She turns away from the fire and smiles at me, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal. It’s the least I can do for you since you’re giving me shelter. The weather was fine when I left my grandparents’ place. I really wasn’t expecting the storm.”
“You live with your grandparents?” I ask, jumping at the chance to learn more about this girl who suddenly appeared in my life like a breath of fresh air.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m just visiting. I needed a break, and they always welcome me with open arms,” she says, the smile on her face telling me how much she loves her grandparents. I feel a pang of longing for my own parents, butI shake it off. Although they don’t understand my reasons for hiding, they still support my choices, but I do miss them.
“Do you live farther in the city?” I ask, trying to hold my grimace in, but I don’t think I succeed when she starts to laugh.
“Not a fan?” she asks, blowing on her hot coffee before taking a sip.
“It’s too noisy and smelly, and there are too many cars and not enough trees,” I grumble, not getting upset at her amusement.
“Yeah, you aren’t wrong, but no, I live in the neutral zone.”
I freeze in the process of taking a sip of my own coffee. “Really?” I’m kind of surprised. Maybe that’s why she smells of magic, because she comes into contact with shifters regularly.
“Yeah, I grew up there. My mother has a business, and now I do as well.”
“Oh, what do you do?” I’m intrigued. I’ve avoided the neutral zone too. Being around shifters and not being willing to shift is painful, which is why I live in the human zone.
“I own a bakery café,” she replies, taking a bite of one of the cookies.
“Now I feel a little embarrassed for offering you store-bought cookies.” I grimace and look at the sad plate of offerings.
She giggles and shakes her head. “Don’t be. Sometimes it’s nice not eating something I had to bake. These aren’t too bad for store-bought ones. You got the good ones, nice and chunky and full of chocolate,” she assures me.
“And what do you do for fun?” I ask, picking up one of the cookies and looking at it closely, not even realizing there are different kinds. I take a bite and nod—she’s right, they are good.
Her nose wrinkles adorably, and she shrugs. “Not much right now. I’ve been so focused on making my business successful, I stopped doing the things I used to love.”
“Like what?” I press.
Her gaze drifts to a framed photo of me surfing above the fireplace. It’s one of the reasons I bought this place, because I can step out the door and the water and waves are right there. Surfing feels like flying, and I love it.
“I used to love sewing, or anything crafty really. My mom’s a dress designer, and she taught me to sew. I would make my dolls fancy dresses to wear, and when I used to visit my grandparents, I loved swimming. I always wanted to learn to surf, but I had no one to teach me—oh, and I’d love to learn to dive, but I’m scared of sharks.”
I chuckle and lean back in my chair. “Sharks are probably more afraid of you than you are of them. I can teach you to surf if you want.” My mouth snaps shut. I can’t believe what just came out of my mouth. I haven’t spent any real time with another person in a long time. My IT job allows me to work from home, and apart from trips to the grocery store, I’m a real loner by choice.
I almost take the offer back, but the way her eyes light up and she sits up straight has me clamping my lips shut. “You would?”
“Sure, we can start as soon as the storm clears if you want. Hopefully by the day after tomorrow.”
Her face falls, and she slumps back again. “I’ll probably have to go home on Wednesday. I have to get back to my bakery.” She sounds so disappointed.
“Why can’t you come out here once a week on your days off?”
She slumps even further and groans, tears welling in her eyes again. “I don’t think there are going to be many of those to come.”
I frown, not sure what she means, but her sadness from before returns.
“I should probably get going,” she says and goes to stand up, but I feel a wave of panic and put my hand out. I don’t want her to leave just yet.
“Do you want to stay and hang out with me? We could order some food and maybe watch a movie or play a game.” I wave at the game console that’s plugged into my TV. “I’m really enjoying your company,” I mumble shyly, not wanting to look at her and see any pity in her eyes. Maybe I have starved myself of company for too long.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just text my grandparents and tell them I’ll be out for a little longer so they won’t worry if I’m not there when they get home.” She stands up and heads over to where she dropped her tote. She rummages in it and pulls out her phone, and her fingers fly across the screen.
My anxiety turns into excitement, and I jump up to find my tablet from my office space, bringing up the food delivery app. “What do you feel like eating?” I ask as I return to the living area. She’s back on the sofa, curled up in front of the fire again, and I can’t believe how right she looks.
“I don’t care, something hot though,” she replies.
