Page 44 of Bigfoot Boss
“Okay, sure, right, of course,” I repeat, but I don’t think he believes me.
“I’m sorry, Bailey. They will love you.”
“They are going to love that their rich son is fucking his assistant?” I mutter.
“They will love you.” He wraps his thumb and forefinger around my chin, pulling back far enough to look me in the eye. “They can be really intense. If you want to stay in here for a while, collect your thoughts. Whatever you need. I am on your timeline.”
Dammit. It’s hard to be mad at him when he talks like that.
“Can I have a few minutes? By myself? Before I go out there?”
“Of course you can. As much as you need. I’ll go out there and explain.” His eyes soften, and he flashes that beautiful, confident grin that seems to pop up just to throw my balance off kilter. Things were going so well, so easily, I don’t know if I’m ready to add his parents to this equation.
25
DISTINCTIVELY RED PALM
Sacha
Wrapping a blanket from the bed around my waist, I step into the main room of the cabin without Bailey. If she needs a chance to collect herself, I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her anything she wants.
I know it’s too soon for this. I wanted more time for her to get used to me—used to my odd cryptid quirks—before she met my less-civilized parents. I have no regrets about sleeping with her, but I needed the next twenty-four hours alone, to find the courage to explain to her that we are meant to be together forever. Instead, I have my mom standing in the kitchen area with an armload of dirty moss, and random mushrooms that she foraged from the forest.
“Sacha!” When she spins around and spots me her face lights up. She tosses her items to the table so she can throw her arms around me in a tight hug. I wince at her outfit choice—a brown tank top that almost blends into her fur and nothing else. She’s completely naked from the waist down. She’s just an inch shorter than me, with paler fur from her more northern heritage.
“Mom.” I lean into her embrace and familiar scent. It reminds me of every childhood memory: the late nights around the fire, fishing, hunting, foraging for food with my parents, and the long hours I spent reading alone, learning everything I could about the human world hoping that one day I could join it.
My mom leans back with a giant smile, her eyes scanning up and down my figure like she expected me to grow another inch when I hit my 30s. “You look good! I didn’t know you would be here! So happy we ran into you! You should have told us you were coming!”
“It was just a last minute trip. I thought you were in the forest for the summer.”
“Your dad wanted to use the smoker.” My mom waves her hand in the direction of her mate standing in the doorway.
“Caught an elk.” My dad, looking pleased, offers this explanation before he even greets me. He’s much taller than my mom, with darker fur. In one hand he carries a large chunk of dead animal, that leaks small amounts of viscera onto the porch floor. He also carries his distinctive, unpleasant odor, somewhere between roadkill and skunk; it’s apparent even from across the cabin. He’s only wearing a pair of ratty shorts, which were probably a color at some point but now look to be mostly mud.
“Your dad has been obsessed with that smoker since you bought it for his birthday,” my mom begins. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“I was planning to leave tomorrow, but if you two want some time alone, I could get out of your hair earlier—” I offer.
Mom cuts me off, “Of course you should stay! We hardly ever get to see you anymore!”
“It will be nice to catch up.” My dad grunts as he steps into the cabin.
“Abe, do not come into the house with that!” She sniffs, then flashes me a wide grin. “And who is staying here with you? A young woman? A human? You finally met your mate!”
“Mom, please. Humans don’t have fated-mates.”
“Nonsense. Your cousin Boris is with that nice little human man.”
“Anthony.” My dad ignores my mother’s request and crosses the cabin to stand near us. “Boris’s mate’s name is Anthony. They just moved to Puget Sound. We should visit them.”
“Maybe we can go after Solstice,” Mom says.
“If you could not mention mates in front of her—she won’t be comfortable with that word—”My mother only scowls as I try to explain, until her eyes focus on something past me and her face lights up with glee.
“Oh, here she is!” Mom cuts me off again, and pushes past me.
Glancing over my shoulder, Bailey has emerged from the bedroom in a fresh outfit. Blue jean shorts and a flirty floral top that is still totally appropriate to meet the parents in, not too much cleavage, and just enough leg to look absolutely delectable.
