A Shifter for New Years

by T. S. Joyce

  Burke grabbed one for her and one for him. Kimberly stared at the bubbling liquid and the fine champagne flute in her hand. She couldn’t afford to have her nails done, so she’d painted them herself last night in her home while she’d listened to Metallica. No one had insulted her taste in music or griped at her when she’d gotten a drop of red nail polish on the counter. She’d cleaned it up, not to keep the counter perfect, but because she cared about the home and wanted to take care of it. The paint on her nails was dinged and imperfect, just like her. The champagne flute was a stark contrast and didn’t seem to fit into her hand the way it used to.

  Burke was watching her. She could feel it, so she smiled up at him and bumped his shoulder. I’m okay. I’m more than okay.

  He slid his arm over her shoulder and kissed the side of her hair. It felt perfect and right. Of course, you are.

  Mom scurried up the stairs in her silver ballgown and settled in beside Dad, a demure smile plastered to her lips as she nodded to the peasants below her.

  Everything seemed so different now and, for a moment, it made her sad. She wished she could’ve stayed naïve and kept believing that all this pompous tradition and happenstance was important. But it wasn’t. There was an entire world outside of this life. A big one. And then she had a moment of sadness that it had taken her so long to start living. To start paying attention to the things that mattered. Real relationships, privacy to find one’s happiness, space, getting bills paid on time, those breathless moments where everything felt right and good. The way a man could make her feel safe, even without an umbrella of money.

  As she watched her mother up there with Dad, glowing and beaming under everyone’s undivided attention, she knew she didn’t want this life anymore. Knew without a shadow of a doubt. She could imagine her and Brayden standing up there in ten years, their focus on everyone else’s opinion, not on each other. What an awful vision.

  “That could’ve been me,” she whispered to Burke.

  He dragged his attention from her father to her, his eyes a muddy goldish-brown. She liked this color best. It wasn’t the dark brown of his human, and it wasn’t the shining gold of his lion. It was in the middle—it was both parts of him. “You don’t want to be the center of attention?” he asked.

  “I don’t mind the attention, but not for my last name. I want to do something bigger.”

  He lifted his chin, and a smile curved his lips. “And so you will. Besides,” he said, looking back at her father, who was winding down on the toast, “your name doesn’t have to be Wilson forever.”

  “Ha.” She had kept her last name when she’d married Brayden because she was a Wilson. She’d wanted everyone to know exactly who she was.

  “Dunne is a good name, too,” he said off-the-cuff, then raised his glass up with the rest of the partygoers and took a sip.

  She couldn’t get her body to move a single muscle. She just stood there staring at him, wondering how the hell he’d short-circuited her entire system with six words.

  “You look like you could use some cheeseball,” Leslie said, way too close to her ear.

  “Ahh!” Kimberly said, jumping hard. The champagne sloshed in her hand, and then they were off, Leslie dragging her through the crowd.

  “Wait, I need to ask if Burke wants anything!” He looked as startled as she felt, but Leslie had a death grip on her arm. God, she was strong!

  “Bachelors four and seven are hunting you. Burke and Kieran can handle them.”

  “Bachelors four and seven?” she yelped as Leslie released her from her iron grasp.

  “Didn’t you study the list Mom sent in the text loop? There are a lot of dudes she thinks should shack up with you. She even listed their jobs and incomes. Standing beside the long buffet table of hors d'oeuvres, Leslie pointed at a man who had approached Burke and Kieran. “Bartholomew Chastain, bachelor number two. He works in stocks. Married twice but somehow kept all his money and left the ex-wives destitute. He’s a real winner. A womanizer, and he likes the strip clubs, but hey, he’s in that top tax bracket.”

  “Mom wrote that in their profiles?” Kimberly asked.

  “Hell no. She left the good bits out. Me and Kieran researched them.”

  Kimberly looked up at Mom, who was leaning over the banister, glaring first at Kieran and Burke who were talking to ol’ Barty-Bart-the-Stripper-Monger, and then sliding her angry little expression to Kimberly and Leslie.

