Cree
“You’re sure your friends won’t mind an extra guest?”
Cree glanced over at Tamara hugging the side of the truck. “You aren’t a guest. You’re family.”
Tamara glanced out the side window. “Thank you for that. And for letting me sleep all night.”
“You were exhausted. I would have put you in my bed, but I thought that might make you uncomfortable.”
“Is that why my things are in the back of your truck?” Her hands clenched and Cree was hit with the unmistakable scent of salty tears.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable with Lacey and Quinn up at Little Yellow. At least until we can find you a place of your own.”
She’d fallen asleep so sweetly. Her sweet breath tickling his chest. Despite the near torture to himself, Cree allowed her to sleep as she wanted. Eventually, he’d stretched her out on the couch and went to his own cold bed.
But this morning, she was withdrawn. Sullen. Not at all the same mood she’d been in yesterday.
Silence fell between them. Lengthened. Finally, Cree couldn’t take it anymore. For a man used to living alone, he had quickly adjusted to Tamara. “Did I say or do something wrong last night? I didn’t touch you or take advantage in any way. I promise.”
He pulled the truck over to look at her. Small movements told him a lot.
“You’ll think I'm silly,” she confessed, her voice so low even his superior hearing had trouble picking up her words.
“We won’t know unless you tell me.” Cree held his hand over hers, letting her feel his heat and life force without touching.
“You’re so patient with me.” Tamara flipped her hand, letting their palms touch. The sensation of his mate voluntarily touching him shook Cree to the core.
“You’re my Tamara. My Tams. My—”
“Don’t say it!” she warned with a laugh.
“My Tam o’ shanter,” he finished with a chuckle.
“I hated that nickname,” she grumbled.
He let her statement stand, but they both knew it was only half-true. She may not have liked when he called her Tam o’ shanter, but it was nothing like the other one. Tammy. The one both Elliot and her mother called her.
“Now that we’ve established what I can and can’t call you, why don’t you tell me what I did wrong?”
“You’re getting rid of me.”
Cree stopped breathing, not sure he heard her correctly. He opened his mouth to ask her but shut it. He scented how real her feelings were to her.
“I am not getting rid of you. There is no way we can live in my 500 square foot house and not touch, Tam.” He reached over to hug her close to him, but she flinched.
“I’m sorry!”
“No, stop. Baby, please, look at me. Look at my eyes. It’s me. Creole.”
Tamara took a deep, shuddering breath before forcing her eyes opened. “You have beautiful eyes,” she whispered.
“I know you’re afraid of me. You have every right.”
“No, I’m not afraid of you.”
“I killed a man in front of you. You were a child. I was just as much a part of the trauma as that bastard was.”
“It was in defense of me.”
“Your mother was right,” Cree said, pain roughening his voice. “This last decade? There wasn’t just the memory of him. You’re running from me too. I can’t imagine any woman wants to believe that the man she loves this a killer.”
“No!” Tamara’s voice shook with emotion. The single word became a ragged cry of denial.
“Yes,” Cree said flatly. “I killed Roger .”
“No, Adele was wrong. You didn’t enter our trailer planning to kill Mr. Elliot. You saved my life.”
“Which is why I was charged with justifiable homicide, not murder one. A man is dead just the same.”
“I know you. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“There’s something that you still haven’t faced, Tamara.” Cree spoke slowly. Clearly. Leaving no room for any misunderstandings between them. “When I saw that bastard hurting you, he was a dead man walking. There was no way I was going to let him leave your bedroom alive.”
Tamara’s closed as she accepted what Cree said. “Cree,” she whispered.
“I remember, even if you don’t. The horror in your eyes as I let Elliot die in front of you. It will haunt me forever.”
“I was just a little girl! What was I supposed to do? I shut down. That kind of trauma at nine? After we moved, I went to a mental hospital for over a year. It was too much, Creole!”
