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“Oh, darling. Call me Gerri, please. I … like to help people. I’m a philanthropist, mostly. Occasionally, I’ve been called a matchmaker.” She grinned in a way that made it seem like it might be more often than not.
Mila nodded slowly. She couldn’t help but wonder just who Gerri might be meeting here and who she was trying to match.
“Mila, may I ask you a personal question?”
“Uh, sure. What’s up?” Mila flinched inwardly.
“Are you seeing anyone right now?” Again, Mila’s cheeks heated. It was getting so that she was almost used to feeling uncomfortably warm as she had spent most of their lunch in this state. She looked down at the table, unable to meet Gerri’s eyes.
“Well, no … I mean, the job doesn’t really lend itself to a dating life ….”
“I see. Have you ever considered dating a shifter?” Gerri winked.
“Oh.” It was the only noise she could make, temporarily speechless. Why did she say she was okay with personal questions? She was beginning to feel super self-conscious. “I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it, but I don’t really have an objection to the idea. I mean, it sounds kinda sexy,” she finally stammered.
Gerri let out a low chuckle. “Oh, it is.” Gerri winked. “Think you’d ever date a boss?”
What was she getting at? “Definitely not. I believe in professionalism in the workplace. There is some conflict of interest in engaging in that behavior.”
“Ah, yes, there can be.” Gerri nodded slowly, leaning back into her chair. “Well, I have a good feeling about this job opportunity for you, anyway. Things usually work out, one way or another.”
Mila got a strange vibe from Gerri, but she was still intrigued by the woman. Gerri and Mila finished their meal and exchanged phone numbers, with Gerri telling Mila she would give her a call in a couple hours with an update on their flight.
Mila found a hotel close to the airport to stay in for the night. She climbed into the oversized bed with the extra pillows and searched online for this Cyrus Bechtel. Regardless of the search terms she put in, there was very little to find.He must stay pretty far off the social media radar.
She did manage to find a couple of pictures, and her jaw dropped at the sight. This man wasfine.
His chiseled face was complemented by dark brown hair. His large frame was outlined well by the cut of his clothes, and she was certain she could make out defined muscles beneath them. She noticed that he didn’t smile … his face was set in stone in each of his photos.
She couldn’t help but notice that his dark eyes were actually a deep hazel. She got the impression of a gentle soul behind the gruff exterior.
She could not wait to see what tomorrow would hold for her. She sent another quick text to her sister to let her know she was safe in bed at her hotel, and then she dozed off to sleep.
TWO
CYRUS
The wind whipped around him as he picked up speed. Cyrus’s claws extended out as he launched himself faster through the woods, determined to release all of his tension. Eager to beat his top speed, he dug deep into the ground and pushed to his body’s fullest extent.
As he topped the crest of a tall hill at the edge of town, he finally slowed to let his body rest. His polar bear form was at peace in the early evening chill.
The air around him was crisp and sweet, ripe with familiarity and autumn scents. The rustic buildings in town, their chimneys puffing smoke, had begun to close up shop because everything here essentially shut down at dusk.
“No wonder people use this as their escape,” he murmured, always in awe of the nature around his home. The trees were various colors of green, red, and yellow, the sunlight bouncing off the leaves as the sun disappeared behind the mountains.
He loved hiking and running the trails up those mountains. He spent the winters snowboarding there with colleagues, and he spent the summers on the lake with his boat on the other side of them. What more could he ask for?
“Too bad I have to get back home,” he grumbled. With one last parting glance, he bounded homeward.
Cyrus Bechtel was the head of a large technology empire, which demanded a lot of his time, but he had chosen the little town of Ashland, Oregon, as his home base. The tech industry was a fast-paced, high-stress environment, so he had chosen Ashland as it offered rustic charm and relaxation for his team.
Plenty of room to run and enjoy nature. To uncage the beast within, to let him blow off steam.
With his shifter speed and stamina, it took very little time to make it through the forest and back to his house. As he rounded the last bend and broke through the trees, the ancient mansion loomed in the near distance, a picture of grace and elegance.
It was where he had grown up with both of his parents and now their memory was kept alive by him living there. Granted, most of Cyrus’s memories of his parents were watching them leaving the mansion or getting on their private jet, so it only made sense that he kept both.
“Mr. Bechtel,” the gardener greeted as he slowed before the house. All of the staff were used to this form and didn’t even bat an eye at him.
