“No tree?” I looked around the dark but comfortable living room. We’d only been at Norm’s place for a few minutes, and I was belatedly taking in the place.

“Why should I have a tree?” He paused on his way over to me with two glasses of red wine in his hands.

“You don’t put up a Christmas tree? Ryder does.” It wasn’t as if I was Mrs. Christmas. I had an artificial tree I’d been tempted to leave in the basement this year, but Norm’s house needed a tree. It would take the cozy factor up a whole lot of notches.

He stared down at the wine as if it held the answer. “Ryder never put up a tree before Alex.”

“Do shifters not decorate for the holidays?” I was done caring if I sounded uneducated about shifters. It was better than making assumptions that might be wrong.

“Some do. Some don’t. That’s like asking if humans put up trees.”

“Oh sorry. I didn’t mean to imply...” I wasn’t even sure what I was implying, but it wasn’t good. Generalizations were dangerous things.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to be so careful about what you say around me.” His gentle smile put me at ease.

So of course instead of dropping the conversation, I pushed forward with it. “You have a great place for a tree. Over there by the stairs.” I pointed to where I’d put it. “You’d be able to see it from the front windows while sitting in the living room and on your way downstairs. It’s perfect.”

“Duly noted.” His smile grew larger.

“I think white lights would look especially nice.”

He was outright grinning now.

“What?” A hint of self-consciousness crept over me. I’d gotten much better at not caring about what people thought of me, but I cared about what Norm thought of me, whether I liked it or not.

“You are decorating my nonexistent Christmas tree.”

“So?” I looked back at the empty spot. “I’m trying to distract myself. Besides, you don’t have to let me stay with you.” Despite my claim, I pulled my legs up under me on his huge black couch. I wasn’t the only one getting comfortable. Remington snored on the other side of the couch. He lay with his belly up, which meant he felt safe. Cats were supposed to be cautious of new environments, but not Remington. He’d been more than happy to take the trip with us. I’d been afraid if anyone came back looking for me they’d hurt him. Norm had been perfectly fine with the cat joining us. He was earning points with me left and right, not that he needed to be earning points. He was helping me through a crisis, not trying to date me.

“Where else would you stay?” Norm set a glass of the red wine down on the end table beside me.

“At Alex and Ryder’s.” The suggestion was a weak one, but I couldn’t accept his generosity without at least offering to leave. I liked having outs, and I figured he did too.

“But they are away.” He sat down in a recliner with his own glass of wine.

“So?” I sipped the full-bodied red wine. A Cab. My favorite.

“You can’t stay alone until we have this taken care of.” There was nothing pushy about his words. They were matter of fact. I didn’t have a death wish, especially not when I was likely one step closer to learning about my mother’s disappearance.

“You really think we are going to get this taken care of?” I was losing hope, even though I was doing everything possible to stay positive. I thought we were on to something with the mountain lion, but I didn’t trust him. If he knew my mom was missing, he might have just been trying to lure me in.

“Yes. I’m not stopping until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Why?” I lifted my arms so Remington could climb onto my lap.

“For several reasons. But my reasons don’t matter.”

“Of course they matter. How can you say they don’t?” I petted Remington’s head, letting his purring relax me.

“Because I’m doing it.”

“Tell me.” I set down my wine. “You could be off skiing. Why are you here?”

“Why I’m here in town is a different answer than why I’m helping you.”

I picked up my wine again. “Oh?” I took another slow sip. I loved wine, but I rarely opened any at home.

“Yes. You really want to know why I’m helping you?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” I scratched Remington behind his ears.

He leaned forward in his seat. “Because I care.”

“Care about?” I leaned back too quickly, and Remington leaped from my lap.

“You. And you know it.”

“I know it?” I looked around for a sign of Remington, but he must have left the room. For a moment I considered using his leaving as an excuse to exit the conversation, but I quickly brushed that thought away. This wasn’t the kind of conversation that was just going to disappear.

“You were part of that kiss as much as I was.” He stared right at my lips, and I could feel heat spreading throughout me as I remembered the sparks, the intensity, the need it built deep inside me.

“Norm…” I wasn’t ready to go there, to face all those feelings I had pushed aside.

“What? We’ve never talked about it. But we should.” He set down his wine glass.

