Page 5 of Arctic Panda's Secret Mate
Tristan didn’t have much to unpack. His warmest clothing was not that bulky, and he was glad that the chalet came with rental gear; it catered to tourists from hot climates who might not have suitable outerwear for an Alaskan winter.
He met Gizelle capering down the stairs with Conall coming sedately behind and stood politely aside to let the man catch up with his mate. Should he thank him—again—for the opportunity to come on this vacation? Tristan was grateful that the deaf man didn’t give him a glance long enough for him to speak, because he thought it might be too ingratiating.
“There’s snow!” Gizelle sang happily. Tristan knew enough of her story to understand that she had grown up trapped in her gazelle shape in a madman’s zoo, which explained why she sometimes seemed very young and impulsive… and sometimes seemed absolutely ancient.
Conall caught her before she could fling the front dooropen and run out just as she was. “We’ll need warmer clothing,” he cautioned her.
“Thisiswarm clothing,” Gizelle insisted, plucking at her sweater. “I’ve never worn so much!”
“You need a hat,” Conall said gruffly. “It’s gotten even colder since we arrived. They have a checkout closet, let’s see what fits.”
“Oh, are you heading outside while it’s light?” Lydia was ensconced on the couch in a ring of pillows and Wrench adjusted a footstool for her. “I can’t believe it’s already nearly sunset!”
“I want to see the snow!” Gizelle said.
“Then you will see snow,” Conall said, in tones of great patience as he settled a hat on her head.
“I’m going to stay here in front of the fire,” Lydia announced.
“Me, too, darling!” The stairs groaned beneath Magnolia, who came down with a flourish, like she was making a royal entrance. “I think some mulled cider is called for after that ride.” She settled in a recliner and made it look like a throne.
Chef came out of the kitchen cradling a huge red pot. “They have Le Creucet!” he said rapturously. “And an induction stovetop! Mulled cider for everyone!”
“Can I help with anything?” Tristan offered. He was as curious to go outside as Gizelle, who was bouncing in place as Conall measured snow pants against her, but duty compelled him to offer.
“No, no, go and enjoy the snow before the sun sets. This kitchen is so efficiently organized that one person can do everything.”
Tristan might have suspected someone else of being reluctant to have a mere handyman in his tightly-runkitchen, but Chef was too genuine to disbelieve. Chef went back into the kitchen singing at the top of his lungs.
Tristan came out of the closet with an armful of warm clothing in his size to find that Breck and Darla had come down to join the party and that they were stripping.
“Are you takingoffyour clothing to go outside?” Lydia asked in disbelief.
“Why wear coats when you can wear fur?”
Darla put her clothing neatly over the back of a couch, smoothing out the wrinkles. Breck spun each article over his head and launched it into a different corner. His audience giggled and averted their eyes. Darla looked as if she appreciated the show even if she didn’t want to admit it.
They both shimmered into feline form, Breck a sleek gold and black leopard with one rune-marked wrist and Darla a beautiful black and white snow leopard with markings above one paw that matched Breck’s. She sat daintily with her long tail wrapped around over her paws, while Breck made a show of stretching.
Tristan wished he had the guts to do the same, but he’d grown up keeping his shifting strictly secret and even a year at a tropical island working at a resort for shifters only hadn’t quite overcome his instinct to hide his inner nature.
It would be fun,his bear said wistfully.I might like snow.He snorted.I wouldn’t snow until I try it.
We’re here for ten days, Tristan reminded him.We’ll have time to go out alone later.
His bear gave a discontented rumble.Alone isn’t as much fun,he said sadly.
6
HAISLEY
Haisley heard the unwelcome group crashing around in the great room, and the door to the lodge opened and shut several times as the majority of them trooped out into the snow. But someone was still definitely poking around in the kitchen, singing opera and opening and shutting cabinets.
He’d better not be rearranging things or using metal in her non-stick pots. She’d left a note about that, of course, but people got careless.
When she cracked her door to listen, she could also hear voices in the great room, and the crackle of a fire.
She shut the door again and locked it. The outdoor party had gone out the front and her bedroom was around the side of the lodge, so she could just see a portion of the front yard and the workshed if she sat at one end of the window; it was still bright enough that they couldn’t see her through the glass. It was hard to make out features, they were so bundled up, but they were clearly enjoying themselves. They staggered around, making angels and snowballs.
