“You don’t have to cook, Phoebe.You’re injured.I can make us something simple.”
She walks toward the kitchen.“Can you plug the fridge back in to the wall?”
I do, and she opens it and looks to take stock.
“Eggs, bacon.”She opens a cabinet.“Pancake mix.I think they have a waffle maker.”She bends over so her luscious ass is in the air, and my mouth goes dry.I’d love to grab it.Being cuddled up against it last night was heavenly.“They do!”She straightens up.“Can you get it out for me?”
I get it and set it up on the counter near a plug.
“Okay, I’ll go assess how things are outside and start clearing up.Let’s say thirty minutes?”
She nods.“Scrambled eggs with cheese okay?And I’ll fry up some bacon and make waffles.Do you want coffee?”
A huge smile forms on my lips.This could be my life.I know it’s only one day, but I’d give anything to make this forever.
I shift when I go into the guest room.It’s obviously easier to use tools that are sized for human hands in human form.I dress in jeans and a hoodie with work boots, then walk through the cottage to grab the snow shovel and tools from the closet on the back screened-in porch.Phoebe is in the kitchen, whisking the waffle batter using her left hand.
Slowing my steps, I ask, “Are you okay doing that left-handed?I can do it if you want.”
Phoebe looks up and gasps.“Oh!You shifted back!You’re still cute.”Her cheeks pinken like the words slipped out.“I mean, I said you were cute in Bigfoot form, so I wanted to reassure you that you were cute like this too.”
“Thanks.You’re cute too.”
The pink on her cheeks deepens.“I don’t shift.”
I shrug and shoot her a wink.“Guess that means I think you’re always cute.”
Holy shit.I just flirted.Or tried to.I’ve never done that before.She’s looking at me with wide eyes.But she doesn’t look disgusted.She’s not laughing at me.I guess that’s good?Or maybe I’m so bad at it she doesn’t even realize I’m attempting it?
I hurriedly turn and grab what I need from the back closet, then rush back through the cottage and out the front door.I don’t even sneak a glance at Phoebe out of fear of what I’ll see.I set the timer on my watch and start shoveling the porch and steps.There’s a layer of slush under the snow, but it’s shoveling with the snow, so we should be okay to walk on it.I shovel a path to Phoebe’s car—I’ll brush it off later.It’s doubtful we’re going anywhere today.I know I’m not in any rush to leave our little private piece of paradise.Never thought I’d think of this cottage on the edge of the marsh in that light, but right now, there’s no place else I’d rather be.
The trees across the road aren’t the big issue I thought they’d be.I’m able to lift and drag them out of the way, back into the yard of the house they belong to.Let the homeowner worry about cutting them up.Not our problem.I’m done with my tasks within the half hour I set, so I’m kicking snow off my boots as my watch chimes.Opening the door, I give in to the impulse I’ve had for the longest time.
“Hi, honey, I’m home!”
Phoebe’s giggle from the kitchen makes me smile as I sit on the bench to take off my boots.
“I feel like I should be wearing an apron and pearls, maybe have your martini ready,” Phoebe calls.
“I don’t like martinis.I’m fine with a beer.”I pad into the kitchen in my stocking feet.
She stops putting bacon on the paper-towel-lined plate and stares at me.I look down at myself and check my fly.I didn’t feel any breezes when I was outside.
“What?”
A slow grin spreads across her face.“You’re wearing your glasses.”
“Yeah, I put them on before I went outside.If I’m not skating, then I don’t like to wear my contacts.Gonna wash my hands, and I’ll be right back.”
I pull my hoodie over my head, and my shirt rides up, exposing my abs.I hear Phoebe’s breath catch.Maybe she likes what she sees?I’m not stupid—I know women like my muscles, and I’m not ugly.Women are attracted to me.Being a professional athlete making decent money helps.The fact that I’m a shifter adds an aura of danger.There are women who have a fuck-it bucket list where shifters are concerned.
As a heterosexual twenty-four-year-old man, I’m attracted to all sorts of women.But for me, attraction isn’t enough.Attraction is physical and chemical.I need to feel an emotional connection to want to be physically intimate with a woman.I’ve only felt that with Phoebe.In a lot of ways, life would be easier if I wasn’t how I am.But I am.And Phoebe is my person.If I need to flex my abs and hope she finally notices me as a man and not her buddy, so be it.
“The snow is beautiful now that we have heat and power, huh?”I ask with a smirk as I finish taking off my hoodie.
“Snow?”she asks distractedly as she turns to look out the window.“Yeah, beautiful.”
She sure is.
