Page 21 of Arctic Panda's Secret Mate
Tristan was still having a lot of trouble wrapping his brain around the fact. Haisley was absolutely adorable,with a short bob of dark, fluffy hair around a lightly freckled face. She had bright, intelligent eyes in a round face with big, kissable lips.
She licked those lips now, because Tristan hadn’t answered the question about driving her into town and she was probably nervous because he couldn’t stop staring at her. He felt like his mind was in some kind of reboot cycle since he first saw her defiantly eating his leftovers.
He’d thought she was their chalet ghost for a brief, confused moment, and then he finally realized what his panda bear was yammering on about.
His mate.
Hismate.
“I…don’t have to tell the others,” Tristan said, because he now he was thinking about how all of the people from Shifting Sands would be really happy for him and it would be uncomfortable for everyone involved and Breck would probably give him sex advice that he really, really didn’t want.
Relief lit up Haisley’s features and she went from pretty to utterly enchanting. “Really? Oh gosh, that would be amazing. I promise, I’ll stay out of the way, quiet as a mouse, and I’ll stop tidying the dishtowels and changing the water temperature. I can set the wifi password back, of course, and I’m really sorry about that. I’m not usually that petty, I promise. Thank you so much.” She was so cute and fluttery, like she’d just won the lottery or was accepting an unexpected award.
Did we win something?his bear asked eagerly.
Tristan felt like he’d won the world. Haisley was his mate! He’d given up on hoping he’d find someone to complete him, and now she was here, and everything felt absolutelyperfect.
Then he remembered that he could still screw this up.He wasn’t as suave or skilled as the other staff from Shifting Sands.
And Haisley didn’t know about shifters.
“I, uh…” Tristan started intelligently.
He was spared having to explain what he had no idea how to explain by a grumbling crash from the great room. Haisley’s eyes got big and she fled through the door to the dining room. Only a moment later, as Tristan was still deciding whether or not to chase her (pandas weren’t really aboutpursuit, so his bear wasn’t insisting they follow), Wrench came stumbling into the kitchen.
“Lydia wants egg rolls,” the man growled. “You got any clue how to make egg rolls?”
Tristan cast a plaintive look after Haisley, but she had vanished. “I really don’t,” he said apologetically. His vegetarian curry leftovers were out on the counter where Haisley had left them. “There’s some curry left?”
Wrench grunted and went to the fridge. “Might do. We got pickles?”
That Tristan could help him find. “When my mom was pregnant with my kid sister, she loved frozen pickles. It was a hundred degrees that summer, and it was the only thing she wanted. I mean, it’s Alaska, so maybe that won’t work, but it could.”
“How long’s it take to freeze pickles?” Wrench wanted to know.
“A couple of hours?” Tristan guessed. “If you start them now, she could have them tomorrow.”
Wrench’s scowl looked a little less snarly, which Tristan thought was as close to appreciation as he was going to get. They put a dozen pickles on parchment paper on a shelf in the freezer, balanced on tubs of ice cream and neatly labeled packages of meat and pre-made meals.
It was Haisley’s handwriting, and now that Tristanknew it, he thought he understood why all the notes had seemed so dear to him.
She was hismate.
Whatever magic it was that matched up shifters to the one other person in the world who could make them perfectly happy, it had smiled at last onhim. Tristan’s bear felt like it was doing slow, joyful backward cartwheels in his head.
Wrench finally left with Tristan’s leftover curry. Tristan listened to him stomp back through the darkness to close the door to his room with Lydia, and then waited a little longer to see if Lydia would send the man back for other food. When the house was quiet again and Wrench did not reappear, Tristan drew in a breath and went back through the dining room down the hall to the doorway that had been locked for so long.
He tapped on it as quietly as possible, and Haisley must have been waiting at the other side, because the door popped open. “I feel like I’m in a heist movie. Except I’m trying not to be heisted. An anti-heist. A hide-st? Oh, I’m punch drunk.”
Tristan’s panda was delighted by the pun. “You didn’t finish your dinner,” Tristan said apologetically, “and I gave the rest of the leftovers to Wrench.”
“I would have, too,” Haisley agreed. “He’s terrifying! Is his name reallyWrench?”
“He’s not so bad,” Tristan said, even if he sort of agreed with Haisley. He felt like he had to stick up for the staff of Shifting Sands, because they’d been so good to him and tried so hard to make him feel like he belonged. “And yes, his name is Wrench.”
“Do all of you have nicknames? Are you Panda Bear?”
Tristan had been chewing over in his head how he might introduce Haisley to the concept of shifters. “I’m a panda bear,” he said hopefully.
