Etienne (The Shifters of Shotgun Row Book 1)(36)

Tansy

The last place I wanted to be was T-John’s, but Etienne insisted and kept mumbling about how I needed to let him feed me, so I complied.

T-John’s was fine enough a place for most people, but I could see those left behind, and it wasn’t pretty and far outside my ability to cope. According to my quick library search after my first trip there, I discovered it was built on the site of fire almost a hundred years earlier. The fire was long forgotten by the town but very much still the present for the plethora of ghosts.

Unlike Bruno’s ghost and Meemaw, even Star’s sister for that matter, they didn’t even see me. They were still stuck in that day, screaming, running around trying to get out, or banging on nonexistent doors. The first few times I went, it nearly broke me, and I ended up ordering most of my food bulk through the bakery, going there only when I couldn’t finagle my way out of it.

Now here I was, in the parking lot of awful, unable to move. There was no way Etienne was going to let me stay in the car; I’d already tried to talk him out of it with no success. I waited in my seat as he walked around to let me out, all gentleman-like.

“Damn, woman, I was hoping being with me would make you feel safe, and here you are throwing fear out like it’s that paper confetti shit.”

I took his offered hand, climbing out of the car and straight into his arms. “S’not you.” I squeezed him tighter. “I do feel safe with you. Did you sense fear at the bakery?”

“Not for long.” He tipped my chin. “You need to tell me what has you like this. My gator, he wants to bleed all things right now to make it better.”

“T-John’s. It was built over an old boarding house. One that burned.”

“Get in the car.” He guided me in, already punching the numbers on his phone. “Hey, Callum, I need you to go to T-John’s. I need steak, eggs, veggies, cereal, and I don’t know—shit girls like. Fuck you very much.”

I thought about stopping him a couple of times, but even I could see his gator was close.

“There, shopping done.” He started the engine, the tension in the car thick. He was livid.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I can handle it. I promise.”

His keys were out and on the dash, his body facing mine before I finished my vow.

“You think I’m mad about T-John’s?”

I nodded.

“Crazy, silly, gorgeous Tansy, my gator is pissed at me for not seeing the signs of your discomfort soon enough.” He cupped my cheek as he spoke, his warmth removing the last bit of fear I had. I wasn’t going in that place. Etienne saw to it. He protected me, even if to the rest of the world being scared to buy groceries was ridiculous. Good gator.

“So, you’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“I’m a little miffed, yeah, ’cause telling me would’ve saved us time, but my gator—he’s pissed at me, not you.”

I wasn’t going to pretend to understand what he was feeling, my body didn’t house a beast, but I took him at his word, and as we drove off I held onto his thigh, needing to feel him and less than pleased at myself for picking out a stick, one that made holding his hand and feeling his skin less than ideal.

By the time we got to his place, I was good and calm. Better than. Something about Shotgun Row had me feeling like I belonged in a way I never had before, not even at Meemaw’s. This crew of foul-mouthed men was where I belonged. They were like brothers. Not Etienne, of course. Nothing I felt about him could be described as brotherly.

“We’re home,” I announced as we pulled in front of his house.

“Say it again.” Etienne unbuckled his belt, turning to me so I could get his undivided attention.

“We’re home?”

“Perfect damn woman. That’s what you are.” Yanking my face to his as he kissed me hard, all teeth and tongues and lips, I let myself get lost in him, his scent enveloping me, his body singing to mine. I began to climb over the darn stick, ready to climb him like a tree as a knock on the window had me jumping back.

“Food’s here, asshole,” Callum called through the glass.

“My name’s Tansy,” I called back, being a sass monster, and was rewarded with a bellowing laugh from my Etienne, for he was that—mine.

“I like her,” he called behind him as he marched to Etienne’s door, holding mass amounts of groceries in his arms. He was dropping them as we got out of the car. “You owe me ninety bucks.”

“Put it on my tab.” Etienne grabbed my hand as we made our way to the house.

“Har. Har.” Callum shoulder-checked Etienne as we got to the groceries. “Just for that I’m coming for dinner.”

Of course he was. Probably for the best since all I could think about was getting Etienne out of his jeans. I blamed the mating stuff because that was so not like me.

“You cookin’?” Etienne threw him a bag of what looked like mostly jerky from my original perusal. I had a feeling his ideas of what I would eat were drastically different than reality.

“You’re the one who mated a chef.”

“Baker,” Etienne corrected.

Fine, I was a chef, but I was not by auto-default the one to always cook. Best set that precedent from the get-go.

“Same dif, pansy.”