By one o'clock, I was getting antsy about not hearing from Jack and having visions of him being kidnapped by a horde of horny strippers.
By two o'clock, when Eleanor went home, I still hadn't heard from him and he hadn't answered my texts.
By four o'clock, I was ready to drive to Orlando and track him down.
At six o'clock, just when I was getting ready to close up for the day, Jack shoved the door open and stalked into the shop.
Dripping wet.
I glanced out at the sky behind him for any evidence of a freak thunderstorm. Nope, not a cloud in the sky.
"Well? And quit dripping on my floor. I just mopped it."
He gave me alook,but he backed out to the porch and then shifted into his tiger shape, shook out his fur, and prowled over to the patch of sunlight on the corner of the porch and lay down, aiming a golden-eyed stare at me.
Great. Now I'd learned the answer to that age-old question: Do tigers pout?
I mopped up the water, turned off the lights, made sure the cameras were set, and locked up. Jack was still a tiger, but now he was resting his giant head on his paws, eyes closed, either asleep or ignoring me.
His motorcycle was parked next to my car. The leather seat shone wetly. Maybe he got caught in a rainstorm in Orlando?
"Well, it has been a long day and I will not sit around until you feel like talking to me, so see you later." I caught the shimmer of magic out of the corner of my eye, and when I turned to look at him, he was back to human, dry now and fully clothed, as always, which was apparently a special talent for a shifter.
I'd asked him once where all the clothes came from that magically appeared when he shifted, but he had no idea. He also had no idea where the ones he was wearing when he turned tiger went. Although you might expect the same clothes came back, they never did.
It was one of life's big puzzles.
"I was hoping for a little sympathy after a day spent tracking down Bubbles the stripper and an afternoon of attempted drowning," he said, following me across the parking lot.
"What?"
"I'm starving. Can we discuss it at your house?"
He climbed on his bike. So evidently I didn't really get a say in the matter, and I followed him across town to my place. The minute we got in the door, I pointed at him.
"Talk."
He rolled his neck and stretched his arms and shoulders, which did great things for his muscles. I tried not to notice. In fact, I didn't notice so hard that I left the room, changed clothes, fed my cat, gave her fresh water, and started pulling food out of the fridge.
Jack, who'd been taking a shower in the guest room, walked out with damp hair, took the package of sliced turkey out of my hands, and pulled me into a hug.
"I just really, really needed that," he murmured into my hair. "It has been a long damn day."
I relaxed into the warm circle of his hug, secretly realizing that I'd needed it too. We stood that way for a few minutes, and then he kissed the top of my head and let me go.
"So, do you want to hear about the mad ukulele player who really wanted a didgeridoo but would settle for an accordion, or are you ready to tell me what in the heck happened to you today?"
"I know a guy who won a didgeridoo competition in New Zealand before he gave up music to become a bowling instructor," he said casually, pulling mustard, lettuce, cheese out of the fridge.
"I don't know what to do with that, so I'm not even going to ask. Tell me about the drowning, Jack. Don't force me to use this against you."
We both looked at the deadly loaf of bread I held in my hand, and then I sighed and put it down. "Okay, I'm horrible at threats. Justtell me.Please."
"Can we eat first? I'm starving."
"No! At least give me the headlines now and then we can talk while eating."
"Long story short: I found the Bubbles McHotpants Memorial Stripper Pole, and then Phaedra tried to drown me in the lake."
