Читать книгу Her Guardian Shifter - Karen Whiddon - Страница 9

Chapter 2

An instant of panic disappeared the moment JJ caught sight of her new tenant striding up her walk, his son clutched securely to his massive chest.

Again with the striding? As if the snow wasn’t even there. Maybe it had something to do with his height.

Then, before she had time to pretend she wasn’t gaping, he reached her. Fumbling, her hands cold even in her lined ski gloves, she opened the door. “Come on inside.”

As she began the laborious process of removing her many layers of warm clothes, she watched him shrug out of his coat and then get busy undressing the baby. In disbelief, she processed not only the fact that Eric wore just a black sweater under his parka, but that his infant son did, too.

Unable to tear her gaze away, even though she knew her stare might be rude, she exhaled.

Eric Mikkelson was a big man. Not just tall, not just broad, but an appealing combination of the two. Throw in some killer muscles, a narrow waist and lean hips, and he was the stuff of which feminine fantasies were made.

She frowned. Since when did she need to even start thinking about another man, never mind fantasizing about one? If her relationship with Shawn had taught her anything, it had shown her she clearly needed to live alone and figure out how she’d let herself become so...

Since leaving Shawn, she’d tried out several different adjectives and discarded them, because no one single word could adequately describe how much of herself she’d let Shawn destroy. Thankfully, she’d finally gotten the courage to flee.

No, she thought, eyeing the gorgeous masculine specimen in front of her, a man was the last thing she needed.

Still, she’d have to be dead not to appreciate this man’s appeal. And of course, there was his baby.

The infant made a curious snuffling sound. She wondered exactly what species of shape-shifter Eric might be. His aura, like hers, revealed him to be a shifter, though not what kind. And while she hadn’t met too many others, she knew there were many different types of animals besides her wolf. In fact, this little town had recently gained notoriety among shifters for revealing another rare species of shifter, the Drakkor, or dragon shifter. They’d welcomed several into life in their town, even though most of the residents of Forestwood were Pack, or wolf, like JJ.

She’d bet Eric Mikkelson wasn’t wolf. Still eyeing him, she figured he might be a big cat, like a lion or panther. Though his movements and size reminded her more of a grizzly. She swallowed hard. The Vedjorn bear shifters were as rare as Drakkor, and for good reason. They were unstable and frequently dangerous. They kept to themselves and, unlike the other species of shifters, rarely if ever intermarried outside of their own kind. Not that anyone else wanted anything to do with them.

“Are you all right?”

Crud. She’d been standing staring at him, most likely with her mouth wide-open or a big, dopey smile on her face. Flustered, she nodded. “Yes, sorry. I’m fine. It’s just that...” she began. Horrified, she realized she’d been about to breach the most sacred etiquette between shifters. Yikes. There was no way she could ask him what kind of animal he changed into.

“Yes?” he asked, his tone patient, a smile playing along the edge of his sensual mouth. Once again she’d gotten lost in thought. Obviously, her social skills had also vanished with her previous life.

“I’m sorry,” she finally repeated, wincing as the second apology crept out. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you today and now that you’re here, you aren’t at all what I expected.” As she wound to the end of her rambling, her entire face flamed.

“But I confirmed that I would pick up the keys today,” he said, his expression puzzled.

“Yes, but...” She waved her fingers at her large picture window. “With the storm, I thought you’d reschedule.”

Tilting his big, shaggy head, he considered her. Then he grinned, his blue eyes sparking with amusement. And just like that, he went from great looking to absolutely drop-dead sexy.

So help her, her knees went weak again and her breath caught in her chest. Damn.

“You’re joking, right?” His good-natured question prompted her to agree.

“Of course I am,” she managed to reply, attempting a wobbly smile. Thank goodness she at least didn’t sound breathless. “What’s a little blizzard to someone from Norway, right?” Even if that someone had been living in California for years, according to his application.

“Exactly.” The warm glance he sent her invited her to share in his amusement. He swung his large head around to check out the central foyer, while expertly rocking his son’s carrier. The stairs to her place were to the left. His front door was underneath the staircase.

“Would you mind showing me the way to my place? It’s been a long day and I’d like to get settled in as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.” She matched his brisk tone. “Follow me.”

When she’d arrived to claim the house she’d inherited, she’d been surprised to see it had been built as two separate living areas. Both the top floor and the bottom were self-contained dwellings, each with their own kitchen and bathrooms. She’d claimed the top floor. Years of living in the city had taught her she’d be safer there. And the bottom floor she’d rented out to him, her very first tenant ever.

Luckily, the top floor had its own separate entrance, so they’d both have plenty of privacy. And she would have some income to tide her over until she figured out exactly what she wanted to do.

