Page 4

My beast urged me to get inside. You put your left foot first and then your right foot next, he sang, adapting the words from a song the girls repeated until I wished they had an off switch.

I crossed the yard, ignoring the workshop with the day’s dust hanging in the air. No one set foot there but me because I had no apprentices. Just a man, his chisel, a lot of stone, and occasionally the girls when I allowed them.

And now one lone human had pranced into my house, leaving his scent on the doormat and in the walls, and upended my life. I checked my watch again but only 120 seconds had been cut from the total.

“This is your room.” That was Ivy’s voice coming from the kitchen, but the guest suite, like all the bedrooms, was on the second floor.

“Great. I fit in between the cans of corned beef and the salami. And the beef jerky will make the perfect pillow because I can nibble on it when I get hungry.”

Ivy was at the pantry entrance as River tossed his bag inside. Wren was peering around the doorway while Poppy had her arms crossed. There was a collective gasp from my three children as River’s voice drifted out from the room lined with tinned pâté, bone broth, and prosciutto among other meaty products.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I hid a smile at River, unzipping his bag and placing a framed photo on a shelf between the hot dogs in brine and the potted meat.

“That always worked before,” Wren whispered to her sisters.

“What was that?” River put a hand to his ear. “Oh, this isn’t my room? What a shame. It has a certain meaty charm.”

“Let’s show River his real room.”

Instead of racing up the stairs, my daughters plodded up wearing downcast expressions, and I followed, avoiding the squeaky step that I kept forgetting to fix. That was two nil in River’s favor, though by the time they reached the second floor the girls appeared to have forgotten their defeat and showed him how sturdy his bed was by removing their shoes and jumping on the mattress.

Without asking my permission, our new manny tossed off his sneakers and joined them. They all held hands and the bed springs complained, but I wasn’t about to interrupt their fun and bonding. At least I thought that was what they were doing. Unlike many siblings of different ages, my three had this unspoken language, often shared by siblings who’d come from one egg and shared a womb.

“Daddy, come on.” Wren beckoned me.

“But I’m dirty from work.”

“Ahhh, what’s a bit of dirt.” River grinned. “I don’t mind my bedding infused with your smell.”

What? He was going to sleep with part of me both over and under him? If sweating wasn’t a rarity for me, I’d surely be doing a lot of it right now.

I’d left my boots at the front door because I usually entered the house after work from the back and put them in the mudroom. But I was much bigger than the girls and taller than River, and I was wary about either the bed breaking, them toppling over, or all of us falling into a heap. I put one foot on the mattress, but River let go of Ivy’s hand and hauled me up.

“Come on, Dad.” River was smiling as he addressed me, and the girls giggled when he called me Dad, making me sound old and decrepit. “You’ve still got some bounce in you.”

With one hand in River’s and the other in Wren’s, I made tiny jumps and marveled at how the warmth in our manny’s hand matched mine. I took in the childlike joy on his face. This could be so easy, me letting go and imagining River and me building a life together and making an inter-species relationship work.

But those were dangerous thoughts. River was human and didn’t know shifters existed. A life with me meant telling him what we were and hoping he didn’t run. I told myself the danger was to the girls, that their happiness came first. But that was an easy excuse. My heart was in danger of breaking if I told him the truth or if I let him leave after his contract finished. I made a choice to say nothing. River was our manny, nothing more.

“Aren’t… you… hot… River?” Ivy’s words were interrupted by each bounce.

The house was many degrees warmer than was acceptable to humans, so I was ready for his answer.

“Well, some people have called me hot.” His grin could only be described as wicked. Damn him. Those looks shouldn’t be allowed around my children. “But no, not particularly. Should I be?”

“Most humans are.” That was Poppy. She may have been only six, but she and her sisters were aware they didn’t use that word around, well, humans.

“We are warm-blooded, so that makes sense. Unlike cold-blooded animals such as snakes, lizards, and let me think, ummm, oh right, dragons.” River hissed—was he pretending to be a dragon?—and made a weird face, and then he giggled.

My children and I stopped jumping. As we stood on the bed, with our feet making deep indentations, the girls looked at each other and then to me. What did this guy know? Had he discovered shifters existed?

“Dragons aren’t cold-blooded.” Poppy’s cold, even tone matched her expression.

River looked around the circle. He was the only one still bouncing. “Oh, maybe you’re right. I’ve never met one, but when I do, I’ll get back to you.”

I let out a breath and told the girls to watch TV in the family room.

“I’ll let you get settled. Come down at six and you can help me prepare dinner.”