Page 191 of Secret Shifters Next Door

It was only a little after noon when I started making dinner, but I wanted everything ready in advance. It would be too humiliating not to be done by seven when I told him it would be ready. The good thing about the dish was that it could stay warm on the stove once it was ready and be as good as it was fresh—anything that limited the stress I was under.

It took an hour to get everything prepped, sliced, peeled, and ready. The pressure cooker would be able to cook the meat and beans in an hour. That meant I had a long break to write before starting the real cooking. I snatched my laptop and sat at the window overlooking the apartment’s tiny balcony. It would have been nice to sit outside, but it was way too cold. Winter had pretty much already come to Lilly Valley, it seemed.

Writing let me push all the chaotic thoughts out of my mind. Everything that had been weighing on me vanished, and I found myself lost in the world I was creating. A world of superpowers, sexy guys, love, and danger. Luckily, I’d set a timer because I could totally zone out while writing. The last thing I wanted was for Miles to knock on my door, startle me out of my story, and find me still not showered or dressed. The food was still raw in the fridge. The buzzer on my phone snapped me to attention, and I glanced at the clock. Four-thirty, time to get started.

I threw most of the ingredients into the pressure cooker and turned it on, then I made a simple chopped salad and set it in thefridge before going to the shower. I spent five minutes deciding on whether or not to wash my hair—far too long to worry about something so trivial, but that was who I was. I washed it, then freaked out when it took forever to dry. I really needed to get a new hairdryer, but all the years in foster care had made me frugal to a fault. Living your whole life wearing hand-me downs and donated clothes and never having new toys, shoes, or books, tended to cause mental scarring. I was still working through that.

Naked, I stood in front of the mirror and studied my body. Not that I thought Miles would see me like this. The thought alone made my face go red. Were my boobs too small? What if he liked small boobs? Did guys actually like small boobs? I was so pale, ugh. Did I have time to find a spray tan place? Maybe I could put make-up on my whole upper body to give myself some color? No, that was stupid. What was wrong with me? I turned and looked over my shoulder at my ass. At least that was decent. Maybe I’d be lucky, and he was a butt guy.

It was a physical effort getting my mind to stop deconstructing my reflection. If I’d continued on that path, I’d soon be wondering if he’d notice my pinky toes were too small, or that my right earlobe was a half millimeter higher than my left. Gritting my teeth, I went about getting dressed and putting makeup on.

The pressure cooker timer went off at six. Once the pressure valve was done releasing, I took the lid off and groaned in pleasure at the aroma of the food. That was the moment I realized I hadn’t eaten anything the entire day. I guess there were worse things you could have for breakfast. Using a wooden spoon, I took a sample bite and was thrilled that it tasted perfect. I set the pressure cooker to keep the stew warm and went to work on the plantains.

My nerves escalated As the clock on the stove crept closer to seven. Part of me was excited to have a dinner guest. The other part was terrified of having him over. I tried to remind myself that it was only dinner with a neighbor. My incredibly hot neighbor, yes, but still only a neighbor. This was nothing more than, like, a cocktail hour. Two strangers getting to know each other. That was all. As I finished dinner, I repeated that mantra in my head.

I arranged the salad bowl on the counter along with the platter of sweet fried plantains and the stew, which I’d ladled into a bowl. This was too much for a not-date.Shit. Would he look at this and run for the hills? Should I have just done something simple? Spaghetti and meatballs? Taco night? As my thoughts spiraled out of control, the doorbell rang. I spun and stared at the door.

“Fuck,” I murmured as my heart started jackhammering. A small part of my mind begged me not to answer the door.

I ignored it, walked over, undid the latch, and opened the door. Holy hell. Walking talking sex stood outside my door. I gaped as I took him in. He’d dressed up for the occasion. He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up his forearms. The top two buttons of the shirt were undone, and I could see his rippling chest muscles peeking through. His jeans hugged his legs perfectly. His short beard looked freshly trimmed, and I caught the whiff of the most amazing cologne I’d ever smelled in my life. It was like he’d walked right out of my dreams.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Shit, how long had I been staring at him slack-jawed like that? I shook my head and plastered a smile on my face. “Sorry, yeah. Um, come on in.”

He held up two bottles as he stepped inside. “I wasn’t sure if you liked wine. I brought white and red.”

“Oh, I do. Like wine, I mean. What else would I mean?” I clenched my jaws before I could ramble any further.

“Okay, let’s put the white in the fridge…”

“Sure.” That was good. Short, sweet sentences. Preferably one syllable. No way to embarrass myself that way.

I put the white wine in my fridge and set the bottle of red on the counter. Miles glanced over at the food and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “Wow. This smells amazing.”

“Thanks. I still need to make the dressing for the salad, but the rest is ready. If you want, you can make yourself at home at the table,” I said, then like an idiot blurted, “I hope you like meat.”

He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned. “Oh, I definitely do. You could say I’m a carnivore at heart.”

I swallowed hard, and stifled a sigh when I saw that grin. Something about it spoke volumes. The problem was that it was written in a language I was unfamiliar with. He looked hungry, but not for food. Or was I misreading it? A flush crept across my chest, and I hurriedly started making the vinaigrette. As I worked, I repeated to myself that I needed to try and not make a fool out of myself.

EIGHT

MILES

I wandered into the living room, giving her the space she seemed to need. It was a little surprising how sparse the decor was. In the corner was whatever little craft project she had going on, but other than that, the apartment didn’t feel like her. I’d imagined a lot more color. Some bright throw pillows on the couch, maybe an Andy Warhol–type print on the wall. Celina seemed like a colorful person, and I’d expected her place to be the same. Though, I had to remind myself that she’d only planned on being in town for a month. It was a little crazy to fully decorate something temporary.

My wolf whined at the reminder that she was only here for a short time. Unlike Steff and Tate, I was working with a much smaller window of time. It was worrying, especially with how timid and shy Celina seemed. It could take days to get her to let her guard down and open up enough to really get to know her, and for her to get to know me. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but I had to plan for it regardless.

I sat on the couch and glanced through a stack of books on the coffee table. Celina was a writer, and it wasn’t surprising to find books in her house, but the range of titles was a littlestrange. The pile was fairly large and had everything from fantasy to horror and romance.

One title in particular made me do a double take.Shifter Love. My eyes bulged, and I glanced toward the kitchen. Celina was mincing garlic for the dressing. I scooped the book up out of the pile and looked at the cover. It was definitely a romance novel. The guy on the front looked like he was in the middle of shifting to a panther.

The majority of the human population didn’t know the shifter race existed. But after thousands of years, there were rumors all over. Shifters were like an urban legend to humanity. I’d seen a few movies which tried to portray us, and those were usually shit. We were either immortal godlike beings, or one step from feral Neanderthals. I opened the book, flipped to a random page in the middle and started reading.

Cole pulled me close,brushing his lips across my neck. I wanted him more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life. When he pulled my bra down and exposed my breasts, I released a sigh of longing and desire. His body was lean and muscled like the panther he had hidden within. As he caressed my breasts, I unzipped his pants…

I raisedmy eyebrows and smiled. Blayne would get a kick out of this. I definitely had to tell him about the book later or buy him a copy as a gag gift. This was pretty steamy stuff. I skimmed down the page, and things got really interesting. It was enough for the crotch of my pants to start getting a little tight around me.

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