”

“Oooookay,” Irish said as she looked around.

The main living area was one huge open space. The kitchen was in the front left corner and separated from the rest of the room by a counter with four stools on this side of it. The rest of the space was a giant mancave, with oversized, overstuffed brown leather furniture, all turned to face the biggest television screen she had ever seen hanging on the left wall where the kitchen ended. On the opposite wall was a wall of bookshelves, filled with hundreds of books. A book nerd, Irish had to admit that she could not wait to explore all those volumes, as long as Harrigan did not mind.

The floors were golden brown while the walls were a creamy gold color. There were a few pictures on the bookshelves between book collections, and a few more hanging on the far wall between the three doors there, but this was definitely a man’s room. There were no pillows or fuzzy blankets or anything else to soften the somewhat stark space.

It took her a moment for her to realize there weren’t any windows. How did Harrigan manage to live here without any windows?

“The bedrooms and bathroom are back here,” Harrigan said as he walked – no prowled, across the room toward the back wall and the three doors. He opened the center one first. “Bathroom. Towels are in the closet.”

She peeked in and saw a small, functional bathroom with the basics, and a narrow closet just inside the door. She was happy to see it had a bathtub. She could not wait to fill it with hot water and looked forward to having a real bath instead of a cold shower with the water flowing out of a five-gallon bucket or a quick wash in a gas station restroom.

She stepped back before following Harrigan to the door to the right side of the building. “This is my room,” he said opening the door and turning on the light. He then stepped aside and allowed her to look around for a moment.

Like the main living area, this room was done in shades of gold and brown with a huge bed on a platform in the center of the room. It had a black comforter and several large pillows on it. A huge armoire sat on the right side of the room next to a long, low dresser. A recliner with a small table and standing light to the left of the door were the only other furnishings. There were no other decorations, nothing to give the room a personality.

Irish stepped back and then followed Harrigan to the final door. “This will be your room,” he said, his voice deep and gruff.

Once he opened the door and turned on the light, Irish stepped past him into what would be her home for the next thirty nights. The furnishings in this room were similar to Harrigan’s bedroom, but the walls were painted a cream color and the comforter and pillows on the bed were gold and turquoise.

“It’s nice. Thank you for opening your home to me,” Irish said as she set her backpack on the dresser. Harrigan entered and set the bag containing her Bratburg uniforms next to it.

“I’ll let you get settled. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. When you’re done unpacking, come to the living room so we can talk over a few things.”

“Yes, Sir,” Irish answered automatically. “Um, Sir?”

“Yes, little scamp?

“Would it be okay if I took a shower before we talked?” she whispered.

She had not had a chance to clean up in two days and really, really would love to be clean before having a serious discussion. It would not do much to help her confidence, but at least she would not be afraid of offending her guardian with her smell.

Harrigan blinked at her hesitation. “Of course. I should have thought of that. Get unpacked, then take a shower and put on your pajamas. We’ll talk after that.”

Instead of pointing out that unless there was a pair of pajamas with her uniforms, she didn’t own one, Irish simply said, “Thank you,” and turned to the bags.

Forcing himself out of her room, Harrigan wondered how many more times he would fuck up before he finally got the hang of being a Daddy. Of course, she would want to clean up. He should have thought of that himself.

Stepping into his bedroom, he closed the door. He quickly changed out of the uniform he had worn to the city and exchanged it for a pair of loose-fitting navy-blue sweatpants and a light gray t-shirt. After hanging his uniform up and putting his boots on the floor of the armoire, he returned to the living room to wait for Irish to join him.

Settling on the couch, he opened the book he had been reading and tried to concentrate on the words on the page instead of how he was going to explain to Irish that he was not only her guardian for the next thirty days but was also her mate and they would be together for the rest of their lives.

He looked up when he heard her fabric shifting. “Is it okay if I shower now?” Irish asked from her bedroom doorway.

“You don’t have to ask to use the bathroom, scamp. I’m not that harsh a taskmaster.” Harrigan found himself smiling, though he was not normally a happy guy. A lion shifter, he was more comfortable growling than grinning, but something about this woman made his spirits feel lighter.

Irish nodded and hurried into the bathroom with something purple clutched to her chest. The water began to run a few minutes later, allowing Harrigan to return once again to his planning.

Chapter Six

The hot water felt glorious as it rained down over her. It might have been a simple shower, but it felt decadent to Irish. And warm. Though tempted to stand under the spray until the hot water ran out, she forced herself to turn off the taps after washing everything from hair to toes. Twice.

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