“You’ll have the entire bottom floor,” she said, opening his front door and stepping aside. “Here it is. All yours.”

Still bouncing the baby, he pushed past her and stopped, turning in a half circle to take it all in.

“Wow.” His deep laugh reminded her of hot cocoa spiced with Kahlúa. “When you said it came furnished, I was relieved. I confess, I actually pictured Ikea or maybe an eclectic mix of garage sale and discount store. What I didn’t envision was this. It’s very...” Words seemed to fail him.

“Old lady-ish?” she suggested helpfully, unable to keep from smiling. “All of this stuff belonged to my great-aunt Olivia.” She didn’t tell him the reason she’d kept the fussy, outdated furniture was because she not only didn’t have any of her own, but currently didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“I see,” he said, eyeing a particularly delicate looking chair. “To be honest, I’m afraid I’ll break that if I sit in it.”

She had to admit he was probably right. “I’ll switch it out with something else,” she said, trying to sound businesslike. “Here are your keys.”

When she went to hand them off, her fingers brushed his. Damn. A curious swooping pull swept through her, momentarily making her head spin.

“Are you all right?” he asked yet again, watching her closely, as if he expected her to fall over in a dead faint at any second.

“Yes.” Biting back her second almost automatic apology, she forced a smile. Life with Shawn had compelled her to apologize for everything, even stuff that wasn’t her fault. She’d been consciously trying to break the habit ever since she’d gotten free.

“I guess I’d better leave you to it,” she continued brightly. “I’m just upstairs if you need anything.”

He nodded. “I’ve got your number, as well. Thank you for everything.” As she moved back out into their shared foyer, he firmly and quietly closed his door. A second later, she heard the sound of the dead bolt clicking into place. She couldn’t help but wish she’d dream of him once she went to sleep.

* * *

Exhaustion had Eric wishing he could undress and crawl into bed, but little Garth would need a diaper change and some formula first. Shame about the landlord woman. Though she really was stunning with her fiery red hair, large green eyes and curvy body, she seemed a little daft in the head. The way she’d eyed his baby—as if she’d like to eat him up—had worried Eric. Had he escaped one crazy woman only to relocate with another?

Surely not. Most likely, he was overreacting out of fear. Still, just in case, until he knew her better, he’d make sure to keep his distance.

After he got Garth cleaned up, fed and burped, and put down for a nap, he finally rummaged in his backpack for the sandwich he’d bought at the last gas station. It had gotten crushed and didn’t look the least bit appetizing, but was still cold. He wolfed it down in four bites, wishing he’d had the foresight to buy two. Tomorrow, he’d stock up on food, but for now he had enough of the two things that really mattered—formula and diapers. He had a portable crib in the back of his SUV and the rest of his things would be arriving as soon as the transport company got there.

The one thing he worried most about was his other car. The one he didn’t want to take a chance on damaging by driving cross-country. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be taking it out on icy roads recently coated with salt. He’d park it until the winter season had long passed. Late spring, at the earliest.

One of the reasons he’d chosen to rent this place over the others was that it came with a garage. According to the lease, his landlord got one side of the two-car, detached garage and he got the other. He didn’t plan to use it for the SUV he’d driven across the country. No. He planned to store the 1969 Camaro SS he’d lovingly restored inside his slot in the garage. That car would be his advertisement for the business he planned to start.

Even in California, where customized hot rods were a dime a dozen, his car turned heads. He’d been asked several times where he’d had the work done. Plenty of people had wanted to hire him when he’d told them he’d done it himself. They’d been shocked to learn he worked as a college professor and that he’d restored the car as a hobby. He’d come to realize he might be able to do something he loved and actually earn a living at it. He’d started saving every penny he could, in the hope that one day he could actually start his own business. He’d just about had enough to get serious when Yolanda had gotten pregnant.

And then his life had gone to hell in a handbasket.

No sense in dwelling on the past. Tonight was the first night in his new home and tomorrow would be literally the first day of the rest of his new life. A life where he could keep Garth safe. A life where, hopefully, he could settle in, make friends, get his business established, and find peace and joy again.

The snow continued to fall all through the night. Eric knew because, restless, he got up several times to peer out the window to where the streetlight illuminated the now impassable street. The little house was snug—he’d give it that. No leaky windows, and the radiators put out plenty of heat. He felt cozy and oddly at peace, something he hadn’t quite expected when he’d chucked his entire life and took off to start a new one on the opposite side of the country.

Now he suspected he knew what people who went into the Witness Protection Program felt like. Adrift, needing an anchor, but afraid to put down deep roots in case they needed to move on again. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case here. No way would anyone—especially his ex—think to look for him this far from sunny California.