  Leslie waved and smiled brightly. “Hi, Mother!”

  Kimberly turned to the cheeseball, scooped a huge blob onto a cracker, shoved it in her mouth, and chewed angrily.

  That will go straight to your hips, Mom mouthed.

  “Burke likes big hips!” Kimberly retorted way louder than she’d intended.

  The conversations around her stopped, and people stared. Leslie brayed a laugh that resembled a donkey noise, and Burke agreed loudly, “It’s true. I like big butts and I cannot lie.”

  Kimberly stacked a plate with crackers smeared with goat cheese, mini egg rolls, a blob of caviar, cucumber slices topped with a shrimp medley, and lobster tail. She moved away from the table, but then on second thought, she turned back and added a second lobster tail.

  “What are you doing?” Mom whisper-screamed. Her cheeks were red, and she was huffing breath from flying down the stairs. “Everyone is watching you.”

  “Well, they can watch me put these lobster tails in my purse to take home for later, too.” Kimberly reached for her purse, but Mom swatted it away. “Why are the two of you doing this to me?”

  “No one is doing anything to you.”

  “I gave you life!”

  “Oh, geez, here we go,” Leslie muttered.

  “You gave me a bubble,” Kimberly growled low. “And I know your intentions were good, but I’m okay! I’m doing okay!”

  “Brayden is looking. He’s looking! And look at the smug smile on his girlfriend’s face!”

  Kimberly followed where Mom was pointing and, yep, there he was. Her ex-husband dressed in a tux and tie that perfectly complimented his new lady’s green dress. Wow, she was really pretty.

  Kimberly waved. Brayden waved back. His lady looked angry and swatted his hand down. When Burke appeared at her side like a damn ghost come back to life, she pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him, then loudly announced, “I got you the last lobster tail, Sugar Dick.”

  In the middle of the crowd, a hand rose in a thumbs up. She was pretty sure it was Kieran and he was laughing.

  Burke took the plate from her hands and cleared his throat. “Mrs. Wilson, I think Kimberly needs a little break from the”—his smile didn’t reach his eyes—“strain.”

  “What strain could she possibly be feeling? Everything was organized and handled for her.”

  “You are the strain.”

  “Mom clamped her mouth shut, and her eyes went all beady and pissed. The perfectly applied blush on her cheeks was nothing next to the real color of fury that painted her face.

  “Your daughter is fine,” Burke murmured low. “She wants to have a fun night, as I’m sure you do, too.”

  “I’ve already lost one daughter to your kind,” Mom said in a soft hiss.

  “Leslie is happy,” he murmured, “not lost.”

  “You have no business butting into our family affairs,” Mom said.

  Burke nodded to Kimberly. “She’s my business, and your family affairs can wait until another day when there isn’t a bunch of people watching. And if one of your bachelors approaches us, saying you sent them to rescue Kimberly? I swear to everything holy, I will change into my animal and ruin this whole fucking party. Kimberly is perfectly capable of rescuing herself.”

  “Mom,” Kimberly murmured, “can you just let me be tonight? Just let me enjoy the party. You can put your focus back on your guests.”

  Mom opened her red painted lips to respond, but Dad appeared behind her. “Gladys. Enough.”

  Mom flinched like she’d been slapped. Just…looked utte
rly slapped and glanced up at Dad with an expression of such betrayal. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re making a scene,” Dad pointed out.

  “For the sake of my child. You know what? I’ll always sacrifice because that’s the burden of a mother. We see what is good for you, and we never stop guiding you in the proper direction. I’ll never quit on you Kimberly. Not even now when you have clearly quit on yourself. I will sacrifice anything to make sure you’re taken care of. You might hate me for a while, but that won’t last forever. Someday you will thank me, when you have a daughter of your own and care about her as I care about you.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. She turned with a dramatic swoop of her full skirts and sashayed through the crowd.

  “I don’t hate her,” Kimberly said. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  Dad shrugged. “You know your mother. She likes control, and she’s hyper-focused on you. She feels like she failed Leslie, and she’s trying to make up for that, even if her methods are…”

  “Fucking terrible?” Kimberly asked.

