Human Interaction (14 page)

"I caught the scent of shifters at your house." He paused at a light before driving onward.

He knew I hated those long pauses and still did it on purpose. As hard as I tried to bite my lip, I finally gave in after a few seconds. "I have brothers who are shapeshifters," I answered because I couldn't resist the temptation not to, but I didn't have to give details.

"But you're human." He glanced in my direction, reaching out that hand to rest on my leg again.

I focused on his hand, those long, strong fingers that wrapped around my jean-clad knee. "They're adopted."

It felt like years ago, but hadn't actually been that long since we decided to adopt one another. Bas, the older of the two carried his large frame easily, topping out at six foot three inches with jet black hair and deep matching eyes that somehow could always peer into your soul. Genetically, he traced ancestors back to the rain forests of Central America with his black panther DNA. Andrew came in a bit more compact body, lighter toned with naturally tawny-colored hair and brown eyes that hinted at his inner mountain lion. Not quite as bulky as Bas, Andrew traded brute strength for speed and agility.

Both worked for the Division, although in the special ops area. This meant they came and went more than they stayed in place, 'gathering information', according to them. After a few assignments together, they'd become decent friends and spent free time together doing whatever men of their age did.

I took some credit in helping Dad meet his long-time partner, Andrew. When Bas had moved in to my house, Andrew began to hang around as well. In fact, he had spent more time at my home than his own apartment and didn't take long to declare he'd adopted me as a baby sister, the same as Bas had years before. Dad visited one day and they'd met, hit it off, and became quite the lovebirds. Last I heard, they worked hard negotiating to adopt a baby and become their own little family. Both truly loved and cared for one another and I couldn't be happier for them.

Meat nodded. "Aren't around much?"

Warning bells went off in my head.
Oh, no.
Single mothers didn't just announce to one date specimens that the men of the house were home rarely, an invitation for trouble to visit if I ever heard one. Meat didn't lean toward the serial killer type, but he would certainly take advantage of the cramped pantry for some touchy-feely moments. Heck, he would commence hand roving in a heartbeat.

"They come and go."
There, nice neutral answer. Now, all I need is some duct tape for those hands when I get anywhere near the pantry.
Meat only grunted in response.

"My best friend lives with me, too. Her name is Jessica," I hastily added. "She has an… ummmmm. Scary store."

Jessica still worked for the Division as a contract consultant, but these days focused her time and energies on getting "Night's Delights" up and running. A dream from childhood in the process of becoming true. Well, maybe not childhood, considering what merchandise she carried. Most people would never believe she owned a scary store, having an innocence and pure quality about her.

We'd met while working for the Division. In fact, she had drawn the short straw, getting stuck teaching me the ropes. An angel on earth she'd turned out to be. Despite her busy schedule and hard work, she had come to live with me when I'd needed someone the most. Tummy aches, fussiness, and dirty diapers that dripped, she'd stood in the trenches by my side and worked magic to keep my sanity in place during the worst days of my life.

What I still didn't understand was how such a beautiful redhead with a bright smile, quick wit, and sparkling green eyes that hinted at her Irish background didn't have men lined up to carry her off to their castle. She shrugged it off when I asked about Prince Charming coming along to claim his Princess, but I knew she longed for the right man and a family of her own.

"Scary store?"

Blinking, I pondered how to answer. "You know… sex stuff."

"Why did you call it a scary store, then?" Curious amusement laced his voice.

"'Cause after thirteen steps from the front door the items get scary." I shrugged and avoided his eyes. "Jessica aims to provide for all niches in life."

He arched an eyebrow my direction. "That explains the unusual cookie cutters in your kitchen sink."

My face heated. "Those are… mine," I squeaked and found the view out my side window fascinating.

The jerk just laughed and patted my knee.

I turned to glare at him. His eyelids lowered, but his smile remained plastered on his face. "See, I knew you were a perverted, kinky lady."

