by Zoe Chant
The Girl Nest Door
By Zoe Chant
Copyright Zoe Chant 2018
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Green Valley Shifters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
A Note from Zoe Chant
Start the series with savings!
More Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant
Zoe Chant writing under other names
If you loved The Girl Nest Door...
Green Valley Shifters
This is book two of the Green Valley Shifters series. All of my books are stand-alones (they never have cliffhangers!) and can be read independently, but this book closely follows the events in the previous book. This is the order the series may be most enjoyed:
Dancing Bearfoot (Book 1)
The Girl Nest Door (Book 2)
Dandelion Spring (forthcoming)
Chapter 1
“Mr. Powell?”
Shaun rubbed his face and reminded himself that glowering at the intercom was ineffective. “What is it?” he asked shortly.
“It’s Mrs. Powell ... Er, Mrs. ex-Powell... Ah...”
“Harriette.”
“Yes, Mr. Powell.”
Shaun momentarily wished his office had an escape exit. Wasn’t there some sort of requirement for that kind of thing? But they were dozens of floors up, looking out over Minneapolis, and vanishing out the window to scale a fire escape was unlikely to happen. Why couldn’t he have a more useful shifted form, he wondered. Something that could fly.
His inner tiger gave an unamused snort.
“Mr. Powell?”
“Send her in.”
Shaun had been expecting... something. A phone call? A demand for more money?
He hadn’t been expecting Harriette to visit at his office.
And he definitely wasn’t expecting the little boy who was holding her hand.
Trevor.
Whatever regrets he had about his brief and stormy marriage to Harriette, Trevor had never been one of them.
Trevor must be five now, and Shaun had seen him just twice in the past two years: awkward visits on his birthday. Trevor had been understandably shy and confused about him, and Shaun went away wondering if it wasn’t kinder to step back and let him build a healthy relationship with whatever partner Harriette had last found to replace him.
He scowled and returned his gaze to Harriette. She must have some wild demands if she was dragging Trevor in for leverage.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. It must be money.
“I’m not here to ask you for anything,” Harriette said, in that terribly reasonable tone she’d always had. “I’m here to give you what you keep asking for.”
Shaun scrambled to think of anything he’d asked for since the divorce. His lawyer had tried to convince him to fight harder against her ridiculous financial demands, but Shaun had only wanted one thing — and Harriette’s lawyer had been able to get her full custody of their son. His work and hours were ‘incompatible’ with raising a child.
“This is about the house in Green Valley?” Shaun guessed. “I got the foreclosure warning. I’m not sure how you bypassed the fund I set up to pay for that. Did you think it wouldn’t count towards child support this way?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Harriette said. That was the Harriette from the end of their marriage. The cutting one who had already found something better to move on to. “I’m bringing you Trevor.”
Shaun wasn’t sure who to stare at.
Trevor was gazing at the fishtank, ignoring his parents’ conversation. His blond hair was several shades lighter than Shaun’s. Harriette had taken to dyeing her hair the same shade as Trevor’s instead of her natural brunette, which was downright eerie.
Harriette put the papers she was holding down on Shaun’s desk and plucked a pen from his holder. “I had my lawyer draw up the papers. You wanted him, you got him.”
Shaun glanced at Trevor, his heart hurting for the boy. How brutal could it be, hearing Harriette give him away like he was nothing?
Trevor didn’t seem to notice, staring enraptured at the fish.
Shaun stood and drew Harriette as far away from Trevor’s hearing as the office could manage. “You mean you found someone new and he’s an impediment? What happened to the real estate guy who loved kids?”
“That’s none of your business,” Harriette hissed. “Just sign the papers. It’s what you want anyway.”
Shaun stared at her, trying to remember that he’d found her beautiful once. She was so strong-willed and sure-footed, with her perfect make-up and sultry smile. Shaun only now really realized how much of that was an act.
She had never really wanted Shaun, only the successful investment company he was building. And once she’d set her sights on him, Shaun hadn’t stood a chance.
“What about the house in Green Valley?”
Harriette shrugged. “I don’t care. Trevor’s got some stuff left there.”
How had he thought she was sensitive and sweet?
“I go to preschool in Green Valley,” Trevor said shyly, joining them.
Harriette ignored him. “Are you going to sign it or not?”
“Do you like your preschool?” Shaun asked gently.
Trevor seemed to perk up. “Yeah! There’s a rabbit, and Miss Andrea can juggle. Miss Patricia plays piano.”
“It’s great,” Harriette said dismissively. “Papers?”
“I’m not signing anything my lawyer hasn’t looked at,” Shaun said firmly.
Harriette’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll take him with me,” she threatened. “I’m leaving the country, and with full custody, I don’t have to clear that with you.”
Shaun’s stomach clenched and his tiger growled.
