Page 6 of The President

No clue how I instinctively know that as a fact because I definitely don’t. It’s just a feeling I have that he and his brothers take protecting those they care about seriously.

“Maybe I should come there,” Angie muses. “There’s nothing here for me, Vivi.”

“Then come. You know I’d love to have you here and you can work with me until you find something you want to do!” I exclaim, excited by the prospect of her being with me.

Because if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been lonely as hell. It’s hard to go from having your ride or die with you every day to sneaking phone calls with her here and there. Sure, I’ve met a lot of people since arriving in Zephyr Hills, but they’re more along the lines of acquaintances and I haven’t found anyone, outside of Fox, that I want to put myself out there for. I haven’t found those connections. I’ve had no girl’s nights out, or coffee with a friend. Not that I did a lot of that before, but Angie and I were frequently together, and I had other friends in our pack as well.

“Okay, I will,” she replies, and I have to bite my lip to hold in my squeal of excitement. “I’ll let you know when I’m headed your way. Gotta run, babe. You make sure you fill me in onallthe good stuff, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I probably won’t because as close as we are, I know that when we finallydomate it’ll likely be intensely private. Still, I can toss her a bone or two, I’m sure.

She snickers because she knows me so well. “Yeah, I know better, but something’s better than nothing.”

Shrugging, I say, “Love you, Ang. Please, please be careful. Write my number down and don’t bring your phone with you in case there’s a tracking program on it or something. Buy a pay-as-you-go phone once you’re out of the territory.”

“We watch way too many of those shows,” she teases. “I love you too, and I’ll be sure to do that. You’re positive I can stay with you?”

“Even if one of us has to sleep in the bathtub, I’ll always have room for you.”

“Bye, bitch.”

“Bye, ho.”

I’m humming as I finish tidying the shop. Even with the unspoken threat of Carter hanging over my head, I have a lot to be excited about with Angie coming and finding my mate. After I do the daily sales report on the register, I bundle the money into the bank bag and lock it in the safe, then turn the sign to ‘Closed’ and lock the door. Turning off the overhead lights, I leave the display ones on then head into the back of the shop to make sure nothing needs to be cleaned before I head up to my apartment.

There’s a set of stairs off the back hallway that lead up to my tiny sanctuary and I quickly unlock the door and step inside before locking it behind me. I have enough time to shower and change before Fox arrives with our dinner. As I head to my bedroom, I glance around and am glad I’m the type of person who keeps a tidy environment. It means I won’t have to rush around to pick things up nor will I be embarrassed when Fox gets here.

Grabbing a pair of stonewash capris, I waffle between a T-shirt and a tank top, then decide on a light purple scoop-neck tee instead since it’s not weighted down, and the material breathes. Carrying it, along with fresh undergarments into the bathroom, I set them on the counter then turn the shower on so the water heats. Once the steam starts to rise, I quickly strip out of my work clothes, toss them into the hamper, then step inside, sighing loudly when the water hits my body.

Ever since Fox and I saw one another, my body has felt heated, so I should probably use cold water right now except I positively love hot showers. I make quick work of bathing myself, glad I remembered to put my shower cap on since my hair is long and thick. It takes forever to dry, which is why I don’t want to take the time to do it now. After I’m dressed, I waver back and forth over whether or not to put makeup back on, then decide not to since I’m basically in for the night and with mates, there’s no need to try and make yourself look picture perfect, they’re drawn to who you are, not what you look like.

Instead, I apply my moisturizer, brush my teeth, then comb out my hair so it falls down my back in long, silky waves. Satisfied that I’m as prepared as I can possibly be, I wipe down the bathroom then head into the kitchen to see what I have in stock that I can offer him to drink.

As I’m perusing the contents of my refrigerator, the doorbell rings and the monitor pops up on my phone’s app. I see Fox standing there, a huge bag in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. Grinning, I hurriedly unlock my door then practically fly down the stairs to let him in.

“Hey,” I say once he’s inside and the door is once again locked.

“You didn’t even ask who it was,” he replies, looking none too happy with me.

Well, alrighty then. “Because when you rang the bell, the app popped up on my phone and I saw you standing there. I could’ve said something, but I opted to come down and let you in instead.”

“Just worried about you being safe, Vivi,” he says. “Now, lead the way, because the smells from this food are killing me.” I hear his stomach rumble as if in agreement and giggle as I lead him back upstairs and into my apartment. Once we’re both inside, I lock the door, then show him into my kitchen.

I have a small, four-seater table which turns out to be a good thing when he pulls out one container that holds two of the biggest steaks I’ve ever seen, followed by two baked potatoes, with all the fixings in separate plastic ramekins, as well as grilled asparagus.

“I took a chance on how you like your steak cooked,” he says as I grab plates and eating utensils before joining him at the table to set them down.

“Usually, medium. I know a lot of shifters prefer them rare, but if I’m eating something rare, then it’s because I hunted it. When I’m in this form, I prefer my chicken and pork thoroughly cooked, and my steak either medium or medium well. Just depends on who’s doing the cooking,” I reply. “Do you want an icy mug for your beer?”

“No, I’ll drink straight from the bottle, Vivi.”

Nodding, I pull down a wine glass then pour myself a glass of the blackberry merlot I enjoy from time to time. Taking a shallow sip, I realize I probably should’ve finished this bottle sooner rather than later, and pour it down the sink, along with the rest of the bottle. Instead, I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and join Fox at the table.

“It all looks delicious,” I tell him as I start doctoring my baked potato.

“I have roasted corn on the cob as well if you don’t like asparagus,” he says.

“I like them both. I’m not like a lot of shifters who think vegetables are a bad word,” I tease.

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