“Lainie. Lainie Eaves.”
Lainie Eaves. Harrison reached out to shake her hand, focusing with his shifter senses at the same time. Lainie Eaves: beautiful eyes, soft hands, and not a hint of shifter about her. She was human.
Harrison released her hand and settled back into his chair. Lainie being human didn’t matter to him. He already knew she was perfect just the way she was.
He nodded to her bowl. “I guess Caro’s already given you the welcome speech?”
Lainie bit her lip, but the hint of a smile edged its way through. “Chowder and ice-cream? Oh, and it’s a shame I’m only staying overnight. Does that cover it?”
“You’re only staying overnight? Caro’s right, that is a shame.” Harrison spoke without thinking, and with too much undisguised passion in his voice. Lainie glanced up at him, her eyes questioning. “I mean there’s more to Hideaway Cove than just chowder and ice cream. If you were here longer—”
“I really won’t be.” Lainie spoke so quickly, she almost tripped over her words. Harrison frowned slightly as she took a sip of wine, giving herself time to recover.
That’s strange. There’s something more going on there, I’m sure of it.
Then again, there’s more to Hideaway Cove than chowder and ice cream, too. Much more.
Harrison glanced down at where Arlo was sitting patiently on the floor beside the table. The wolf shifter stared back at him. Harrison didn’t need to use his shifter telepathy to understand the message behind that look.
“Caro,” he called, waving over the heads of the restaurant’s other patrons to get her attention. “My usual? And, uhh, the mutt’s usual, too…”
He could see Caro rolling her eyes even from across the room. When he leaned back in his chair, Lainie was hiding another smile.
“Your dog has a usual?”
“Oh, sure,” Harrison said, inventing wildly. “Usually everyone else’s leftovers, mashed up and stuck in a washing-up tub. You wouldn’t believe how much the old mongrel eats.”
He grinned down at Arlo, who gave him the most disgusted look his wolf form was capable of.
*You owe me, Harrison,* the wolf shifter grumbled silently.
“What is he? He looks kinda…” Lainie frowned. Harrison didn’t blame her. Arlo looked like what he was: a giant, black-grey wolf. At the moment, after a full day out on his fishing boat, a giant, black-grey, salt-encrusted wolf.
“Oh, he’s a bit of everything, aren’t you, old boy? Husky, German Shepherd, a bit of Pomeranian…”
*Asshole.*
“He’s very well behaved.”
Harrison leaned down and ruffled Arlo’s ears with a wicked grin. “Isn’t he? Good boy, waiting for your din-dins.” He nodded at Lainie’s plate. “Do
n’t let me keep you from your dinner. I’m happy to yammer on while you eat.”
“No, I’m fine,” Lainie demurred. She was only halfway through her bowl of chowder, which Harrison knew by long experience was mouth-wateringly good, but she pushed it away firmly. “So… you live here in Hideaway Cove?”
“I’ve got a place on the water, around the other side of the bay. Lived here for ten years, more or less.” Harrison settled into telling the story, which was as familiar as an old sweater. “I grew up out of state, and left home after my parents passed away suddenly. I had all these grand ideas about living on the road, like some sort of Lone Ranger in a mustang. That lasted until I drove in here, and somehow I never got around to leaving. I did an apprenticeship with the local builder and handyman, and took over his business when he passed.”
“It sounds like you’re here to stay.” Lainie played with the stem of her wine-glass, not meeting Harrison’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. You didn’t have any trouble fitting in here? I mean, you hear about small towns being…”
“…Welcoming, friendly and caring?” Harrison interjected with a laugh. “No, I know some places do have a reputation. But I fitted in to Hideaway Cove like I belonged here. And now, I do.”
It’s not like there’s anywhere else I can live openly as a shifter.
After his parents died, Harrison had thought he would have to live constantly on the move, in case someone got too close and he let slip what he was. Instead, he found a place that welcomed him like a lost son.
The arrival of the waitress with Harrison and Arlo’s meals interrupted their conversation briefly. Harrison winked at Jools, who grimaced back at him. He’d already heard from Guts about Jools’ slip earlier, about her feather earrings. Made from her feathers, of course. Jools was one of four gull shifter sisters, Guts’ nieces, all of whom seemed to enjoy making crafts out of their shed feathers.
Harrison raised his pint in a toast. “Here’s to your first visit to Hideaway Cove,” he said.