I can see the conversation now. "I'm sorry officer. You see, the mongrel here called me kinky. Do I look like a pervert to you? Just because I make penis cookies and give those away, does that make me odd? Well, don't answer that, it was a rhetorical question. But back to the former monk sex fiend… Unfortunate but necessary, you see."

Maybe if I count to ten, we will arrive at my house, thus saving Meat from a beaning. Besides, knowing my luck, the brute will actually like being smacked. And the last thing I need is for his souped-up Ferrari sex motor to kick into higher RPMs.

* * * *

We entered the front door to a chorus of "Pancakes!" from the kitchen.

With a smile, I grabbed Meat's hand and led him toward the noise. "Looks like we're just in time for breakfast."

"Yes you are, Baby Girl," Dad called through the kitchen door.

I shook my head. No matter his age, his hearing remained that of a wolf while his superb mind rivaled the memory of an elephant.

No sooner had we stepped into the kitchen than the boys yelled, "Meat!" and joyfully raced to wrap their arms around each leg, hanging on tight.

Meat staggered a mite, but easily caught his balance. A bright smile covered his face as he spoke to the boys, greeting them with sincere happiness.

I watched as not only did the overgrown kitty seem to have taken to the boys, but they literally and figuratively appeared to latch onto him as well. Tearing my gaze away, I glanced over at Dad, eager to read the reaction on his face.

Whisk in hand and apron tied around his front, Dad stared at Meat with quiet interest before turning back to the task of dribbling mix onto the hot skillet. "Introduce your friend, please, Shy. And, boys, release that man and sit down at the table. Breakfast will be ready very soon."

Sasha and Chance squeezed Meat's leg once more, chattering the entire time before heading to their usual chairs at the table.

"Dad. This is Meat… errrr. Tyger. Tyger, this is my father, Victor." I made the formal introductions, standing back and waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Meat stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about you." If he was shocked by the apron wearing retired Enforcer, the shifter never let on.

Dad returned the hand shake and took a moment to consider my date. "Shy's been telling tales again?"

Meat shook his head. "No."

Dad gave a small head nod in acknowledgement. "I see." He turned back to handily flip pancakes off the stove and onto a platter already holding a small mountain of the sweet treats.

He unloaded the first batch on the boys' plates where both Meat and I helped them add toppings and dig in.

"Did you give your paper presentation in class, Shyanne?" Dad asked between bites of food.

Looking over my glass of milk, I found all eyes focused on me. "Ummm. Yes. I did that a couple days ago."

"The paper you were working on when we met?" Meat asked. I nodded in return.

"And, how did it go?" Dad persisted.

I speared a hunk of pancake with my fork and busily shoved it around the plate, coating it with butter and syrup. "Well, okay, I think. The professor seemed a bit stunned with my choice of places. He choked and one of the students raced to give him the Heimlich, but he ended up not needing it. I explained all about the wanton women with cleavage hanging out and the male dancers with full thongs. The professor turned red, the other students squirmed in their seats while snickering and making hushed comments, and I ended up with three phone numbers from men. The scary part is that one of those numbers belongs to the professor."

Dad shook his head, mumbling to himself. Meat frowned and leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Phone numbers? I hope you threw them away?"

I grinned back up at him, remaining mute.

The meal continued with light-hearted conversation, all carefully toned to the appropriate level for a four-year-old. Dad sneaked glimpses to Meat often as if considering what to say to the man once little ears left the room.

Soon enough, the boys finished. I asked them to go clean up, and change from their pajamas into day clothing. Meat promised he wouldn't leave until they returned, which sealed the deal in their eyes. Little feet bounded upstairs moments later.

"You kept my daughter out all night long on a first date." Dad tossed out the first pitch.

I quickly sat my glass of milk down and leaned back in my seat. "Dad, I…"

He shushed me with a stern look. "Let the man speak for himself."

