Page 7 of Rubber Duckie Shifter Next Door

Rachel instantly pulls away from me. Her lips are swollen from our kiss, her breath comes out in pants, and her eyes are wide and slightly spooked. She’s also twirling her ring around and around her ring finger. Her right ring finger, not left, though my gut tells me she’d never have kissed me like that if she were taken.

But she shakes her head. “I can’t.”

I know it, deep down, that she doesn’t just mean right now. She means ever. She’s going to deny the chemistry between us and pull away.

Don’t ask me how I know, but I do, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let her put up a wall between us. Because from the moment our eyes met over that fence, I knew Rachel was mine. I staked a claim on her before I got a taste of how good we could be together, and I’m never letting her go.

Chapter 4

Sig

I grab the duffle bag at Rachel’s feet and head towards the car at a fast clip. “Let’s go.”

She races after me. “Coming.”

You’re not yet, but if I have it my way… I groan and speed up. No way in hell am I going there… or giving her a chance to change her mind about this trip. Not when it’s an opportunity for me to spend more time with her. “Come on. The kids need you.”

“The kids! Fuck!” She races after me. “I mean fudge.”

“Duck,” I suggest my go-to swear.

“D-duck?”

I wish I knew what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Is she trying to convince herself she didn’t see me shift? Does she think she imagined the whole thing?

“Duck is easier to remember than fudge,” I tell her.

“Right. Duck.” She hurries around me and races up to the kids. “Sorry we took so long.”

All three of them glare at her.

It’s obvious that she cares about the kids, even when they’re making her life a living hell. Makes me picture us having kids of our own—another three, to bring our family up to eight. Well, nine, if you count Nana, and I certainly do. She practically adopted me the moment I moved in next door, baking me cookies, asking about my business, encouraging me to share my passion with the world.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I can’t ask Rachel to marry me when we just met. She’s still in complete denial… not just about my duckie status, but about us.

I’ve got all day to get through to her, and I have a plan.

I grab her hand, marveling at how perfect it feels in mine, and pull her toward Ada’s van. “Can you drive?”

I’ve never learned, and with good reason. I could never get behind the wheel knowing that if something were to startle me, I could shift. Sure, I’d just bounce off the car walls, but what about other people on the road? They could get seriously hurt!

Rachel pulls out the car keys and manually unlocks the old Dodge. I wait for it to stall, but the engine’s smooth as butter. And the smell wafting from the kids is equivalent to the dump off Carlton Avenue… which makes me wonder if they’ve been rolling in garbage.

I roll down my windows—literally… because the car is that old. I turn the ducking crank handle as fast as it will go, while the window slides down at a crawl. Rachel copies me. I’d say it’s proof that we’re on the same wavelength, but the kids roll their windows down too, eager to escape the smell. Because. It. Is. That. Bad.

Rachel sets her phone on the car mount, and I program the GPS. She barely has a chance to pull out of the driveway when Noah asks. “Are we there yet?”

I grin, and so does Rachel. Definitely on the same wavelength.

“Fifteen minutes,” I say as my gaze slides down to her legs. They’re long, lean, and tanned.

“Do you like swimming?” I ask.

“Yes!” all three kids shout from the back.

Rachel turns to gape at me. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”