Finally, sometime around six, he got up, blinking at the brightness from the snow outside, and began puttering around his new living space. The old furniture reminded him of his maternal grandmother’s house—fussy fabrics, lots of dark wood and elaborate ornamentation. He suspected there would have been a plethora of knickknacks covering every conceivable service, which Julia Jacobs had most likely cleared out once she’d arrived. The dark wood gleamed, evidently having recently been dusted and polished, and the space he’d rented looked clean.

Garth woke and Eric got busy changing his boy’s diaper and warming formula so the little guy could have breakfast. Early on Eric had felt a sense of pride at the fact that he’d gotten quite adept at these basic parenting tasks, an accomplishment that had once both amazed and amused him. Now, taking care of his three-month-old was routine, second nature.

After Garth had been fed and burped, Eric sat on the couch and let his son play with a set of colorful plastic rattles. He’d brought only a few of the baby’s toys with him; the others would arrive in the moving truck.

Eventually, Garth fell asleep again and Eric gently placed him back in his temporary crib. He stood for a moment watching his son sleep, his heart full. Finally, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

The knock on his door was decisive, yet quiet enough that it didn’t wake the baby. When Eric opened it, he wasn’t surprised to see his petite landlady standing there. If anything, she looked even more intriguing than she had the night before. He’d never been partial to redheads, but he’d never seen one as beautiful as her. Her emerald-green eyes and lush mouth contrasted with her spattering of freckles, giving her a sexy, girl-next-door vibe. Eyeing her, he felt a jolt of lust, which of course he instantly tamped down.

“Yes?” he asked politely, keeping his body between her and the inside of his place.

A shadow darkened her eyes, almost as if his intense need for privacy wounded her. “I just wanted to apologize,” she said softly. “I know I acted a little strange yesterday and I’m sorry.” Her slight laugh sounded a bit forced, though she kept her chin up and her shoulders back. “Anyway, welcome to Forestwood.” She held out her hand. He noticed her fingernails were short and looked uneven, as if she maybe chewed on them.

The two of them shook. She had a nice, firm grip, which he appreciated.

“I made you a map of town, showing you where all the shops are. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Once he’d accepted the folded map, she turned to go.

“Wait.”

Stopping, she turned, one eyebrow lifted.

“Thank you,” he told her. “As soon as the roads are cleared, I need to hit the grocery store. Any idea what time the plows will come through?”

“I watched the news and this storm was pretty bad. They may not. If the plows don’t make it out this way today, they’ll get our road done tomorrow.”

His heart sank. “Tomorrow?” As he spoke, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had breakfast or even coffee. “I have absolutely no food. I don’t suppose you’d care to sell me a few things to tide me over until then.”

“No food?” Tilting her head, she considered him. “Please tell me you have formula for the baby.”

“Of course I do. And diapers. You can’t travel cross-country with an infant without those. Little Garth is taken care of. I’m the one who needs provisions.”

Amusement sparked in her green eyes. “I’m not going to sell you food,” she said, disappointing him. “But you won’t starve, not in my house. Come with me. I can feed you. I’m an excellent cook.”

Even though his stomach still rumbled with hunger, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to feed him. The idea of her cooking for him seemed way too intimate. Yet what alternative did he have? He could starve or he could eat.

Both embarrassed and wary and, damn it, hungry, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I barely know you. You shouldn’t have to...”

“It’s food.” Her smile tugged at him, invited him to smile back. “Not gold or diamonds or even splitting a bottle of red wine. A couple of simple, hearty meals. Let me make you something, starting with breakfast. You can pay me back after you’ve made it to the store. Now what’ll it be? I’ve got eggs and bread, or oatmeal if you prefer.”

His stomach growled at the thought. Still, he felt obligated to at least make an effort to decline. “I don’t want to impose,” he began.

“You’re not.” She turned to go. “Come on. And bring that adorable baby with you.”

Heaven help him, he went. The small sandwich from the night before had long ago faded from memory and he needed to eat something. Anything. Even cold cereal. He figured he’d go with oatmeal, since she probably had instant, and it would be less trouble and less intimate than asking her to fry him up a couple eggs.

Since Garth was still asleep, it was a simple matter of picking up the portable crib and carrying it with him. Good thing the kid was a sound sleeper. Eric tromped all the way up the steep flight of stairs and his son never woke. Garth had always been like that.

His lovely landlord had left her door open for him. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal out of a simple kindness on her part, but he chalked it up to being gun-shy after what had happened with Yolanda. Still, he couldn’t stand outside on the landing forever. At least, not if he wanted to eat.