"Severe storms hit last night. I didn't want to risk trying to get her home and have an accident. Also, no way in hell was I letting her try to teleport home in such a mess." Meat stared back at my father, maintaining eye contact, a steady voice, refusing to be cowed in any way.

"We didn't do anything. Good grief," I hastily added, my face warming up quickly with the conversation at hand.

"I know that." Dad flicked me a casual glance before turning his attention back to the shifter in the room. "What are your plans with my daughter?"

If only a rabbit hole could open up, I would have loved to be Alice in Wonderland at that very moment. Bring on the Queen of Hearts. She couldn't be near as bad as what I faced right now. It was one thing to be grilled by your father about what happened on a date, but a totally different kind of humiliation to have him grill your new boyfriend right in front of you.

Meat's fingers intertwined with mine under the table, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I believe, like any other couple, we're seeing if we're right for one another."

Dad savored that for a moment. "Fair enough."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hurt my daughter and I shall rip your lungs out piece by piece through your ears." Dad's tone dropped to a stern threat.

Meat nodded. "I'll do my best not to break her heart."

"Oh, that wasn't what I meant. Love comes and goes. Broken hearts are part of the process. I hope, for her sake, that doesn't happen in your case, but that's between you." He paused to take a breath, standing with an empty plate in hand. "I mean if you ever physically hurt my daughter, your hours on earth will be full of exquisite torture before you beg for your death."

To my horror, Meat grinned widely, allowing a chuckle to escape. I looked at him in shock.
My father just threatened to tear you to pieces and you laugh
? That didn't bode well for his plea of sanity.

"Well said. I would do the same were it a child of mine," Meat answered, sharing a smug look with my father.

Grabbing more dirty dishes, I carried them to the sink, all the time shaking my head at the men. A minute ago they were in the posturing and threatening mode. Now, they chatted and laughed like old buddies.
Go figure.

"By the way, work called. They need you to swing by for a couple of hours. Something about a missing file." Dad relayed the message while placing the now cooled skillet and spatula in the sink.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. I'll take the boys with me."

My official title remained 'executive assistant', although, in real terms, the badge should have read 'gopher.' Not that I complained. You couldn't beat the pay, benefits outshone any other company in the three state area, and the daily flexibility allowed me to be home with my kids, take college classes, and get some hours in at work all without pushing my sanity to the brink. Their Fallen Warriors Trust helped pay for not only my education, but for tuition for my children once they reached college age. The Survivor's Fund provided financial support for the family of the lost warrior, giving them monies for whatever needs they might have. No child went without when the Division knew a need existed.

Gophers performed any task that presently required attention. I fetched supplies, personnel, researched everything under the sun and moon put together, typed up reports, scheduled appointments, answered phones, and any other chore my supervisors deemed necessary. Basically they expected everything to float down the tranquil river on the African Queen while avoiding the white water rapids at all costs. That responsibility fell to all gophers, including me, within the organization.

I treasured the job.

The boys raced down the stairs and grabbed onto Meat before he had the chance to escape. With the escort, we all headed toward the front porch where the boys took off for a quick game of tag and Dad watched Meat and I say our goodbyes at his Jaguar.

It's really hard to share more than a chaste kiss on the lips when your father is watching from only a few feet away. By his mischievous grin as I returned to the house, he knew exactly what influence his presence made. No matter the age or lack of shared biology, fathers never changed.

CHAPTER 13

Before Meat had left, he'd asked me to come to the club that evening to watch him dance. With his sexy grin and purring, how could I not? Besides, it was Saturday night and I could sleep in the next morning.

Dutifully, I made an appearance, giving the pinky wave to the usual mountain of a man that guarded the door. He just shook his head, stamped my hand, and ignored me like a tiny gnat. Suited me just fine. I could imagine one stomp and I would be a delicate ink spot on the floor.

A few steps in, I nearly plowed into Ducian. "Oh, hi."

He looked down, shooting me a dull stare. "You again?"

"Jeez. Nice to know I was missed." I stuck my nose in the air.