Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T here was nothing like a wave of customers doing their holiday shopping at the last minute. The humans had presents to buy for their various religious celebrations, and Daonain were looking for Solstice gifts.

Good for the bank account, Moya thought, however…

By the Gods, my legs and back hurt. Thank goodness closing is in another twenty minutes.

Across the building, Talitha and Fell were beginning the closing down of the coffee bar.

A few minutes ago, Patrin bought a coffee. At a table with his laptop, he was working on something called an after-action report.

Seizing a moment to get off her aching feet, Moya picked up her guitar and sat down near the children's corner. Lightly strumming the strings along with the music from the speakers, she watched Alana's two adorable cubs build block houses. The two-year-olds were all big eyes and giggles, especially when a building fell down.

Over in the book section, Alana was humming along with the music.

Wasn't it nice to hear her friend so happy? A couple of years ago, Moya had pushed Ramón to hire females on his crew. To his surprise, Alana ended up being one of his best woodworkers. Since then, she'd found her mates in his crew, and now they took turns staying home with the cubs.

"Hey, I found a Roman architecture book Jalen will love and one with crochet designs for Jarlath." Alana joined Moya and cast a loving look at her cubs. "Thanks for watching them. They move too fast to be unsupervised for even a minute."

"They're so fun. I think they inherited your building genes."

"Or Jalen's. He loves designing houses." Alana rolled her eyes. "Hopefully, neither inherited Jarlath's need to be up high." Alana's second mate was a cat shifter and did all the high construction and roofing.

"By the Mother." Moya shuddered, remembering the hazardous games she and her littermates had played on the ground . "It must be terrifying to raise werecat cubs."

"I know, right? If they turn out to be cats, neither Jalen nor I will be able to follow them into the trees."

"Well, I bet Bron and Niall get a kick out of chasing younglings through the tree canopy."

"Werecat cahirs. Yes, they probably do." Alana's smile faded. "Moya, are we going to end up in a war between our cat-hating alpha and the Chief of Police?"

"Brett would be crazy to take on Bron, let alone Niall."

"He would, but sometimes I think he is crazy." Alana fidgeted with the book in her lap. "He wants wolves—even cubs—to attack cat shifters. At the construction site, he pushed Terence and Killian to attack Jarlath. And they almost did."

"What?" An ugly feeling grew in Moya's belly. "They've been friends for years."

"I know. Yet Terence and Killian had their fists up and started for Jarlath. Zorion saw and yelled at them, and they stopped—and then were shocked at themselves. It was like they were hypnotized or something."

"Or something." Bitterness made her words ugly. "Brett is using the pack bonds to push wolves to attack. They don't realize what he's doing."

Alana's face paled. "That's just wrong."

"It is." What could she—or anyone—do about it? No wolf was both willing and strong enough to take over the pack. Brett sure wouldn't leave without a fight.

Just then, a cub knocked over the block house, and his littermate yelled and jumped on him. The two rolled over and over in a good tussle.

So cute…at least when they were two.

"I'd better get them home for quiet time." Alana handed Moya her books and went to separate her boys.

After a quick checkout, Alana and cubs headed out the door to the square.

Moya looked around. Everyone in town knew the coffee and bookstore hours, so the place had emptied out. Only Patrin remained at his table.

When he met her gaze with his mouth set in a grim line, she realized he'd heard her and Alana talking.

Before she could join him, the three dangling bells over the door tinkled merrily. Talitha must have switched the single bell out, wanting something festive for Yuletide.

Two dwarves entered. Just under five feet tall with bushy hair and long curly beards, they wore fur-lined leather jackets, wool pants, and heavy boots. They headed straight for the coffee bar.

Seeing Fell and Patrin staring, Moya grinned. They might have never seen a dwarf before. The reclusive race visited few villages, although they apparently visited the Wild Hunt tavern for the beer.

A couple of years ago, dwarves from the local Rainier hold had discovered Talitha's extra-strong espresso and now visited frequently during the winter.

After getting their drinks, they walked across to her bookstore.

Moya rose and bowed slightly. "Welcome, Brimir and Vakr. Fair Yuletide to you."

"And to you, young Moya." Brimir's name meant loud one —and his thunderous voice bore that out. "What diversions have you in your hoard?"

"Oh, so many." When they first started visiting the coffee shop, a few had wandered into her bookstore. Since then, she'd done her best to keep stocked with their favorite entertainments. "Puzzles first?"

Vakr smoothed his beard. "Já."

They'd deemed conventional cardboard puzzles too flimsy. When she acquired some artisan-made, wooden jigsaw puzzles, they were hooked.

Pulling down a variety of the 500 and 1000 piece ones, she set the puzzles on a table for them to peruse.

Vakr immediately set his hand on the box with a colorful mandala of the tree of life.

Ha, score. She knew that one would get them.

With a happy grunt, Brimir picked up a wooden puzzle with a picture of what she'd discovered was their secret weakness.

Kittens.

Dwarves were fearsome in aspect, terrifying in battle…and adored baby animals.

Don't laugh, don't laugh.

After piling their selections on her checkout desk, she took them to the adult toy section…and motioned to the Lego set for a castle.

When Vakr chortled and grabbed the box, she grinned.

