Page 24 of Shifters in the Night

“Sleep well, Lia,” he called as she popped her door open. She waved at him, closing it behind her.

The trailer was clean and as spacious as such a compact living space could be, sort of like a corporate tiny house. But there were no personal touches, no pictures of friends or family, no art, no books, just gray carpet, gray couch, gray countertops, gray ceiling. It was just so … plastic-y. Was “plastic-y” a word? It should be. It was so far away from the natural peace of the woods, which she missed already.

Mystic Bayou was not what she was used to. There were only a handful of little local businesses on one main street in the middle of town. There were no boutiques or spas or even a decent restaurant that she could see, but she felt … at home here. There was something very comfortable about this place.

She sighed, heading towards her bathroom to get ready for bed, feeling a little sad and detached about the prospect. Normally, she would be making lists in her head of what she needed to accomplish, energized by the prospect of working down that list. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel that excitement about getting up and going to work. There were other things she wanted to do – talking with friends and seeing Jon and exploring the area. There had never really been anything else she wanted to do but work.

What was Mystic Bayou doing to her?

7

JON

Life was a lot simpler when you worked alone; or at least, you got along a lot better with your coworkers.

Jon sat on a stool at his workbench, listening to the ocean waves outside his workshop. The ocean was drawn to selkies, just like they were drawn to the ocean, so the water outside his house was drawn up from the Gulf, clean and clear.

Jon needed that peace and calm. He’d lost another job that morning. He’d never had to worry about money before. His house was paid for and his needs were simple. What would happen if suddenly he wasn’t making enough money to cover even those simple needs? He didn’t want to have to ask Will for help. He didn’t want to start taking on lawn mower jobs, which almost happened when the 2008 financial crisis hit the locals especially hard.

No, he wouldn’t whine. He would do what he had to in order to meet his responsibilities. A Carmody didn’t hide from work, when there was work to be done.

Somehow, his thoughts turned to Lia and her expensive shoes and fancy education. He’d spent most of the morning thinking about Lia and the kisses they’d shared. On some level, Jon was grateful his grandfather wasn’t around to see this because he would have ribbed the hell out of Jon for “mooning” over a girl. And how could he even think about her when his business was having trouble? He had engine grease under his nails for goodness’ sake. She needed someone who would take her to nice restaurants in New Orleans and order good wine in proper French.

A truck model he hadn’t seen since his misspent youth – a 1950 Chevrolet 3100 in deep green – turned onto his driveway. Was this a potential job? Sometimes auto mechanics who knew his history would send him clients because they didn’t trust themselves to repair vintage cars. Nah. The truck might have been a little dinged up, but Jon could hear how smoothly the engine ran. It was a gorgeous, slick sound like butter over silk. He couldn’t imagine the parts were original, but still, it was admirable to keep such an old vehicle in good working condition. That took a lot of upkeep.

A tall woman with broad shoulders and thick rust-colored hair stepped out of the truck. Nearly as tall as Jon, she was wearing overalls tied around her waist, revealing a faded green t-shirt that read, “Lemmy’s Boat Service – Gideon, LA.” She grinned at him and waved. “Hi!”

He was going to have to talk to a person he didn’t know. Shit.

“Er, hello, can I help you?” he asked, wiping his hands on the handkerchief from his back pocket.

“Eva Boudreaux, and I’m hoping I can help you,” she said, stretching her hand out for a shake. He hesitated for a second, and then reached forward. Her hand felt as strong and calloused as his. He couldn’t help but respect her for it. Sonja and Jillian had gone on this whole rant at dinner one night about how sometimes women felt the need to pull back on their strength, to avoid making men uncomfortable. “I just moved into town and I’m looking for work. I heard you were the only boat repair spot in town.”

“I guess you haven’t heard about the jet ski place,” he muttered.

“Sorry?” Eva asked.

“Never mind,” he told her.

Eva smiled brightly in a way that made him think of Lia and her “pleasant professional face.” She pulled a binder out of her truck and handed it to him. The first page was a very polished resume that was covered in text. She didn’t just have diplomas from the Florida Elite Marine Mechanic School, but she’d studied advanced marine electrical systems and navigational equipment. She’d done apprenticeships at shops along the Gulf coast. She even had certifications from the National Institute for Automotive Service Excellence, which explained why her truck ran so well.

The rest of the binder was full of pictures of boats she’d rebuilt or repaired – everything from small speedboats to the sort of sailboats they used in world cup races.

“I figured it was easier to look for work than to try to open my own shop, so I thought I would come by and see if you have any spots open.”

“I don’t know.” He blinked at her. If this resume was legit, and he suspected her listed qualifications were probably an understatement, Eva Boudreaux would be wasted in Mystic Bayou. He would never be able to provide the sort of jobs she would find challenging. He would never be able to pay her what she was worth. He’d have her in pontoon boat transmissions and fishing boat tune-ups.

“Is it because you don’t think I can do the job?” she asked, irritation tinging her voice.

“It has nothing to do with you being a woman,” he assured her. “I’m not a complete asshole. It’s just, are you sure you want to work for me? With this kind of background, you could run your own shop in some big city.”

“I don’t like paperwork,” she told him, shaking her head. “It’s part of the reason I left my last job. Lemmy kept sticking me with the office work because I have a ‘good phone voice,’ which is code for ‘we think you should do all the stuff we don’t want to do.’”

“Why do you want to move to the Bayou?” he asked.

She laughed, her mood brightening instantly. “I heard whispers about this town from the time I was a kid. I even felt the pull. But I didn’t have the nerve to move here until I saw all the news stories. A whole town of shifters? A town where I don’t have to hide my nature? Sounds like paradise. Besides, did you miss the part earlier about the paperwork and phones?”

Jon stared at Eva, long and hard. Having someone else in the shop would certainly help him work through his waiting list and he’d lose fewer clients. But there would be drawbacks. He would lose his solitude and the total control over the business he’d enjoyed for so long. It seemed stupid to jump into this quickly, but he had the feeling it would be even more foolish to pass up an opportunity the universe seemed to be handing him, gift-wrapped.

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