He looked down at Trevor’s anxious face, remembering the scant armful he had been as a baby, and the fascinating expressions Shaun had spent so much time gazing at. Trevor had been taking his first steps when Shaun’s marriage began to fall apart. After a few months of separation and a divorce that cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars, Harriette had taken their son to the quiet town of Green Valley; in no small part, Shaun knew, because it was just beyond a comfortable commute for visits.
Shaun had lost two years of Trevor’s life. He’d gone away a toddler and stood before him now as a little boy. He could almost see the shape of the man he was going to grow up to be in the steady gaze and the set of the chin.
Trevor reached up and began to pick his nose.
“I’ll sign,” Shaun said quietly.
“Are we going back to Green Valley now?” Trevor asked in concern, looking from Harriette to Shaun. “I don’t want to miss preschool.”
“You’re going back to Green Valley,” Harriette said dismissively. “I’ll be happy never to set foot in it.”
She watched in triumph as Shaun read over the contract and signed it. He wasn’t a lawyer, but it was a simple document compared to their divorce, and it said what he most wanted to see: full custody. No strings.
Harriette smirked.
“I saw the part about the settlement payment,” Shaun growled. “So there’s no need to feel smug. I’ll have the secretary write you a check on your way out.”
It would have been worth twice as much, to have Trevor back.
“What about preschool?” Trevor asked again. “I don’t want to miss it. On Monday we’re making Easter baskets.”
“I... guess we’re going to Green Valley, then,” Shaun said in bemusement. “We’ll check out the house and get it ready to sell and then we can move back here to the city together.”
Harriette took her copy of the contract. “Whatever you want,” she said dismissively. She gave Trevor a cursory hug. “Don’t muss my hair,” she warned the boy.
Trevor, realizing something was going terribly wrong, began to cry and cling to her. “I don’t want you to go, Mummy. I don’t want to live in the city. I want to go to preschool and stay in Green Valley.”
Harriette peeled him carefully off. “You’re going to live with your daddy now. We talked about this, remember? Be a brave, good boy and say goodbye now.”
Trevor, chin trembling, let her go.
And then she was gone, leaving the best thing she’d ever done behind.
Chapter 2
“Can I get a refill?”
Andrea jotted down notes as fast as she could, cursing the fading pen and the textured napkin as she tried to remember the sequence of events she’d figured out while she was waiting for Stanley to pick from the menu that hadn’t changed in twenty years.
“Order up!”
Damn. What had she figured out for the villain’s motivation? She’d thought of a way to bring the cat back into the plot, hadn’t she? She added a few question marks and a scrawl that might have been “cat” and “motivation for villain?” That would hopefully be enough to jog her memory later.
“Order UP!”
Andrea startled. Old George rarely repeated anything he didn’t have to. Andrea tucked the pen and napkin into her apron, hoping that it would be readable later.
She swept the food from the kitchen window onto her tray, grabbed the water pitcher with her other hand, and nearly delivered the order to the wrong table.
“Patricia is a better waitress,” Marta told her with the candor of someone who was past thinking what people thought of her as she accepted the plate of hash and eggs. “Doesn’t this come with toast?”
“Patricia is a much better waitress,” Andrea agreed with return frankness. “But she rolled her car and sprained her ankle, and Gran doesn’t have much of a hiring pool to draw on, so you’re stuck with me for a few weeks.” She refilled Marta’s water glass without sloshing too much of it onto the laminated tabletop.
Marta laughed with appreciation. “Probably more than a few weeks,” she said speculatively. “With her new billionaire boyfriend, she doesn’t have to wait tables for us commoners.”
“Oh, you know Patricia,” Andrea laughed. “She’s not suited to being a kept woman. She’ll be back at Gran’s Grits before you know it, making me look bad again.”
Marta kindly did not mention that Andrea was doing a perfectly fine job of looking bad without Patricia’s comparison, and Andrea didn’t add that she really needed the paycheck and hoped that Lee would convince Patricia to stay off the ankle as long as possible.
Andrea pretended not to see Devon wave his empty glass at her as she scooted back to the window.
“Marta needs toast,” she reminded the short order cook.
“Waitress is supposed to do that.” George wasn’t actually that old, but he shaved his head and had a short, grizzled beard in salt and pepper, and since no one could remember a time without him around, he wore the nickname well. “Did Stanley ever decide?”
“Oh, crap,” Andrea said, fishing into her apron pocket. She found two crumpled napkins of notes and an order ticket. “The fish lunch special,” she said triumphantly, putting it into George’s hand. “No salt on the fries.”
“Go give Devon a refill, here’s the toast you were supposed to make.” George didn’t sound happy about it, but Andrea gave him her best ‘I’m-an-airhead-please-don’t-fire-me’ smile and cheerfully marched the toast back to Marta’s table.