  Dad rolled his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Language, Kimberly.” He opened his eyes and frowned at something behind her. “Leslie, what did you just do?”

  Her sister was screwing the cap on a flask. “Spiking the punch.”

  “You’re the one who keeps doing that at these parties?” he demanded.

  “Yup. So all these yuppies relax and talk about something more interesting than the rise and fall of the stock market.” She stirred the huge crystal bowl of punch with the ladle and then poured some into a glass, handed it to Dad. “Bottoms up, ol’ man.”

  Dad sighed a frustrated sound, looked behind him to where Mom was now schmoozing the Whitmans, and then took the glass from Leslie’s hand. “Tell me if she looks.” He drank it down and then turned to Burke, shook his hand fast. “You’re doing just fine.”

  Burke looked surprised, but he recovered fast. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Remember when these parties were fun?” Leslie asked, watching Dad’s back as he walked away.

  “No,” Kimberly grumbled.

  “Yeah, remember when we were kids, and you, me, Mari, Beth, and those two boys we used to play tennis with found a bunch of bottles of sparkling grape juice from that hidden drawer in the fridge. We hung out in the tree house and played Truth or Dare and no one even noticed we were gone from the party for hours?”

  Whoa. A flash of memory filled her mind. She’d been freezing cold because Mom had picked out a short party dress for her, but they’d pulled out all the towels from the cabana by the pool, dragged them to the treehouse, cuddled up, and talked and laughed the night away. “Yeah, I do remember. That was probably the most fun party. Up until Mom wanted us to be in the annual family pictures and couldn’t find us and called the cops and we had to climb down the tree and get a lecture on running away.” She sighed. “To our own backyard.”

  “Mom was super dramatic about that one,” Leslie explained to Kieran.

  Kieran scrunched up his face. “I can only imagine.”

  “You know, Mom and Dad still stock up the sparkling grape juice for Beth’s kids.”

  Burke asked, “Is the tree house still standing?”

  “Yep.” Leslie nodded. “Dad had it revamped when Beth and Marie started breeding.”

  Kimberly snorted at the way she’d put that.

  They all looked at each other with conspiracy in their dancing eyes.

  “We’ll get the grape juice,” Kimberly said.

  “We’ll get the towels,” Leslie murmured low. “Meet us at the tree. Operation Escape the Snobs is in play. One, two, three, and go.” She clapped really loud, like she was some sort of coach, and a few of the couples around them startled at the sound.

  Kimberly giggled as Burke grabbed her hand and led her calmly through the crowd toward the kitchen. Chef Jeff was in the middle of the kitchen chaos giving orders to a catering team and the servers, but when he saw her, he perked up. “Here to sneak some of the quiche before it goes out?”

  “There’s quiche?” Kimberly asked, still holding her overflowing plate of snacks, lobster tails and all.

  “I know it’s your favorite.”

  “Yep, I’m going to need a few of the crab ones.” She hummed under her breath as she plucked the miniature snacks off the serving plate and balanced them on the edges of the plate. “And also the bacon and ham.”

  “I saw your sister and her mate sneak out the back,” Chef Jeff said. “If you’re going to the treehouse, perhaps bring them the entire tray of snacks. He winked at her. “I won’t tell.”

  She beamed up at him and grabbed the tray of deliciousness in her other hand. “You are my favorite chef.”

  “I’m the only chef you know.”

  “Doesn’t take away from your specialness,” she said over her shoulder as she pointed to the bottom drawer of the built-in wall fridge for Burke. He opened it and grabbed two bottles of sparkling white grape juice and nodded at Chef Jeff. “The food here is phenomenal. Thank you.”

  Chef Jeff’s bushy gray brows lifted high under his hat. “I like this one,” he told Kimberly.

  “Me, too,” she said quick before their escape through the chaos of servers to the back door.

  “You spoke the truth when you said that,” Burke murmured, holding the door open for her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can hear the truth in someone’s voice. Or the lie. You like me.”

