Laura nodded, letting his clever fingers massage her toes. She’d been on the phone for nearly three hours with the operative of a mysterious government agency that represented shifter issues. It didn’t sound like hard work, but she’d spent most of it pacing nervously.
“He’s got all the paperwork in motion for getting me declared not dead,” she said. “We’re going with the story that I was concussed and picked up by an illegal Central American fisher, and eventually left here at the resort. Fred has been transferred to American custody already. Our testimony might not have been enough, but he had rambled an insane confession before they even made the exchange with the Civil Guard. Tony says that it’s going to take a while to unravel the paperwork regarding the inheritance, but signs are good that the money will be ours free and clear.”
“And the cartel?”
“He took my testimony, and got the slow grinding gears of the American legal system working on that, as well. He thinks it’s a good idea that Jenny and I lay low here until they’ve gathered enough evidence, which is probably best for a while anyway.”
“How is Jenny?” Tex asked, more seriously, switching feet.
“Oo,” Laura said, as his fingers found the sorest spots. “She’s… better. Shifting is still really painful for her, and she hasn’t exactly sorted out how to deal with the otter in her head, but Gizelle says she can help her.”
“I’m so glad you have her back,” Tex said, in his sincere drawl.
“Me, too,” Laura agreed. She took her feet back and sat up, looking up towards the pool deck. “The resort seems so peaceful today,” she said wonderingly.
“This is a lot more normal for us,” Tex assured her sitting beside her and putting an arm over her shoulders. “Last week was an anomaly, and while it looks like we’ve got more business than usual coming up, by comparison, it should be incredibly peaceful.”
“I am going to love working here,” Laura said with a sigh, letting Tex nibble at her neck.
“Scarlet would probably let you stay on credit,” Tex told her.
Laura shook her head. “I don’t want to,” she said firmly. “Even if we’re millionaires or whatever, I think I’d rather be part of something like this than sit on my ass paying people to wait on me.”
“It’s a fine ass,” Tex said admiringly.
“Undeniably,” Laura teased back. “I hope you’ll have time to finally play that guitar you drag everywhere, now that it’s quieter.”
It was leaning in the beach cabana now, and it didn’t take more than the suggestion for Tex to walk over and get it. He sat back down with it cradle in his hands, testing the tuning with a few bars of a Spanish love song.
Laura leaned back and let him start playing a sad song about death that took a bizarre turn halfway through and turned into a plea to prop his corpse up by the jukebox if he died.
Laura ended up in tears of laughter and clapped as he played the final lines. “All these years I thought I hated country music,” she said, “and didn’t realize what I was missing.”
Then she sobered. “There is something terribly important I am still missing though.”
Tex looked worried and his fingers, which had continued playing chords, stilled on the strings. “What is it? Anything you need, I’ll get it for you.”
“I never found out who won the Mr. Shifter competition,” Laura told him with deadpan seriousness. “My life cannot be complete without this knowledge!”
The lines around Tex’s eyes crinkled perfectly with his laugh. “Mr. India,” he told her, when his guffaws let him. “Mr. Brazil was the first runner up, and Mr. Ireland was the second runner up. Did you lose any bets?”
Laura shrugged. “I’m just tickled that Mr. Canada didn’t place. That was my only desire.”
“Your only desire?” Tex said suggestively. He kissed her neck again, letting teeth brush her skin.
“Well, maybe not my only desire,” Laura agreed with a breathless laugh.
They made it back to Laura’s little cottage in the jungle with their clothing barely intact; Tex had gotten his shirt off, and Laura’s shorts were unbuttoned by the time the door was open. The remaining articles had been shed by the time they reached the bed.
Tex lowered her onto the mattress as if she were weightless, then joined her there, his skin like hot velvet against hers.
He paused, thick member at her entrance, but not pressing. “I’m yours,” he told her, voice low and rough with emotion.
Wild with need and hunger, Laura pressed herself up and around him. “I’m yours,” she agreed.
But Tex held back. “Do you mean it?” he asked.
Laura stilled. “I mean it completely,” she said. “I’m yours.”