The Shifter Romances The Writer (Nocturne Falls Book 6) (24 page)

Carmen sat for a moment. “Then you didn’t reject him because he’s a panther shifter?”

“No.” Roxy leaned her elbows on the table. “But I’m not entirely sure what that means. In my fictional world, sure, but not in reality. Is he…not human?”

Carmen huffed out a breath. “He should have told you all this.”

“I think he tried. But I was too upset. I threw him and my friend out before they could really explain.”

Carmen reached over and patted Roxy’s hand. “And you had every right. The truth about what we are isn’t something that can just be thrust upon a person. It has to be carefully explained.”

“We?” Roxy leaned back. “Then you’re a were-cat too?”

“I am. We all are in our family.” Carmen stood up and smoothed the front of her blouse. Then she took a step back, the air around her shimmering like she was about to combust, and a second later, a large black cat about the size of a Labrador retriever sat on the other side of Roxy’s dining room table.

Roxy’s hands fell to her sides. She stared, mouth open.

A second later, the cat turned into Carmen again. She ran a hand over her jet curls and carried on like nothing unusual had just happened. “You see? Nothing to be scared of. Same person. Just a different form.”

Roxy nodded, not entirely sure what to say or how to react. It wasn’t every day someone brought you delicious cake, then turned into a panther right in front of you.

Carmen took her seat at the table. “You know, my Alex has never told a human girlfriend that he’s a panther shifter. It’s not an easy thing for any of us to do. People are afraid of us. Or they treat us like animals. Or side-shows.”

Roxy tried to imagine Alex’s side of things and what it would be like to reveal something so unbelievable about yourself.

“You and Alex have only known each other a short time. I’m sure you have some things you haven’t told him yet.”

“Yes, but being a shifter? That’s sort of a big detail to hold back.”

“It is. I agree.” Carmen moved her fork around on the plate. She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not once did I see Alex mope about a girl when he was a teenager. In fact, I’ve never seen my boy heartbroken before. But he is desperately heartbroken now.”

Roxy swallowed. She knew the feeling.

Carmen’s brows arched. “Remember when Marabella left Wolfgang because she thought he would be better off without her? The pain he was in? The way he suffered?”

Roxy nodded. “I do.”

“Alex is your Wolfgang. You’re his Marabella. Please talk to him. Let him explain. You can come over to the house and have dinner with us.”

“I don’t know.”

Carmen glanced over at the pizza box. “Homemade pork loin with rice and beans and sweet plantains.”

Roxy’s stomach growled. She couldn’t avoid Alex forever. They lived next door after all. She glanced down at herself. “Okay. But not like this.”

Alex finally got out of the shower, dried off, then threw on clean shorts and went back to the kitchen to apologize for being short with his mother. He knew she only wanted to help, and she only wanted to do that because she loved him.

But his mother wasn’t in the kitchen. Nor was she on the back porch. Or getting anything out of her car. She wasn’t anywhere that he could see. He checked the counter for a note, but there wasn’t one.

It wasn’t like her to walk away from a full oven.

He went to the bedroom to grab his cell phone and check to see if she’d texted. He was just unlocking the screen when he heard the front door open.

“Alex, are you decent? We have company for dinner.”

Had she gone to Diego’s? That was impossible. She hadn’t had enough time. Alex had been in the shower a long while, but not enough for her to go to Diego’s and back. She could have called him, though. And Diego could have driven over.

She must have been outside somewhere waiting for him. Alex walked down the hall to see if Diego was going to get any grief over his new girlfriend or if that was just reserved for—Alex stopped as he entered the living room.

Roxy stood in the foyer with his mother. Her hair was damp and twisted into a loose bun, a few tendrils springing out around her face. She wore another pretty sundress like the night she’d come over to have dinner with him and sit in the hot tub. “Hi.” There was no smile, but there was no indication she was unhappy either.

“Hi,” he said back. A thread of hope unwound in him.

She didn’t quite make eye contact. “Your mother brought me cake. And then she turned into a were-cat in my dining room.”

“Panther shifter,” Alex and his mother responded in unison.

“Panther shifter,” Roxy corrected. “I’m not here because everything is automatically forgiven. We need to talk. But your mom promised me a home-cooked dinner and I’ve had a lot of takeout lately. I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s very okay.” He took back every grumpy thought he’d ever had about his mother. Who was currently giving him a look he knew very well. She wasn’t happy with him.

“Alex, go put a shirt on.”

“In a second, Mom.”

Before she could say anything else, she threw her hands in the air. “My pork loin!” She rushed into the kitchen, leaving Alex alone with the most perfect woman in the world. He took a few steps toward her. “I’m really glad you came, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She bit her lip. “Me, too. We have a lot to talk about.”

He nodded. “I’m all answers. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Not over dinner. Not in front of your mom.”

“Understood. Thank you for coming.”

She shrugged. “Your mother’s pretty hard to say no to.”

He smiled. “Welcome to my life.”

The little half-smile he got in response was perfect. “You really should go put a shirt on. It’s very distracting looking at all…” She waved her hands at him. “This.”