  “Of course, I like you. I wore UGGs for you. What do you need, a sign written in the sky?”

  He chuckled and followed her past the pool to the cobblestone pathway between tall hedges. When they reached the storage shed in the back, which was way bigger than her entire tiny house, she took a right down another path strewn with cedar chips that had been covered by the snow. There was a light snowfall now, and it was full dark, but the strands of outdoor lights on the porch and gazebos illuminated their way just enough. She had to step much more carefully than Burke, thanks to her heels, but he stayed right beside her, ready to catch her if she went down. Or the food. But probably her. Burke was sort of a gentleman.

  “Admission, I wish I was wearing my UGGs right now.” Her feet were freezing! And the back of her dress was dragging in the snow.

  “You really like me?” Burke asked again, so soft she almost missed it.

  Baffled, she paused and turned to him, searched his eyes. “Of course, I do. You make me feel good about myself when you’re around. Like everything is really going to be okay. Like I’m okay to just…just…be me.”

  He was so handsome in the glow of the lights, his cheeks chiseled, his jaw newly shaven. His eyes were bright, inhuman, and utterly captivating. His smile only existed in the very corners of his lips, and when he leaned down, she got that slight flip-flop feeling in her stomach again. He didn’t kiss her right away. Instead, he rested his forehead on hers, then rubbed his cheek against hers, and then moved to the other cheek and gave her the same affection there, too. He was purring again. It rattled straight through his chest and filled her up.

  Kimberly closed her eyes and relaxed into him. This felt natural. It felt right. It was a sign of affection from his animal that she would lie awake thinking about later, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky for a man like him to be so comfortable with a woman like her. They had come from two completely different worlds, but here, in the snowfall, in the shadow of her childhood treehouse, she couldn’t even imagine a world without him.

  This is what falling felt like. Falling in love, falling for a man who made sense, falling into something she knew down to her very soul was important. Essential, perhaps.

  She’d never fallen before.

  Kimberly thought she had in her past, but it was nothing like this. Nothing at all.

  She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, and for a few seconds, she got lost in the feel of his mouth moving against hers. The sound of the purr in his chest. The warmth that
radiated off him and banished the chills on her arms.

  He eased back by inches and sighed, his eyes trapping her gaze. “I really like you, too.”

  And the butterflies flew on.

  “Awwwww!” Leslie crooned from behind them.

  Kimberly lurched back like she’d been caught boning under the bleachers. Leslie had her phone up, a hand on her chest, and the mushiest look on her face. She could barely see Kieran past the humongous stack of towels he was carrying.

  “Girls!” Mom called from the house. “Are you out here?”

  “Oh, shit,” Kimberly whispered, squatting down in the snow. “She’s coming, right?” She listened, but all she could hear was her drumming heartbeat. “She’s probably coming!”

  Mom was going to come around the edge of the storage shed at any moment!

  The sound of smacking filled the air, and when she looked at Leslie, squatted down beside her, Kimberly’s baby sister was munching on quiche and completely relaxed as though she had no fear of Mom at all.

  “Can we go now?” Leslie asked. “We both know Mom won’t come out here in her high heels and get the hem of her ballgown wet in the snow. When Leslie offered her a mini quiche, Kimberly’s manners made her hesitate. Only for a second though, because she realized it was one of the crab ones, which were her favorites, so she opened up her mouth like a little baby bird, and Leslie popped the delicious snack right in.

  Her life was weird now.

  Burke helped her to her feet and handed Leslie the sparkling children’s drinks, took the plates from Kimberly’s hands, and offered his elbow for her to hold onto. And then as a strange little adventure squad, they slipped and slid their way down the icy slope to the old maple tree that housed their little hidey hole.

  At the base of the tree, as the boys loaded their food and drinks into the bucket that could be pulled up to the railing above, she stared at the old playhouse. It had a new deck and a new coat of paint, but it mostly looked the same as it had in her youth.

  Everything had made sense when she’d played up there as a kid. Everything had been simple.