“I know.” He remained calm. Steady. Secure. Cree wanted to close his hand around her smaller one but was afraid of triggering her again. “I am proud of you for facing your demons then. For facing me, now. Your bravery humbles me, Tams.”
She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, breaking his heart.
“I need you to know. You don’t owe me anything. Certainly not trust. I haven’t earned that yet. You’re here. Alive. That’s all I need. That’s all I have ever needed.”
“But I do trust you,” Tamara cried.
“We will both know when that’s true,” Cree said sadly. “When being near me no longer makes you flinch.” Their gazes met as he let his words sink in. Quietly. Securely. “It has nothing to do with not wanting you. It has nothing to do with me loving you. If anything, I love you enough to give you the space you need.”
Tamara wiped her cheeks and nodded.
“We will take this day by day until you are no longer afraid of me.”
Cree waited until Tamara nodded before starting the truck and heading to his friend’s house.
Tamara
“Creeeeee,” Lacey called as she bounced off the porch and ran towards them.
“Laceeeee,” Cree said, hugging Lacey close. “Lacey, I’d like you to meet Tamara Brennan. My mate.”
Tamara’s eyes filled with tears at the pride in his tone. She smiled and purposefully slipped her hand into his as a sign of solidarity.
Lacey’s eyebrows raised. “Oh.” She looked back and forth between them. “I take it you’re not dead.”
Tamara laughed and in spite of her initial distrust of Lacey, found herself warming to the woman who clearly spoke her mind. “I’m afraid the news of my death was a bit premature.”
“Go play with the boys,” Lacey ordered, effectively dismissing Creole. “There is a story here I am dying to know.”
“Play with the boys?” Tamara asked.
“Hmm. Yeah, they’re playing shifter kickball. Crazy sport. I don’t recommend it for us human types.”
“You’re in good hands. I promise,” Cree called before jogging to the courtyard between the cabins to play a few innings of shifter kickball.
Tamara watched their antics. “Are there rules?”
“None that we’ve been able to tell,” another woman said as she approached. “Hi, I’m Hadley.” She nodded to the man currently arguing with Cree. “That’s my mate, Hunter.”
“The dude with biceps as big as my head?”
Hadley sighed, smitten. “Yep, that’s my man.”
“Why is he fighting with Creole?”
“They sometimes get on each other’s nerves,” Hadley said with a wry smile.
“Yo, Hunter! Remember who saved your life,” Lacey called, her voice rising above the general rabble of shifter arguments.
“Creole saved his life?” Tamara was instantly curious. “He doesn’t talk much about himself. What happened?”
“It was the fire last summer.” Hadley played with the hem of her T-shirt. “Hunter went in to save some kids. He got Quinn and a little boy out, but the smoke inhalation was too much. He couldn’t get out.”
Hadley and Lacey exchanged a look. Tamara felt she was again missing a key plot point but didn’t push for answers.
“Cree went in after him. Made him shift. He could carry a grown man out of the building, but you know. Grizzlies aren’t easy to move.”
Again, Tamara felt humbled by the man Creole had grown into.
“What are the plastic bags for?”
Tamara looked up to see an exquisite young woman carrying a baby approach them.
“Hi, I’m Kimber. Hunter’s sister,” she introduced herself. “Sorry, I’d shake your hand, but you know. Baby.”
Tamara smiled. “No problem.” She turned to watch the men again. “What is with the plastic garbage bags?”
Lacey sighed. “Shifter kickball gets complicated. They put plastic down on the baseline and spray water on it.”
“That seems slippery,” Tamara said, fighting a grin.
“And messy. Stupid games they like to play. The only rule Quinn made was there could be no headshots.”
Tamara’s eyes grew wide. “Headshots? Like, with the ball?” She cringed, knowing the inherent strength of the men. “Yeah, this seems like a game better left to shifter types.”
“Exactly.
Several other men showed up. Tamara recognized the bouncer from the Lusty Leopard.
“So, what do we do while they play?” Tamara asked.