“In a second.” The thread of hope unwound a little more, buoyed by her presence. Things weren’t back to normal by any means, but at least he and Roxy were speaking again. He took another step toward her. She smelled like flowers and soap. It was a good smell. He lowered his voice. “But first, I have to tell you that you’re one of the strongest people I know. You made your own success and you left a man who didn’t treat you right. That takes guts. I will never underestimate you again. And I don’t blame you for being mad at me. I was an idiot.

She sighed and nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He lifted a finger. “Shirt.”

He raced to his room, grabbed the first clean T-shirt he saw and dragged it over his head. Then he returned to her, so wishing he could touch her cheek or take her hand or make contact with her somehow, but that was too much to ask of her in this moment. “Do you think we could talk now? At least enough to make you comfortable? We could go sit on the back porch. Have a drink. My mother brought sangria.”

She glanced toward the rear sliders, then nodded. “Okay.”

That single word sent a new burst of happiness through him. “Great. C’mon.” He headed for the porch, opening the slider to let her through. Then he went to the fridge, pulled out the sangria and a fresh beer for himself, and poured Roxy a glass of the fruity wine his mother loved so much. “Mom, we’ll be outside. Call us when dinner’s ready.”

She wiped her hands on a towel and smiled at him. “You take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.” He hesitated. “For everything.”

She lifted her chin proudly. “No one can resist my
tres leches
.”

He winked at her. “I’m sure that’s what it was.” He slipped outside and closed the slider with his elbow, minding the drinks in his hands.

Roxy was sitting on the love seat that faced the yard. She seemed pensive. A mood he well understood.

He took the chair next to the love seat, handing her the glass of sangria as he sat. “This is my mother’s version. Fair warning, she spikes it with more brandy than is actually called for.”

“Good to know.” Roxy just stared at the glass but didn’t drink. “I don’t know where to start.”

He sipped his beer, then nodded. “I cannot imagine what it must feel like to find out that everything you’ve ever thought was make-believe is suddenly real.”

She stared out at the yard. “It’s overwhelming. And a little scary. And it makes me feel like…a fool.”

He jerked back. “How so?”

She laughed sadly. “I don’t know if I can really put it into words. It’s sort of like I’ve been caught imitating something I have no right imitating. What do I really know about the supernatural world? Nothing. Nothing beyond what I’ve made up in my books. And who knows how much of that is completely wrong or utterly ridiculous or if the supernatural creatures of the world think I’m making fun of them or—”

“I don’t think you should feel that way at all. My mother and her friends love your books. So do half the women in this town. I don’t think that would be true if you were writing stories that didn’t do…our kind justice. From what I read, you did a great job with the supernatural stuff.”

She smiled a little, like she’d forgotten he’d read one of her books. “Are all your mother’s friends panther shifters too?”

“No. Two of them are witches, one’s a nymph and Mrs. Irving is a ghost.”

Roxy turned her head to blink at him, open-mouthed. She stayed that way for a few long seconds. “I have no idea if you’re joking or not.”

“In light of recent events, I don’t think joking about any of this is a good idea. At least not for a while.”

She took an extended sip of her sangria, then held her glass in her lap and took a deep breath. “So ghosts are real. Are there ghosts in this town too?”

“We have a few.”

“What else? How many vampires?”

“A good number. I don’t know for sure. That’s something you should probably talk to Delaney about.”

Roxy put her hand to her forehead and sighed. “I really need to talk to her. In fact, I should text her right now. See if we can get together tomorrow, maybe, if she’s free.”

“That’s a great idea.” He waited a moment while she put her wine on the small center table, then pulled her phone from her pocket. “This is all going to be okay, you know.”

“I’m glad you think that.”

“But you don’t?”

She looked at him. “I want it to be. But I don’t know yet. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m an outsider looking in. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely. But I hope you don’t feel that way for long. Delaney wanted you to move here, so she had every intention from the beginning of telling you about all of this. She just didn’t right away because you were already under so much stress.”

Roxy opened her mouth, then closed it again and shook her head. “I owe you a thank-you.”

“For what?”

“For tackling Thomas in my yard that night. My divorce papers arrived by FedEx yesterday. I feel pretty certain your intervention helped that along.”

He smiled, and the hope growing in his gut turned into anticipation. Roxy St. James was a single woman. “If I did, then you’re welcome. Hey, what was in that box he brought? Or did you just throw it away?”

“What box?”

“I put it on your dining room table. Or I thought I did.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing it. But then I haven’t paid attention to much these past few days. I’ll have to look for it when I get home.” Her mouth curved into a funny little half-smile. “I owe you a second thank-you, actually.”

“Really? What’s this one for?”

“That flan. That probably saved you from being killed off in a book.”

He laughed, a loud burst of sound. “Do you do that a lot? Kill people off in books?”

She shrugged coyly, and it felt like they were back to being okay. “Sometimes. It’s a great way to get your frustrations out.”

“I would have thought yours was driving fast.”

Her smile took a wistful bend. “I need to get back in that car, that’s for sure.”

Silence passed between them, then she tipped her head and gave him an odd look. “That Sunday that my fish tank was being installed, I thought I saw a black panther in your backyard. Was that you?”

He sat back, resting his beer on the arm of the chair. “First of all, how can you see into my backyard?”