Wrench,” Travis said.

Panther shifter Warren “Wrench” Martin looked at him blankly for just a moment before he realized that the lynx shifter handyman was asking for the tool, not initiating a conversation. He dug into the toolbox between them and handed Travis the requested tool with a grunt.

He watched as Travis opened the problematic trap, and dumped the sludge out of it into a waiting 5 gallon bucket. “Ahah!” he said triumphantly, fishing a scrap of cloth out of the drain above. “I don’t know what possesses people to put these things down drains, but I’ve found some odd stuff down here.”

Travis reattached the trap. “Did you see how that worked? The most important thing is not to yank on it too hard. With a wrench and shifter strength, you can deform the pipe before you unscrew it if you aren’t careful.”

Wrench grunted an affirmative as Travis emerged from beneath the sink, wiping his hands.

“Let’s give it a test drive,” he said, and Wrench flipped the tap open.

Water poured cleanly down the drain without so much as a gurgle of protest.

Wrench wondered if the job always felt so rewarding; he had worked a long time in the shadowy persuasion business, and as well as it paid, it had never felt as victorious as any single repair he’d done with Travis.

“That did it!” Travis said with clear satisfaction.

As messy as it could be, this was clean work, and Wrench felt more fulfilled than he had in a lifetime of building a reputation for retribution and destruction.

“That’s our last job for the day,” Travis said putting the last of the tools back in their place. “You’ve got a few hours of daylight left if you want to hit the beach for a swim or something.”

Wrench raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “I ain’t a swimmer,” he said, picking up the toolbox before Travis could. He had done little enough of this job as it was. “But I was thinking…”

He paused, hesitant to continue, and Travis closed up the under sink cabinet and then looked at him curiously. “Spit it out, man!”

“There’s a lot of broken roof tiles from the storm we’re just going to piss away.”

“Not much you can do with them,” Travis shrugged. “You can’t really repair them.”

“You could… break em more.” That wasn’t too bad, Wrench thought. He was good at breaking things.

“And then?” Travis prompted as they closed up the cottage behind them and started hiking up to the mechanical room where Travis kept his tools.

“They’d make a nice… art piece. Like those things with tiny tiles that make a picture.”

Travis blinked. “A mosaic?”

“Sure,” Wrench shrugged. “It’s just an idea.”

“Well, yeah,” Travis agreed thoughtfully. “You could just press it into wet thinset over stucco if the pieces were small enough. You got a picture in mind?”

“I dunno,” Wrench growled, embarrassed. “Like a flower or a butterfly or something. They’re kinda orange.”

Travis did an admirable but insufficient job of hiding his amusement. “Yeah, we could do that,” he agreed.

“It’s something I could do,” Wrench said off-handedly. “Wouldn’t take more of your time.”

“You ever done anything like that before?” Travis asked candidly.

“Nah,” Wrench admitted, scowling. He was regretting voicing the idea.

“Let’s do a little piece of the courtyard behind the spa, see how it goes, before we do it anywhere lots of people will see it. Pretty much only Lydia uses that space.”

Wrench grunted, happier with Travis’ agreement than he wanted to admit. “I could do that now,” he suggested. “I ain’t got anything else going on.”

Travis’s thoughts were clearly off somewhere else. Wrench looked up along the resort above them and saw one of the twins waving from the deck above. That would be Travis’s mate Jenny, by his distracted grin and return wave. “Sure,” Travis said. “Knock yourself out. The ratio of water for the thinset is on the bag. Use one of the gray buckets.”

“Got it, boss,” Wrench said automatically.

“Not your boss, Wrench,” Travis reminded him as Jenny disappeared above them. “I’m just showing you the ropes.”

“Well, I’m real grateful for your helping me get this work,” Wrench said gruffly. “Especially after that, er, professional misunderstanding.”

He had been hired to bring Jenny’s twin sister Laura back to the cartel in Los Angeles, but had mistakenly taken Jenny instead. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d been convinced to turn on his employers for a plea bargain, but he felt like for the first time in a long time, his life had some sort of real potential.

The biggest problem he had working here at this tropical resort was the island time they seemed to be on, with long periods of leisure that didn’t fit with his need to be constantly busy. He didn’t want the time to think about the pending court date, and he had no interest in the luxury beach entertainment the resort offered.

Travis punched him in the shoulder and Wrench had to hold himself back from turning and pounding him into the ground in return. “You’ve been a great help,” the lynx shifter said merrily. “And you say probably twice as much as Graham does.”

Wrench grunted.

“There’s that chatty nature,” Travis teased.

Jenny skipped down the stairs towards them. “Scarlet is thinking about having an impromptu beach bonfire tonight, if you think the storm downed wood has dried out in the sun long enough.”

“Will you dance around it nude?” Travis asked with a grin.

“Keep dreaming,” Jenny told him, but she was smirking in return.

Knowing that they were aware only of each other now, Wrench left them without further comment.

* * *

Lydia Moreno looked out the small window, down at the crinkly ocean and the island growing below. She was more excited about returning to Shifting Sands Resort than she had ever been before.

“Isn’t it lovely?” the little white-haired woman sitting next to her chirped, leaning over to look out the same window. “Have you ever seen such a gorgeous little island?”

“It’s more beautiful every time,” Lydia said with a gentle smile, sitting back so the woman could get the best view.

“Oh, you’ve been before?” the woman said with an appraising glance.

Lydia knew that to some rich white people, her simple clothing and strong Mexican accent didn’t make her seem like someone with the kind of cash to travel multiple times to a luxurious tropical resort. “I work there,” she said without shame.

“Oh,” the woman said in return. Then she brightened so transparently it was almost painful. “What a gorgeous place to work!” she said with an overly friendly pat to Lydia’s knee. “My goodness, you must love it! Tell me what you do!”

Lydia smiled, not fooled by the woman’s gushing; she had placed Lydia in a second-class box in her head and was trying too hard to be nice so she wouldn’t feel racist. “I run the spa,” she said proudly. “I also teach salsa and do many of the meditation and yoga classes.”

“I simply must take your classes,” the woman said too eagerly. “What do you like most about your work?”

“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.  

They were an equal mix of patiently enjoying the tropical view and feeling slighted that they were having to wait.

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. 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, she could wait a little longer. She knew that her spa would soon be busy with all the new arrivals and duty called first...

* * *

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