The Shifter Romances The Writer

“There’s a bonus?” Roxy couldn’t imagine what else there could be. “Wait. Is there a pool? A hot tub? A koi pond?”

Pandora just crooked her finger. “Follow me.”

Roxy did. Right out the rear sliding doors onto a big bricked patio, which definitely had enough space for a hot tub if she ever decided to pull the trigger on that purchase. The entire backyard was fenced in, like a lot of the yards in the neighborhood, and was a large, lovely green space.

But she saw immediately what Pandora had been talking about. A two-story outbuilding sat at the rear corner of the property. It had cedar shingles, round windows, gingerbread trim and an exaggerated peaked door to match its roof. Roxy tipped her head. “Okay, that’s interesting. And cute. But what is it exactly?”

Pandora looked up at the structure. “The owners had two girls who desperately wanted a tree house, but as you can see the two trees in this yard wouldn’t support that sort of building. So their dad had this designed for them as a playhouse, but it’s really so much more. It has electric and its own heat and air unit. I thought it might be something you could use as a writer’s retreat. Or even a guest room if you had some of your writing friends visit like you said you might.”

“Can I go in?”

“Absolutely.” Pandora handed her a key. “Take a look. See what you think.”

Roxy walked back to the building on the flagstone path, unlocked the door and stepped inside. Her first thought was fairy house. Sunlight spilled through the portal windows and a large skylight overhead. There was plenty of space for a pull-out sofa, an easy chair, a small fridge and coffee maker—all the comforts a writer might need.

A spiral staircase led to the second floor. She went up and had a look. Long transom windows on either side opened to let in light and air. She could stand up at the peak of the roof with about a foot of space overhead. It wouldn’t be too hard to get one of those memory foam mattresses up here and turn this loft into a sleeping area. That would be pretty cool.

She could totally see herself writing in this magical little place when the confines of her office got to be too monotonous. And possibly napping in this loft.

And it could definitely serve as another place to house a guest when she invited her writer friends in for a retreat, something she’d been desperate to do but her ex had never allowed. She could hang some light strings, stock the fridge with wine and snacks. It would be perfect.

Pandora had knocked it out of the park with this house.

Roxy came down from the loft and walked back to Pandora on the patio, smiling the whole way. “I love it.”

“I thought you would. There’s still the garage to look at. Not that exciting, but you should have a look at the whole place before you make an offer. Sound good?”

“Yes.” But Roxy didn’t need to see any more to know she’d finally found home.

“Mom. Mom. Mom.” Alex Cruz sighed and flattened his hand over his forehead. His mother continued on in a mix of English and Spanish, but he didn’t need to hear every word to know what she was talking about. Because it was the same conversation they’d been having for the last five years.

“I’m not getting any younger, Alex. I want grandbabies while I can enjoy them. I want to know that my only son has found a good woman to take care of him when I die.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mom. I’m not your only son. Remember my brother, Diego? Your other son?” Granted, Diego as a father was a sobering thought, but if either of them was going to give Carmen Cruz grandchildren, it was probably Diego. And sadly, those grandchildren would probably not be planned.

Sort of shocking that Diego hadn’t ended up with a few kids already.

“Eh, Diego will never settle down.”

“He is living with a girl.”

“At least he’s doing that much.” Carmen Cruz made an exhausted noise. “But the only time he hasn’t lived with a girl is when he was in the Marines. That means nothing.”

“True.” Diego went through women like a frat boy went through shots. “Also, you’re fifty-nine. Death is a long way off.”

“You don’t know that.”

Deputy Blythe walked past Alex and crinkled up her face as she mouthed the question, “Mom?”

He nodded at his fellow officer, and she shook her head in sympathy. Everyone he worked with at the station knew what this conversation was about.

“I do know that, Mom. We’re shifters. We live a long time.”

“Then what if something happens to you? Your job is very dangerous.”

“Besides the fact that we heal faster than humans and are much harder to kill, Nocturne Falls is about the least dangerous place a cop can work. Nothing is going to happen to me in this town. I give a few tickets, I arrest the occasional drunk and disorderly. Sometimes I divert parade traffic. Nothing remotely dangerous.”

“You could be shot.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes, I could be. I could also be swept up in a tornado or get food poisoning. My chances of any of those are all about the same.” Which was unfortunate, because either one would be preferable to this conversation.

“Now you’re just mocking me. Why are you such a bad son? Why do you want me to be unhappy? Wolfgang Blackborne would never treat his mother this way. If he had a mother. Which he doesn’t because she was burned at the stake for being a witch.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut harder. Ever since his mother’s favorite telenovela had been canceled, she’d gotten hooked on romance novels. She talked about the characters like they were real. He was glad she’d found something to be passionate about, but he couldn’t keep up. “Pretty sure that guy is fictional, Mom.”