An answering smile broke over his face. “I would love to come back home with you,” he said.
She held out her hand. Ken reached forward without any hesitation and grabbed hold of it. “Then let’s go,” she said.
***
Ken hadn’t been sure what to expect from Lynn’s home. Something utilitarian, he’d figured—maybe a small, neat house, or a duplex or something. She didn’t seem like the sort of woman who’d want something extravagant.
He took in the big, old, rambling home that she led him to with muted astonishment. All right, he still wouldn’t call it extravagant—it was clearly old, and the paint was peeling in places, and it wasn’t like it was a mansion or anything—but it was definitely more house than he would’ve thought she needed.
She led the way up the walk, and said over her shoulder, “This is my family’s house. I inherited it when my grandmother died.”
Oh. That explained it.
“Well,” she added, “technically, my sister and I inherited it together. But she doesn’t live here anymore.”
Ken made a mental note to find out more about Lynn’s sister. From the bits and pieces he’d heard so far, it seemed like there was a story there.
Lynn put her key in the lock and opened the old, weathered front door. Ken followed her inside…and stopped, staring.
The foyer was enormous, stretching up two stories; only his shifter eyes allowed him to see the ceiling in the unlit gloom.
Then Lynn turned on the light, and Ken could suddenly see the whole place stretching out around him—not just the enormous foyer, but the beautiful carved-wood staircase going up to another floor, a hall leading back into the depths of the house, and on either side of him, large rooms. The one to his left had huge windows, a fireplace, and a lot of overstuffed furniture, while the one to the right…every wall that Ken could see was made of built-in bookshelves full of books.
“Wow,” he said finally.
Lynn was looking at him, he realized when he tore his eyes away from all of the…house. She had a little frown between her eyebrows, but it didn’t look like an upset frown. More surprised.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve brought anyone here,” she said. “I forgot that it makes an impression.”
“A hell of an impression,” Ken agreed. “This place is amazing. I want a tour.”
Lynn smiled. “Of course. There’s the front room.” She gestured to the room with the fireplace and the couches. “When I’m home, I spend a lot of time there. With the fire going, it’s cozy. This place can get pretty chilly in the wintertime, so it’s good to pick a room, close up all the doors and windows, and heat it as best you can.”
Ken pictured Lynn, wrapped in blankets, curled up in front of the fire, and smiled. “And over there?”
“That was my grandmother’s library,” Lynn said, a little wistfully. “She read a lot. That’s something I didn’t really inherit—Stella’s the one who loves books, and her daughter Eva. I wish they spent more time here, so someone was using it. Anyway, my grandmother used to write her letters at that desk there. Back before email.”
Ken pictured it—a sturdy old woman, keeping in touch with her friends and family, writing gracefully with some kind of antique pen. Surrounded by books. “I wish I could’ve known her,” he said quietly.
“Me, too,” Lynn said, even more quietly.
“I’ll know her through you.” Ken took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she squeezed it and smiled at him.
“And through the house,” Lynn added. “My great-grandfather built this place, her father, and she grew up in it and made it hers.” She nodded toward the hallway. “Come on.”
They went back down the darkened hallway, which opened up into an enormous kitchen. “This is wasted on me,” Lynn said over her shoulder. “I barely cook. The appliances are all old, but they’re sturdy, built to last.”
Ken wasn’t much of a cook, either, but he liked the idea of learning in a place like this. Mastering this enormous space. Cooking for his mate. Bringing her breakfast in bed. He smiled to himself.
Lynn was already moving forward. “There’s a sun room back here—perfect for curling up and taking a nap when you’re shifted.” Ken saw a big room encased in windows, with wicker furniture but also a nice, thick carpet. He could just picture a sunny afternoon in there, stretching out in his lion form alongside Lynn, snoozing together.
“And a bathroom, and a pantry,” Lynn finished. “And the yard, of course, but you can barely tell the yard from the forest. Half the time, I forget where our property technically ends.”
Ken could see the darkness of the
trees stretching out from the house, sloping upward towards the mountains.
“Some of the neighbors get a lot of wildlife messing with their gardens or their trash cans,” Lynn said with a smile, “but we never do.”