I am brilliant, yes, I am.

For payment, Vakr handed her a gold cube. The dwarves carried currency for inexpensive items like coffee, but at her store, they usually spent a couple of hundred dollars or more, so she now accepted gold.

They never underpaid.

Since they appreciated traditional courtesies, she escorted them to the door.

Stopping there, Brimir looked behind her at Patrin, then Fell. His voice boomed across the almost empty room. "Superior steel is indeed forged by the hottest flame. I see you found worthy males to mate, young Moya."

Her cheeks heated. "No, no, they're just my neighbors."

The dwarf huffed. "You Daonain. Gifted with enhanced senses yet so blind."

"No, Brimir. Hastening the quenching yields a brittle blade." Vakr stroked his beard as he eyed Patrin. "Patience, even caution, is required. Be not dismayed, lass. We will observe and advise you as needed."

Her mouth dropped open. Because there wasn't even a speck of humor in their faces. "Um, thank you for your…interest. But I can?—"

There were no words. She bowed slightly, hoping they'd just leave now.

Behind the coffee counter, Talitha was laughing like one of those African hyenas.

Entering the shop, Heather stopped and smiled. "Brimir and Vakr, a warm and happy Solstice to you."

After an exchange of bows and greetings for the Cosantir's mate, the dwarves left.

"Hey, girl." Heather gave Moya a big hug, then called, "Talitha, can I borrow Fell?"

"Sure." Talitha smiled at Fell. "It's almost closing. You can be done. Can you set the door sign to closed?"

"Aye, and thank you."

After turning the sign on the door, he raised his eyebrows at Heather.

"Let's talk," Heather said. "May I join you, Patrin?"

"Sure, Heather." Patrin grinned at having been caught listening. Again. But, hey, who could blame him? Watching Moya with the dwarves was incomparable entertainment.

Although hearing him and Fell considered possible mates for Moya? The idea had him tripping over his paws—yet it was now stuck in his mind like pine tree sap.

He rose and pulled out a chair for the Cosantir's mate. "Please…"

She sat and motioned Fell to take the chair beside her.

Back at her bookstore desk, Moya looked as if she was working on her end-of-the-day bookkeeping. No one who knew her would believe it.

He waited until she looked over, then winked at her. It was oddly pleasing she cared enough to stay within hearing distance.

Besides, fair was fair; he had been listening to her and the dwarves.

With a rueful but unapologetic smile at being caught, she bent to her work again.

"What's up, Heather?" Patrin asked, closing his laptop.

"André is still angry and doesn't want to take it out on you, so he sent me," she said in her delightfully straightforward way.

Fell winced.

"Because if a Cosantir is too annoyed, the God might step in and squash us like ants?" Patrin asked.

She half-laughed. "Yes, exactly. It seems Herne surprised him last night."

Patrin exchanged glances with Fell. Moya had been right. The demand for reciprocity had been the God sticking his muzzle in. "I see. In that case, we're happy it's you here today." He smiled at her snort. "What can we do for you?"

"André plans to talk to you in a few days, but meantime, he'd like you to think about what you want to do here."

"We have jobs."

"Oh, please ." The sarcastic tone highlighted her impatience. "Barista and bartender aren't exactly career choices. My mates and I were surprised at your minimum-wage choices, but after last night, we realized you deliberately chose the most visible jobs."

By the God, the Cosantir and his mates were more perceptive than he and Fell had anticipated.

"Good thing they don't work for the Scythe," Patrin muttered to his brother, and Fell laughed quietly.

Heather grinned. "None of us think your current work will satisfy your souls. What do you want to do?"

Patrin had no answer for her.

Fell appeared equally stumped.

"This is a big territory. Think about it." She patted Patrin's hand, smiled at Fell, and waved at Talitha and Moya as she walked out.

"Unexpected," Fell said.

"Just a mite, yeah. It appears André really does expect us to stay." Patrin leaned back in his chair. "She was right. I don't want to be a bartender, not as a full-time job."

"Same." Fell thrummed his fingers on the tabletop. "I'd go fucking crazy stuck in an office."

Patrin grinned. "You're going fucking crazy working inside in a coffee shop."

"We lack skills, brawd."

They hadn't lied to Talitha when applying for a position. They were unprepared for white-collar work. "Yeah, I know."

What could males who were good at fighting do? Being in law enforcement appealed, but after the mess last night, the Chief of Police sure wouldn't hire them.

"There are outside jobs, you know." Moya walked over and joined them. "Like with lumber companies, the forest service, or landscaping companies. You could work for my brothers in construction. Brett and Caleb repair trails during the summer. Tanner and Daniel—Heather's brothers—employ ranch-hands. There are also hunting and hiking guide services."

Patrin let out a breath, feeling as if the world was opening up.

A law enforcement job was still his preference. Rather than killing humans, he could protect and give back to the clan. But the others sounded interesting too. "Thanks, Moya. I wasn't coming up with anything."

"Never figured on having a future," Fell murmured.

From the way Moya's face paled, Fell's comment had been audible—and appalling. "Gods, you two." Bending down, she hugged him from behind, and her big eyes were damp.

She cares. About us.

Could something that made him feel so good be wrong?