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Damien was pleased that Tawny looked so flustered at his arrival with Trevor, and even more pleased when she accepted his quick, no-nonsense kiss.
He resisted the temptation to turn it into more and gave her the bracelet he’d picked out for her instead.
Her reaction to it was rather less than he’d hoped.
She looked more stunned than flattered, and the gushing delight he’d expected was sadly missing. Her gratitude felt forced, and her smile looked strained. Damien frowned, wondering where the gift had gone wrong.
He strode to claim the most comfortable looking chair in the living room, casting a glance around for one of Tawny’s elusive cats. He had stopped at the little grocery store in town and found a bag of cat treats that assured him that it would win any feline.
He had opened it skeptically, and almost eaten it himself on the spot.
He couldn’t fail to win over Tawny’s aloof housemates so armed.
“Have you been practicing your intervals, Trevor?” Tawny asked.
“Yeah,” the boy said reluctantly, squirming on the bench.
“Then we’ll have good fun today,” Tawny said encouragingly. She took a seat beside him on the piano bench.
She started him doing a simple scale up and down the piano, correcting his posture and hand position gently. “That’s good,” she said approvingly. “Now we’re going to play a game, since you practiced.”
Damien’s phone rang and he apologized as he turned it off, noting that he had missed several other calls.
Tawny made Trevor cover his eyes and guess the intervals she played, then let him quiz her in return. Finally, Trevor played from a simple page of music, slowly and stuttering, with no sense of rhythm whatsoever.
“Excellent work!” Tawny encouraged him kindly. “Keep practicing this one, remember to count, and we’ll have it ready for the fall recital.”
“I don’t want to do a recital,” Trevor complained.
Damien cleared his throat, and earned a sulky look over the little boy’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Trevor agreed reluctantly.
“Take a treat on your way out,” Tawny reminded him. She folded up his notebook and music for him and stood up as Damien rose to his feet.
Trevor scrambled over the bench and bolted for the door, sensing freedom.
He paused at the gate when Damien waited for Tawny as she locked her front door.
“Miss Tawny’s coming with us?” he asked in confusion.
“Your grandfather asked me to show him around Green Valley,” Tawny said easily, tucking her keys into her purse. She looked serene and unruffled, but Damien, watching her, was keenly aware of the color in her cheeks, and the way she shyly didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Let’s show him the playground!” Trevor said enthusiastically. “He can push me on the swings!”
Damien offered his elbow to Tawny. “This is Miss Tawny’s tour,” he said firmly to Trevor.
Tawny tucked her arm into the offered elbow, the touch of her hand sending a wave of warmth through Damien.
She smiled at Trevor peacefully. “The playground is as good a place to start as any.”
Trevor led the way, pelting down the sidewalk ahead of them.
Spring sunshine beat down on the wide streets, dappling through scattered trees.
“Do you have plans for the afternoon?” Damien asked.
“I was hoping to get my starts transplanted today,” Tawny said. “It’s a little early, but the forecast looks warm, so hopefully we’re passed the frost risk.”
Damien nodded sagely. “A little early, I suppose,” he agreed gravely.
“You haven’t got the faintest interest in gardening,” Tawny guessed.
“I like some of the things that come out of gardens,” Damien offered in return.
“What do you do for fun?” Tawny asked him.
Damien blinked at her. “I like fishing,” he told her.
Tawny’s face suggested it was not an interest that they shared.
“Do you like reading?” she attempted.
“A little,” Damien agreed, thinking of the crowded bookshelves that had lined Tawny’s house. “I enjoy a good mystery.”
“Agatha?” Tawny said hopefully.
“Grisham,” Damien countered.
“Ah,” Tawny said. “I like lighter work, but I’ve read a few of his. A Time to Kill was excellent.”
They chatted about books for a while as they walked. “You should drop in at our book club,” she suggested slyly. “We meet Monday evenings, and our book this week is Farenheit 451.”
To his own surprise, Damien did not immediately come up with an excuse not to attend. “I would love to,” he said instead. “I haven’t read it since high school, but I’m sure I could get an ebook copy of it and brush up.”
Tawny seemed to take pity on him. “You don’t have to come to my book club. It’s a bunch of crotchety old ladies who mostly share local gossip and swap casserole recipes. We’re honestly lucky if we talk about the book at all.”
“I am in dreadful need of more casserole recipes,” Damien said with a straight face. “Though I’m pretty sure that most of the local gossip is about me this week, dumping a plate of food on you and making a kid cry.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Tawny teased him back. “Marta’s cousin had a mole removed this week. That might trump the crying child and meatball stain.”
“Hmm,” Damien said thoughtfully. “I see the bar is high. Next time I’ll have to dump an entire soup tureen on you.”
“Please don’t,” Tawny said, laughing.
“Hurry uuuuuup!” Trevor called, nearly a block away.
“Wait at the intersection!” Tawny told him in return.
Not that there was traffic to worry about. There were a few cars parked in driveways and at curbs, and Damien could hear a vehicle somewhere a few blocks away, but for the most part, the town was quiet.
They caught up with Trevor at the corner and he took Damien’s hand and all but dragged them across.
“That’s the post office,” Tawny pointed out with a smile. “The playground is just past it, between the Catholic church and the grocery store.”
Across the intersection, Trevor let go of Damien’s hand and went streaking ahead. The sound of children playing could be heard just past the little gray post office.
“Do you miss it?”
“The Post Office?” Tawny confirmed. “Not a bit. I should get together for coffee with Johanna one of these days, because she was a great boss, but I’m not sorry to have my days to myself again. And it hasn’t exactly been boring,” she added, giving Damien a sideways glance.
“I keep threatening to retire,” Damien said thoughtfully as they came around the backside of the post office and the playground opened up in front of them. Trevor was already on the other side of the field, flinging himself, belly first, over a swing.
“What would you do?” Tawny asked as they wandered across the field, weaving among big, colorfully painted tractor tires that a handful of kids were playing chase in.
Damien gave her a sideways look. “Move to the country, maybe. Attend book clubs and learn to garden.”
She met his eyes, her own face thoughtful and curious, but didn’t say anything.
“Cooooooome push me!” Trevor begged.
Tawny took her hand from Damien’s elbow—reluctantly, Damien thought with triumph—and went to sit in the swing next to Trevor.
Damien took off his jacket, sorry that Tawny’s back was to him, and reminded Trevor to sit straight and hold on as he drew back the swing.
He pushed the boy with a tiny fraction of his shifter strength, sending him flying up into the air with shrieks of laughter. He wasn’t worried about Trevor holding on. The little boy may not realize that he was a shifter yet, but he was already developing the supernatural strength that his inner lion gave him.
He didn’t want to give Trevor away by testing his limits too obviously, so he pushed just hard enough that the boy laughed in delight.