Etienne (The Shifters of Shotgun Row Book 1)(14)

I chuckled. This woman had a vocabulary all her own, and I’d heard her beat around the cursing bush more than once. “You don’t curse.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. I’m sure you can figure out whose influence that was from.”

“She was a good woman. Always did things for people no one else knew about.”

Tansy perked up at that just about the time Bruno got up from his table, darting his eyes between Tansy and I—making sure I knew.

If she weren’t there, I would’ve growled at him.

“Oh? Like what?”

I turned my attention back to the curious human in front of me. She was probably too curious for her own good in this town.

A slip of a smile pulled at my mouth. “Maybe I don’t trust you enough yet.”

She gasped. “It was my grandmother. I should know if she was helping people so I can continue that part of her. Shame on you.” Her tone was half-serious and half-playful. She had a point, though.

“Fine. I’ll tell you some of it. There’s a little soup kitchen down the road for people who are down on their luck or just needing a hand. She used to bake ten loaves of homemade bread for them every day and bring it down there. And I saw with my own eyes when she helped Jenny with her kids.”

“Jenny?” Her BLT was long forgotten. Something stirred in me as I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe she would fill Marie’s shoes just fine.

“Jenny is a friend. She has seven kids. Widowed. Husband died in some weird circumstances. The town kind of pitches in where we can. She works hard, but feeding seven cubs isn’t easy.”

If she noticed I’d accidentally said cubs, there was no trace of it on her face. Hopefully, she was preoccupied with filling Marie’s many job titles.

“I can do that. I feel awful. Here I was thinking because I closed the shop at the normal time, I was free for the rest of the day. I have work to do!” She nearly jumped out of the booth. There were low-key chuckles from some of the males in the room.

“Settle down. We’ve been taking care of Jenny since Marie passed. Finish your lunch. Fuel up. Then you can tackle the world.”

Surprisingly, she listened. With some gusto, she finished her meal and downed two more Cokes, the sweet tea lasting less than one half sip before she was demanding anything else, all with a smile on her face that could make me happy for the rest of my life.

No, not me. Someone, but not me.

Ours. She’s ours.

Of course, my gator decided that was the moment to rear his head. Fucking bastard. Just when I’d made up my mind she wasn’t for me. Even though I wanted her—bad. She smelled like the finest donut or cake or some kind of confectionary, even over the BLT and the smells of other shifters in the room.

It called to me.

Her smile called to me.

Her voice beckoned my gator out of the depths.

Damn it, I just wanted to lay her out on this table and…

“Etienne?” She was waving her hand in front of my face. I was losing my damned mind over this female.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to say thank you for lunch. And, um, can I maybe persuade you to have dinner with me tonight? Maybe you can tell me some more secrets about Marie that she’s obviously hiding?”

She always talked about her grandmother like she was still alive. It was endearing.

“I think I could make that happen. What time?”

“Seven.”

“I have one condition,” I said, and she stopped trying to get out of the booth, which was all I wanted in that moment.

“What’s that?”

“Wear the red heels.” My eyebrow confirmed my request. The woman looked fine as fuck in those heels.

A red glow blossomed in her cheeks. “Um, I’ll see what I can do. Any requests?”

God, she didn’t know what she was saying. To cook and feed a male shifter was the ultimate symbol of a female of honor. She just didn’t know what it meant to me.

“Anything you make will be fine with me, Tansy. Anything.”

I just hope she didn’t make gator. I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t a cannibal.





Tansy

What on this green earth had I been thinking, inviting him to dinner? I might make a mean meal, but living alone I had nothing ready to go, which meant a trip to the store, cutting into my yelling at Meemaw time, which was number one top priority. She had been hiding from me long enough, or at least I assumed it was hiding since I still felt her prescience. It was going to be a hard day when she left forever.

The bakery was blissfully empty, being already closed for the day. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone but Meemaw. I decided to wait until the dough was ready to rise before calling her.

I yanked all of the ingredients needed for my famous butter rolls, and by famous, I meant like three people had them, but they always asked for me to make them again. Was that my subconsciousness plan? To make him want to see me again? I needed to not examine that one too closely.

“Whatcha doin’ back, Tansy?” And there was Meemaw, thankfully just as visible as the last time I saw her. This fading thing had me on edge, but until I could figure out what to do about it, I figured it best not to upset Meemaw with it. I had no problem upsetting her, but not over afterlife yuck because some things were just too serious.