Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(43)
Once outside, Gawain walked to the back of the faded-red massive barn and grinned when he saw the covered carport with an extremely high roof. “I bet someone built this for an RV. It’s perfect for my outdoor forge.”
Owen ran his hand over the barn wall. The wood was in fine shape. “The barn’s a lot newer.” They went in the smaller door to the side and looked around. Still holding the faint odor of hay, the huge open space had a tack room and bathroom in the back. No litter—the renters must not have bothered to use it.
“I can work with this. I say let’s take the place,” Gawain said.
Owen smiled as pleasure rose inside. He’d be living with his littermate again, and they were making themselves a lair. Although mountain lions didn’t tend to create permanent dens, the human side of a shifter had a profound influence when it came to homes. As a result, werecats were almost as den-happy as werebears. “Agreed.”
Gawain turned in a circle and frowned. “We’ll need to put in windows, though.”
“Easy enough.” Owen glanced around. Plenty of space. One corner was all he’d need for his carving stuff.
“How about I take the left side of the barn?” Gawain asked. “There’s a door to the covered area, and I can set my outside forge up under there. Then I can set up a ritual area in the grassy space on the left.”
“Sure.” Owen grinned at the light of anticipation in his brother’s eyes. The blademage had obviously been missing his tools. “I’ll take the back right corner. I mostly need a quiet area and storage.”
“Sounds good. I figure I can set up enough to handle blademage requests within a few days, although it might take a while for people to realize I’m here.”
“It’s a small town and an underpopulated territory. You’ll be surprised how quickly the news gets around.” Owen glanced at the driveway. “Having our businesses just off the main highway will help.”
“This is true.” Gawain’s smile widened. “Actually, we should put a sign out there on the road. Something eye-catching. What are the chances I can talk you into carving a sign for both of our businesses?”
Now there was a fine compliment. “You design it. I can carve it.”
“Perfect.” Gawain sighed. “How about we check out the other rooms in the downstairs. Something tells me the plumbing will need work, too.”
“And you said I was the pessimist.”
After thoroughly inspecting the entire house again, Gawain went into the kitchen to finish the to-do list.
Owen wandered through the big downstairs, envisioning how the rooms would appear once clean and furnished. He stopped to brush dust away from the beautifully carved trim beside the kitchen door and murmured, “We’ll get you fixed up, house. Don’t worry.”
Despite the neglect and mess, the place had a good feeling to it, as if years of contentment and happiness had seeped into the wood.
He looked forward to living here. Working here. Although…a touch of guilt edged in. Would he and Gawain be letting the house down by not filling the empty rooms with cublings?
Chapter Eleven
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Darcy had spent Thursday afternoon helping Owen and Gawain clean up their house. A hoard of teenaged shifters had shown up to assist. It had been fun watching the two males work with pups. Gawain, big and confident, was so friendly the cubs were quickly at ease and telling him all their stories. And Owen… Was it her imagination or was he more relaxed? Laughing easier? Thrilled to be hired by the deadly cahir, the youngsters worked vigorously to get his rare word of praise and flashing smile.
Admit it, tinker, the cubs aren’t the only ones striving to earn his smile.
The day had been a success. The walls were stripped and all the garbage was gone.
And she’d been in the shower forever, trying to remove the stink and grime.
Finally, when all she could smell was soap and shampoo, she got dressed in jeans and a pretty teal shirt. The innkeeper and Angie at the diner had rounded up a wonderful assortment of outfits for Darcy. Fun, bright clothes. What a pleasure it was to be free to choose what she wore each day.
After brushing out her damp hair, she trotted downstairs, hoping for some company. Gawain and Owen were planning to work on their house all evening, but maybe Bree would be up for some conversation or Zeb would want to discuss mysteries.
She’d miss her mentors, though—and her lessons on how to play pool.
Really, they all were enjoying being together in the evenings. Maybe because all three of them had spent their nights alone in the past. In the prìosan, she’d been locked in her cell every evening after supper. Although sociable, Gawain had lived alone in Pine Knoll. Owen had his isolated high mountain land.
Since the lodge had a big screen TV and DVDs, they’d been sampling human entertainment. Some of the movies were hilarious. But why were there so many stories about werewolves and none about werecats or werebears? How insulting was that?
She stopped at the foot of the stairs and considered. Watching a movie alone had no appeal, and the long leather couch would feel awfully empty. Originally, she’d sat on the couch, the males in chairs. One night a gory movie had her shaking harder than an aspen leaf, and suddenly, she had a male on each side of her.
Even after that night, the guys had never returned to their chairs. And she’d soon grown used to being sandwiched between their warm bodies. She could feel them breathe. Gawain would hold her hand if she was worried. If she started to tremble, Owen would put a big arm around her shoulders and pull her close.