“I enjoy meeting all the new people who come here,” Lydia said simply. “My work is very varied, and although it is sometimes busy, I never get bored.”
“Do you like the people you work with?” The woman was over-the-top nosy. “Do you get new people in very often?”
“Turnover is high,” Lydia said agreeably. “Not everyone can handle the isolation. But we have a really excellent core staff that is like family.”
She was glad when the woman finally turned to converse with the woman across the aisle from her, and she could politely return to watching the island grow below her.
Every time she returned from visiting with her family or renewing her certification, she felt more and more like she was coming home.
But this time was different.
This time, her mate was there.
She had always known where he was, like a faint compass pull; most swan shifters had a mate sense. The tug had always been weak enough that she’d never felt compelled to drop her life in progress to find him. Even as she got older and her younger sisters and brothers went seeking their own partners as their mate sense matured, she had waited in the wings, trying to be patient and trust that things were happening as they should.
Now, her patience would finally be rewarded, and she could not help squirming with nervous excitement.
What would he be like? A guest at a shifters-only resort, so he was a shifter, and probably well-to-do if he could afford Shifting Sands’ exclusive pricing. Would he be young? Old? Blonde? Tall? Short? Would he sweep her away in a romantic dance at the next formal? Or go swimming with her at the beach at midnight?
Lydia put a finger to the cross at the base of her throat. She had to believe she would love him no matter what. She just had to trust that this was her path to happiness and have faith that they were going to be perfect for each other.
The hot tropical air that greeted her when the plane doors opened smelled amazing and charged with energy. She let the guests disembark first, struggling with their overstuffed carry-ons and exclaiming over the humid, scented air.
By the time she was off the plane, the resort van had already departed with the first batch of guests, leaving her with the second group and the extra luggage.
The white-haired woman had secured a seat on the first van trip, and the few remaining guests were sitting in the little open shelter that was the only structure at the landing strip. They seemed to be an equal mix of patiently enjoying the tropical view and feeling slighted that they were having to wait. A middle-aged brunette woman immersed a book sat between a bored-looking blonde wearing impractical heels and a young Swede. The Swede was trying to explain over her head to the blonde that he was a professional hockey player. She didn’t look impressed.
A grim-faced man completed the group, and he scowled at everyone and then walked to the far end of the structure to light a cigarette. He didn’t look like the sort to book a solo vacation at Shifting Sands, but they did get all kinds.
When Travis, the resort handyman, returned with the van, she enfolded him in a warm, brief hug, and then helped load the luggage in the back.
“We’ve got stories,” the lynx shifter told her, a merry twinkle in his eyes. “So many stories!”
“I can’t wait to hear them,” Lydia said eagerly. He looked different, somehow, though he’d been so overworked and stressed out when she left that perhaps it was only that he’d finally gotten a decent night of sleep.
The road back to the resort was noticeably worse than it had been when she left, thanks to the storm that had just swept through, and the jaw-chattering trip was too rough for conversation, or much of anything except clinging to the side rails in the van trying not to end up on anyone else’s lap.
Graham, the lion shifter in charge of landscaping, met them at the resort entrance to help unload the luggage and Lydia caught him for a quick hug as well. He gave her a dutiful kiss on the cheek and said gruffly, “Welcome back.” Then he picked up more of the giant suitcases than looked possible and vanished down into the greenery.
The resort owner, Scarlet, was checking guests in and paused in her task to flash Lydia a quick welcome smile. “Meeting at three!” she called, and Lydia waved and carried her own small bag to the top of the path down into the resort.
She paused for only a moment, to soak in the familiar view. Her mate was down there, somewhere tantalizingly close, and she longed to drop her bag and fly to find him.
But she’d waited this long to meet him and she could wait a little longer. She knew that her spa would soon be busy with all the new arrivals and duty called first.
Chapter 3
Wrench was used to crowds. The bigger the crowd, the easier it was to get lost.
But he was used to city crowds, crowds that would elbow you aside without a glance, crowds that didn’t care.
He wasn’t used to resort crowds.
They came all in a flock, chatting and gaping around the place like the tourists they were, asking anyone in earshot how to find the thing right in front of them. They smelled like airplanes and booze, and they all had the terribly unnerving habit of looking right at him with wide, curious eyes instead of pretending he didn’t exist like people in crowds ought to.
“This is the rush,” Tex told him, when Wrench found himself backed up to the bear shifter’s bar trying to avoid a grandma maneuvering a monstrous plaid thing on wheels. “When the charter plane comes in full, there are always a few hours of chaos as everyone tries to figure out where things are and everyone wants to try everything. It’ll ease up in a few hours.”
“Can I help?” Wrench asked with dread.