Page 13 of Shifters in the Night

She beamed at him. “That’s probably the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten. And I’ve gotten some doozies.”

“I’m sure you have.” He swallowed heavily, as her knees brushed against his. She set her bag aside and began searching the table for something. Over her shoulder, he saw that several of the pie-oglers were giving him dirty looks again, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because Lia skipped the line or because they were jealous she was sitting with him.

“I don’t see any food other than pie,” she noted quietly, glancing at the other tables.

“It’s a pie shop,” he said, nodding and making her laugh.

“I know, but this is the only restaurant in town. What do you do when you want a pizza or a nice pasta?” Lia asked.

“Well, I make myself a nice pasta, because again, I can cook,” he told her. “Or you can drive about thirty minutes to Swampy’s for a pizza.”

She made a disappointed pouty face that should not have been adorable on a grown woman. But God help him, it was, and he had to look away, so he didn’t make an idiot out of himself.

“No delivery, I’m guessing,” Lia said.

He shook his head. She scrunched her nose up and uttered some soft curse under her breath that sounded something like, “build a Pizza Palace here, I swear to God!” He laughed at the sheer indignity at her inability to freely access pizza.

Siobhan, a small woman with deep lines in her face and short gray hair frizzling over pointed ears, walked over to the table and dropped a plate in front of Lia with a glass of water. Jon’s dark brows arched. Normally, Siobhan went through a whole “staring” routine where she tried to figure out what needs the customer had and which pie would fulfill those needs. But today, she walked away from the table without saying a word.

“I didn’t order this,” Lia whispered.

Jon shrugged. “Yeah, but Siobhan’s cranky today – something about someone asking if she used organic produce – so, I wouldn’t ask for a full explanation of her right now. That’s the cinnamon pie.”

Still frowning, Lia poked at the pie with her fork. Even from across the table, the pie smelled amazing, its dark brown crust sending notes of sugar and spice into the air. She looked so unhappy, he suddenly wondered whether she ate sweets. It would explain why she looked so stricken. Maybe she didn’t even like pie. Nobody was perfect, right?

Shrugging, she took a big bite and whimpered in a manner that was positively indecent.

Nope, she was perfect. He was doomed.

Her eyes closed and an expression of absolute bliss settled on her face. Her throaty, musical noises sent all of the blood in his body below his belt. He was eternally grateful that he was sitting behind a table, but he didn’t have the volume in his brain to process much else in the way of thought. Her eyes popped open and he almost startled, because staring at her in this vulnerable moment felt more intrusive than seeing her naked.

A lovely rose flush stained her cheeks as she glanced around the room. More than one person was looking at her with wide, fascinated eyes. Jon couldn’t blame them. Lia seemed to shake off the momentary embarrassment and took another bite.

“It reminds me of holidays at home with my parents,” she murmured. “Of course, most of those meals were catered, because unlike you, my mother can’t cook. I would say she shouldn’t be trusted anywhere near a stove, but I’m not entirely sure she knows how to turn one on. But she’s amazing at hiring caterers. In Seattle, she had this one chef that made cinnamon babka. It tasted like everything you would want in a homemade food – sweet and spicy and warm. Just, comforting, you know? This tastes just like that.”

Jon grinned at her, even if he did feel a little bad for sexualizing her memories of home. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “What do you have there?”

“Apple streusel,” he said, pushing his plate towards her without a second thought. “It reminds me of sitting out on the water, alone, in my first little boat. People think it’s quiet, but there’s plenty to listen to with the birds and the bugs and the fish splashing under you. I can’t remember ever feeling so peaceful.”

“Well, I’m going to stick with the cinnamon because I’m nothing if not loyal,” she said primly, before tucking another bite of her own pie into her mouth. “But I may try to order that next time.”

“Good luck with that,” Jon snorted, but she just giggled. He loved the way she laughed so easily, and that she had so many of them. He couldn’t remember making anyone laugh this much and he found he could get addicted to it very easily. “So you’ve lived in a lot of places?”

There was that grin again, the one that made his heart feel like it was stuttering to a stop. “How’d you guess?”

Jon jerked his shoulder. “You’re not put off by much. Not the tiny grocery. Not meeting with our bear-mayor. Well, except for a pie-only menu, that was just a step too far.”

She snickered. “Yeah … wait, bear-mayor?”

“Zed’s a bear shifter,” Jon said, cackling at her shock. “He didn’t tell you? Normally, that’s the first thing he tells people when he meets them.”

“No, and it’s not like I was going to guess bear! Though, now that I think about it, it makes a certain amount of sense.” She pursed her lips. “I suppose that’s part of the fun of living here, huh?”

“That’s a real nice way to look at it,” he told her. “I’m kind of surprised to see you out on the weekend. At the store, you sort of struck me as someone who works through the weekend … and holidays. And maybe in her sleep.”

“That doesn’t strike me as a compliment!” She laughed. He shrugged, relaxing back into his seat, and was grateful she didn’t seem insulted. “Well, I don’t work on holidays or when I’m supposed to be sleeping. I happen to believe in the healing power of the REM cycle. But I do occasionally work on weekends, particularly when there’s some social event that requires me to represent the company. But Sundays are mine. I don’t answer my cell or even look at my emails. I usually go for a run – as a human – but something just told me that today was a good day for pie.”

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