Page 33 of Shifters in the Night

“And with all your contacts, you didn’t know she was moving here, too?” she asked.

“I didn’t even know she worked for the League. Part of her contract was guaranteed secrecy,” Alex replied.

Lia nodded. “Smart.”

“I’m not pining for her or anything,” he added quickly. “It’s just that seeing her with someone else now, sort of feels like poking a bruise?”

She nodded. “I’ve never had that kind of relationship. All of my love affairs have been very civil. Calm, orderly, considerate. I think my last boyfriend broke up with me via text just before his plane took off and I didn’t even mind.”

She wondered what that said about her. That her investment in the relationship was so shallow that something that any other woman would have railed about on social media just rolled off her back? Before coming here, she thought she had her life together in a compact little package. Was she secretly a mess this whole time and didn’t even realize it?

“And you call them love affairs, which is awfully grown up,” Alex said.

“Pretentious parents,” she said shrugging.

“Well, take it from someone who has done the screaming, hysterical breakup – more than once – calm and orderly is preferable,” he said. “It might involve less feeling, but less of your stuff gets burnt in a dumpster.”

“You have a lot of unexpected layers, Alex Lancaster,” she said, lifting her fork. He raised his own and tapped it to hers like a toast. She paused. “Did you say carnival, back there?”

He grinned at her. “Yes, I did.”

The bell above the shop door rang and Jon and his brother walked into the room. She saw the moment he recognized her. The pleased smile that spread across his face stopped in a millisecond, turning into upset and doubt. Because she was sitting there with Alex. He nodded to her and she smiled in return. Jon turned his back to her as he sat down and she felt something in her chest crack, cold as ice and twice as slippery.

9

JON

The next few days were a mixed bag for Jon. That bag contained little gold stars mixed in with a lot of manure.

Things were already looking up for Carmody & Sons. With Eva’s help, he was working through his waitlist at double speed and his clients were thrilled. He was taking on more jobs without that rock-like sense of dread sinking his belly.

And he was enjoying his time in the shop a lot more than he used to. Eva was fun to spend the workday with. She worked quickly and cleverly, and made no excuses. She seemed to know when he wanted to talk and when he didn’t. Overall, his fears of sharing his shop with a non-Carmody had all come to nothing.

So you would think he would feel elbow-deep in clover, but no. Even since the incident he’d come to think of as “the most awkward eye contact in the world,” he’d had this strange, nagging feeling that he’d lost something. And he couldn’t even be mad about it. Lia had looked so happy and relaxed, sitting there with Lancaster. They were engaged in a conversation she clearly found fascinating, the way she was laughing – probably about modern art or something. (Lancaster looked like a modern art kind of guy.) And yeah, it was gutting, seeing her there with someone else, enjoying herself, but she just looked so content. He wanted that for her. He got the feeling she hadn’t had much of it in her constantly shifting life.

So he’d sat with his back to her, because then at the very least, he didn’t have to watch her enjoy herself so thoroughly. And for days, he’d kept to the house, telling himself that he was just focused on getting into the work groove with Eva. He wasn’t sulking or trying to avoid seeing Lia in town. He was being a responsible adult-shaped man. For the most part.

When Lia didn’t “wander” into his yard again, he figured that he was doing the right thing. Obviously, she didn’t want to see him, either. He was doing them both a favor.

And then his brother had to come in with his meddling bossiness and mess it all up.

It was a weeknight and he was freshly showered, having sweated his way through refitting an engine on a speedboat, with Eva’s help. He was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired, knowing that he was doing what was needed to support himself and build his grandfather’s business back up.

He walked out on his dock, contemplating whether he was up to cooking for himself or if he should accept defeat and heat up one of his frozen lasagnas. He looked down the shoreline to see Eva, sitting on the edge of the water. But why was she sitting on the ground when he had a comfortable dock?

Eva had been a fantastic “tenant” so far. He stuck to the house and she stuck to her impeccably kept trailer. But now he wondered if he should have done more to make her feel welcome. He headed back into the house and poured two glasses of sweet tea, the universal sign of, “welcome to my home, I’m sorry if I was an inhospitable jackass.”

“You know, there’s perfectly good furniture over there for this sort of thing,” he called as he approached, nodding toward the dock. Eva turned, smiling warmly.

“Thanks, but every once in a while, it’s good to be in contact with the dirt,” she said, accepting the glass of tea. He’d heard similar things said by some of the fae folk around town, but the local custom of not asking about species forbade him from questioning it.

He glanced back at her trailer. “Everything OK there?”

“You’re my favorite landlord so far, mostly because you charge me nothing,” she told him. “But also, because this is the best spot I’ve lived in a long time. Quiet, except for the birds. Close to the water. And I can see the stars at night. Even back home, we didn’t see this many stars.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jon said.

“So, the obviously fabulous lady who was here the other day. Is she going to be coming around again any time soon?” Eva asked.

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