Hadley sipped on a drink. She wagged her eyebrows lasciviously. “Oh, sweetie. We get to watch.”
<<<>>>
After a few innings of shirtless men slipping and sliding along the baseline, Lacey got up to refresh their drinks.
“I’ll help,” Tamara said. She stood and followed Lacey into her cozy home. “This is so cute.”
“Thanks. I’m working on it. Quinn only had a bed, a couch, and a TV when I met him.”
Tamara smiled up at Lacey through her bangs. The other woman’s friendship was easy going and comfortable. “Does your T-shirt actually say ‘Llamaste’?”
Lacey shrugged as she picked up a tray of food. “Llamas like yoga, too,” she said.
Tamara laughed. “I hope so. Or, I hope lots of people do. I’m a certified yoga instructor. I was thinking of either finding a school to teach at or opening a studio of my own.”
“That’s great,” Lacey said, eyes lighting with pleasure. “Had, guess what?”
But Hadley’s eyes were decidedly on her mate’s firm bottom. “Huh?”
“Ugh, that woman,” Lacey rolled her eyes. “you’d think as a nurse practitioner she’d be used to seeing butts.”
“I will never get tired of seeing Hunter’s ass.” Hadley laughed. “Now, what were you talking about?”
“Tamara wants to open a yoga studio in town.”
“I always wanted to try yoga,” Kimber admitted shyly.
“We’ll take turns watching the baby,” Hadley promised. She turned to Tamara. “We’ll do all we can to help it be a huge success.”
“Make what a huge success?” Cree asked as he headed over for a drink of water.
“Game over already?” Hadley asked with a pout.
“Oh, gee willikers, Hadley. It’s not like you don’t live with the man. You see him all the time,” Lacey scolded with a laugh. She turned to Cree. “Tamara wants to open a yoga shop in town. We’re already dividing up babysitting duties, so we can all go.”
“That’s great, Tams,” Cree said. He swallowed half a bottle of water. “We can call a realtor. Maybe take a look at some places this week, if you’d like?”
Tamara’s head tilted shyly. She reached out for Cree’s hand and held it lightly in hers. “I’d like that.”
“You’re probably going to be fixing my poses all over the place. The last time I went to a yoga class, I think I must have done every pose wrong,” Hadley complained.
“Oh, I don’t touch without asking,” Tamara rushed to explain. She blushed. “Some people don’t like to be touched. Especially veterans. It can be triggering to have a stranger touch you like that.”
Cree’s eyes grew hooded at her confession, and she blushed harder. Unwilling to examine her emotions further, she brushed a kiss across his lips. Gossamer light. Tender.
“Don’t think you can use kissing your girl as a reason to get out of clean up,” Hunter teased.
Cree jerked his chin towards the mess. “I need to help. I’ll be right back.”
Tamara watched him leave.
“Everything okay with you two?” Lacey asked. She held her hands up. “I know, I know. I'm nosy. I know. But I love Cree like a brother.”
“I’m not sure. I had a strong trauma as a kid. I don’t really like being touched.” Tamara’s eyes filled with tears. “He deserves a better mate.”
Lacey looked from Tamara to Cree. “Baby girl, he can’t take his eyes off of you.” She paused, waiting for Tamara to look at her. “The thought of your death haunted him. I don’t know all of what happened. I’ll get it out of both of you, eventually. But whatever happened. Whatever is between you. Creole James will move heaven and earth to make sure it works.”
Tamara nodded. Lacey was right. There was no point arguing over it.
“Who’s ready for some food?” Quinn asked as he stepped out of his house with a plate full of hamburger patties.
Jason, the bartender, was on his heels with several boxes of wine.
“Boxed wine?” Tamara asked. She wasn’t quite old enough to drink but always assumed good wine didn’t come in boxes.
“Don’t think about it like boxed wine,” Hadley teased. “Try juice boxes for adults.”
Jason snorted. “A meal without liquor is called breakfast. And even that is only if you’re out.”