“Why? Why bring it up when there are so many other things going on?” I felt the familiar wash of fear creeping over me. It wasn’t fear of Norm, but of what might happen afterward. Of how I might feel when he was no longer in my life. Or if he was in my life. There were so many variables, so many questions I couldn’t hope to answer.

“I’m not the one who brought it up. Am I?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes you are.” I pulled my knees up to my chest.

“Only after you asked why I care.” His words were so soft they were like a caress. I’d seen Norm when he was angry, and it was hard to believe that same guy had such a gentle side. But he did. Underneath his tall, muscular exterior there was someone so different.

“You could have made something up.” I would have made something up.

“Why would I make something up? What’s wrong with the truth?”

“The truth can be scary.” Terrifying.

“Just because something is frightening doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“But it could be.” I resisted the pull to look down, fully aware of how juvenile I sounded.

“How would you know unless you tried?” His brown eyes were so warm. They pulled me in like fire on a cold day.

“Tried what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Norm…” I could barely concentrate with his eyes boring into mine.

“You like saying my name.” He smiled.

I felt blood rushing to my face. “You like to fluster me.”

He shook his head. “No, I like you. Period.”

“I like you too, but—”

“But? What possible excuse could you have?”

“That doesn’t mean we need to go down this path. We’ll both be happier if we keep things platonic between us.”

“And why would we be happier that way?” He stood and walked toward me.

“You know.” I struggled to come up with an excuse that didn’t go back to my own fears.

“No. I don’t know. Please explain.” He sat down beside me.

“Norm…”

“There you go again,” he teased. I could tell it was teasing. His eyes were light. “I’m not pushing anything. But would it hurt to talk about it? We are going to be spending more time together.”

“Just for a few more days.”

“You plan on ditching me after the ball?” This time his tone wasn’t teasing.

“You have your own life.”

“And I want to be in yours.”

His words seared me, pushing through the wall I’d carefully built up around myself since my mom disappeared. “I’m afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Of us.” I looked down at my feet. I was wearing snowflake socks. At least I’d chosen festive apparel.

“That’s why you left? After the kiss?”

“Why did you think I left?” I risked looking up, and his eyes caught mine. Once again I was incapable of looking away.

He scooted closer to me. “There were several theories.”

“So now you know.”

“Are you still afraid now?” His voice was low.

“Yes.” I’d already admitted enough. There was no reason to hide anymore.

“I’m not.” He put a hand over where mine rested on the couch.

“What do you want?” I slid my legs down and turned sideways.

“I want to know if underneath that fear there’s anything else.” He wrapped his hand around mine.

“I already admitted I like you.” I had somehow let that admission slip out.

“But what does that mean?”

“It means I wish I was brave enough to kiss you.” I closed my eyes, willing away the embarrassment. I couldn’t blame alcohol. I’d only had a few sips of wine. It was stress. That was it. This was stress induced craziness.

Before I could think on it long, his warm lips met mine. I opened my eyes in surprise, but I quickly closed them again, savoring his taste that was at once exciting and familiar. The sparks were still there, and if anything, they were even more intense.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me close. I slipped my hand underneath his t-shirt, running my hands over the muscular planes of his chest. He cradled my head with one hand while holding me tight with his other. His lips left mine before moving down to my neck.

I gasped as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of my neck. His hand slipped just underneath the hem of my sweater. His fingers brushed over my skin while his tongue followed the path his teeth had just made. I grabbed his hand that was still just underneath my sweater and pulled it up to cup my breast through my bra.

I kept my eyes closed, moaning as his hand moved underneath my bra. His fingers teased my nipple as he nipped at my neck again.

I reached down for his belt buckle, awkwardly unbuckling it while trying to enjoy every sensation of his lips and hand. I moved on to his button, slipping my hand inside his pants, surprised he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I took him in my hand.

His hand moved to the button of my jeans, and I took in a breath as he slid his hand inside my jeans. He ran his hand over my underwear, teasing me as I waited for him to slip his fingers underneath the fabric.

He didn’t. He pulled his hand out and carefully offset my hand from him.

I opened my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes were lidded. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because things can’t go any further.”

“Why not?” I fought back hot tears of embarrassment that begged to fall.

“Because this can’t happen until I’ve taken you on a proper date.”

“Who are you?” I straightened out my sweater, relieved he wasn’t rejecting me, but frustrated he’d stopped just when things were getting hot.

“I’d have hoped you would have known that before you put your hand in my pants.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all, Nancy.” He re-did his buckle. “Not at all.”