“What were you drinking?” she asked Devon, taking the glass and straw.
Devon looked at her like she was an idiot. “Iced tea.”
“Oh, right. Soda machine’s down.”
“Maybe write that down on a napkin?” Devon suggested caustically.
Andrea blushed as she stalked away. Since she probably wasn’t going to get a tip anyway, she did a second-rate job stirring in the sugar, knowing it would be a gritty sludge at the bottom. Patricia probably stirred it until it was completely dissolved and remembered the lemon every time.
Andrea picked the last, ugly lemon slice from the bowl and tried to position it to look its most hideous.
When she went to refill glasses of water throughout the small, dated diner, the regulars smiled and shook their heads at her.
“How’s the book going?” Stanley asked her as she put his fish down in front of him.
“Oh, you know. I’ve got some ideas. Working away at it.” Andrea didn’t want to admit that the book was still mostly napkins and notes.
Somehow, when she started writing, tired from a day working at the preschool and an afternoon waiting tables, it didn’t seem as captivating as she imagined it would be while she was otherwise busy. And at home, there were dirty dishes waiting for her to wash, and laundry in a heap by the washer, and spring was starting to melt the snow and expose all the things in her yard that needed to be picked up.
Somehow, she managed to instead spend an hour writing instructions to her aunt about unclogging her toilet, with pictures and diagrams, instead of adding actual chapters.
And there was the sky, begging for flight.
“Well, you just remember us, when you’re a famous writer,” Stanley told her warmly. “You remember Green Valley and all of us who cheered you on.”
Andrea smiled and patted his hand, to be rewarded with a largely-toothless smile. “I could never forget,” she promised.
Chapter 3
Pulling up in front of the house in Green Valley, Shaun vowed to sell the place at whatever loss it took as soon as he could settle the back payments with the bank.
They arrived too late for Trevor to get to preschool, which had resulted in broken-hearted weeping that cut Shaun to the bone, leaving him ill-disposed to like anything about the sleepy little town.
It was an old building, like almost everything in Green Valley, with nothing particularly graceful to recommend it. It was grand, compared to the other, smaller houses, but needed a coat of paint and new windows. The yard might have been nice once, but was badly overgrown, and the swing set in one corner was rusty and looked like a good source of tetanus.
The house was offset on the property, so close to the neighboring house that you could undoubtedly see straight into their rooms.
Indeed, the whole neighborhood lacked anything resembling privacy. The narrow, waist-high hedge between these two was as much of as any of them had; most of the lawns simply ran into each other, occasionally with a line of decorative rocks or a flowerbed to designate the boundary. The proverbial white picket fence that ran along the sidewalk was more of a statement than a notion of separation.
Several of the neighbors were out, surreptitiously eyeing him as they planted flowers and raked up last year’s leaves.
No space t
o run, his tiger told him sadly.
“We’re probably not going to stay long,” Shaun warned Trevor.
Trevor had exhausted himself crying on the long trip once Shaun had told him they wouldn’t be able to make it to preschool, and he only shrugged miserably now.
“We’ll stay the night, maybe two,” Shaun tried to explain gently. “Then we’ll pack up all of your stuff and go back to Minneapolis.”
Trevor looked at him with big, broken eyes and didn’t ask about preschool.
“We’ll get you signed up for a great school there,” Shaun said anyway. “With lots of kids your age that you can make friends with.”
Trevor went back to inspecting his feet and Shaun pulled out the house key and tried to unlock the deadbolt.
The key wouldn’t turn.
He pulled it out and checked the tag. This was the right key.
It went easily back into the lock, but no amount of wiggling it seemed to budge the bolt.
Then Trevor turned at the sound of a creak and began to tug at his hand. “Miss Andrea! Daddy, that’s Miss Andrea! She lives next door!”
Shaun looked down at Trevor first. It was as animated as he’d been since Harriette had first dragged him into his office, and it gave Shaun the first ray of hope since that moment.
He turned to identify the source of Trevor’s excitement, and found a woman standing at the gate next door.
She had long dark hair that made her look even shorter than she actually was, and warm caramel skin. She was wearing a dark tank top that showed off a glorious amount of cleavage, and a lightweight sweater was wrapped around her waist.
Most arresting were her eyes, golden and fierce even across what passed as a lawn at this house.
Inside him, Shaun’s tiger gave a primal growl and Shaun was shocked by the unexpected, instant desire that coursed through him.
He had heard of the mate instinct; it was sometimes romanticized as love at first sight, and Shaun had always dismissed it as a fairy tale out of hand.
Now here he was, feeling helplessly swept up in his tiger’s lust and longing.
This is not convenient timing, he told his tiger. He was keenly aware of the public scrutiny along the block, and of Trevor, who was trying to drag him over to the hedge as Miss Andrea walked towards them in response to his call.
