Page 87 of Seer
He pulled up in front of a large two-story home with a fieldstone and stucco façade, capped by a red tile roof.
“Are you okay?”
I laughed. “No.” I rubbed my forehead and looked at him ruefully from under my hand. “I can fake it though.”
He smiled back, then sobered. A spike of nervousness came through the connection.
“Um, before we go in. I told Ruben we were connected. Is it okay if I introduce you to the NPC as my boyfriend?”
I blinked. “Is that what you want us to be?” Holy shit.
He nodded. Hope and a little anxiety came through our connection. “I would like us to be, yes.”
“Yeah, um. Okay. That’s fine with me.” I smiled.
A rush of relief and happiness came through from him, mixing with mine.
Before I could register what was he was doing, Greg leaned over and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t help but smile even wider as he sat back up.
“Let’s go.”
We got out of the car, and Greg produced a bottle of wine from the back seat. He put his hand on my back as we walked toward the house. I’d expected the freaky mind-meld to happen, but apparently the two layers of shirts I wore was enough of a barrier.
“We’ll have to work up to holding hands,” I told him.
He put his mouth next to my ear. “And other things.”
“Dammit, Greg!” I elbowed him as he rang the doorbell.
We were both laughing as a big guy—holy shithis second self was a porcupine!—opened the door.
He was about my height, but his shoulders were broader and his hands were enormous. His hair was brown with blond streaks through it, and he was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. His brown eyes regarded me with curiosity.
“Welcome! I’m Ruben.” He held his hand out for me to shake.
“Hi, I’m Cal. Nice to meet you.”
I stepped to the side so Ruben and Greg could hug each other.
“Please come in. I’ve got the grill going, and I thought we’d eat on the deck. Karla and Brantleigh are already out there with Karla’s friend Fantine.”
My head jerked up. Did he sayBrantleigh?
“What’s the matter?” Greg whispered.
I shook my head. “It might be nothing,” I muttered. Except there was no way two Brantleighs lived in the Austin area.
We followed Ruben toward a large room at the end of the foyer. I took comfort from Greg’s hand on my back as we walked through the living room to the double doors leading outside.
Where Butch, my high school bully, was standing with his arm around a young woman who had to be Ruben’s daughter. Not only was she a porcupine shifter, but she had the same blond streaks in her hair. The girl next to her, however, was a squirrel shifter. She was petite, with inky hair falling in thick twists to her waist.
Before I could warn Ruben that things were about to get awkward, he’d opened the door and announced, “Greg and Cal are here! Please come meet them!”
Butch’s eyes widened when he saw me, but he quickly put on an expression of polite indifference.
Greg and I walked out onto the deck. It was almost the width of the house, made out of some kind of stained wood. A slatted frame-thing formed a kind of open ceiling with lights hanging from it, and a dining table with room for ten people took up most of the space to the right of the door.
Ruben pulled Greg, and therefore me, to his side. He gesturedat each of us. “Greg, you’ve met Karla and Fantine before of course.”
