The Girl Nest Door (Green Valley Shifters Book 2)

by Zoe Chant

  “I want to set the table,” Trevor announced at the kitchen door as if it was his own idea. He gathered up carefully counted handfuls of silverware as Shaun dumped a large pot of steaming water and noodles into the sink where the colander was waiting.

  “Can I help?” Andrea asked, lingering behind.

  “The bread can go to the dining room,” Shaun suggested. “And the butter is there.” He gestured with an elbow.

  Andrea gathered both up, inhaling a deep, appreciative whiff of the fragrant bread, and took them to the dining room.

  “I want you to sit there,” Trevor said, indicating a chair at the end. “And Daddy sits here. I want to sit beside you.”

  Andrea raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t you think your dad ought to sit a little closer? He can’t reach the bread from there.”

  “He has long arms,” Trevor said breezily.

  “Let’s put him across the table from us, instead of way down at the end,” Andrea suggested. “It will make it easier to pass things.”

  “Okay,” Trevor said agreeably.

  He was moving the silverware down to the newly allotted space when Shaun came in with the pot of spaghetti.

  “I didn’t want sauce!” Trevor wailed, wide-eyed in alarm.

  “No worries,” Shaun said quickly. “I put aside a bowl of noodles for you before I mixed the rest up. I just didn’t have enough hands to carry it all at once.”

  “Wouldn’t your dad look funny with more hands?” Andrea suggested.

  Trevor giggled.

  Andrea tried not to think about what Shaun might do with more hands, and helped Trevor set out the napkins while his father got another load of food and dishes from the kitchen.

  “This is the most amazing spaghetti I’ve ever seen,” Andrea said, doing her best not to sound flirtatious as he dished it up. “What brand is this sauce?”

  Shaun scoffed, “Brand? I made these from fresh tomatoes and onions.”

  “I hate onions,” Trevor added, sprinkling a small mountain of Parmesan cheese onto his bowl of noodles.

  “Good to know,” Shaun said.

  Andrea half-wished that she’d left him in the seat Trevor had originally picked for him. It was too easy to gaze across the table at him.

  Shaun, on the other hand, was able to watch Trevor, who was making a production of the long noodles.

  The bread was as amazing as it smelled, with a thick, chewy crust and a soft, pillowy center. Andrea closed her eyes and sighed at the perfect texture and flavor.

  “You know, that’s one thing Green Valley just doesn’t have,” she said with regret. “A decent bakery.”

  “I’m going to have to make you—” Shaun stopped himself.

  Andrea wondered what he’d meant say, but Trevor jealously tried to get her attention as he slurped a noodle from his bowl. “Look at me, Miss Andrea. Look at me!”

  Andrea turned her attention to him, exclaiming theatrically over Trevor’s noodle manipulations and encouraging him to eat them as well.

  Conversation remained light and frivolous as they finished their meals, and Andrea swept the last of her sauce up with a last decadent slice of the bread.

  “I’m going to have to get your dad to push me home in a wheelbarrow,” Andrea joked. “I’m too full to walk!”

  “Me too!” Trevor said, mimicking her leaning back in her chair. “Daddy, you have to carry me.”

  “Who’s going to carry me?” Shaun asked with laughter.

  Andrea stood as he did, and helped gather up the dishes.

  “You don’t have to help,” Shaun told her. “I’ve got this.”

  Andrea made the mistake of meeting his eyes, and her fingers brushed his as he took the plates she was holding from her.

  It was ridiculous what this man did to her calm with a simple glance and the merest touch.

  Then Trevor remembered something. “Pie!” he said, sitting bolt upright in his chair. “There’s pie!”

  Shaun raised an eyebrow at him and backed away from Andrea inconspicuously. “Weren’t you just saying how full you were?”

  “No life is too full for pie,” Andrea said. “Especially Gran’s pumpkin pie.”

  “I’m not too full,” Trevor promised. “I have an empty spot, right here.” He pointed at his side. “It needs pie.”

  Andrea sat back down beside him. “My empty spot is here,” she said.

  Her first instinct was to touch over her heart, but she caught herself just in time and pointed to an elbow instead.

  While Shaun retreated to the kitchen for the pie, she teased Trevor about eating food and letting it fill up her arms and legs. “You’ve always had a hollow leg,” she laughed, poking him on the knee and making him squirm and giggle.

  Keep it casual, she reminded herself. It’s just a thing. Twice a thing, and two dinners.

  Ours, her hawk muttered.

  She was able to keep things convincingly light-hearted as they worked through pie, and left quickly when she noticed that Trevor was flagging.

  “I want you to tuck me in,” Trevor started to whine.

  “Maybe next time, little lion,” Andrea said, and when Trevor looked like he was about to throw a fit over it, quickly stalled him by saying, “I have to find more clues on my way home so we can find the bad guys before preschool tomorrow, Superpuppy!”

  Shaun looked at her with consternation, walked her to the door, and they argued politely and briefly over who would keep the remainder of the pie. Andrea finally gave in and walked home with it cradled in her arms like a consolation prize.

  His door closing behind her, leaving her out in the darkness and quiet by herself, felt like all the wrong things.

  Chapter 19

  “This time, we’re going to stay in bed for good,” Shaun reminded Trevor wearily.

  Bedtime remained the greatest test to his patience as a parent.

  Some nights, Trevor fell easily asleep, giving Shaun a chance to meet Andrea as she returned from closing up at Gran’s Grit, or catch her eye through the windows that looked across at each other and wave her over.

  They kept the charade of keeping things casual, always with an excuse at hand for Andrea’s visit after Trevor’s bedtime. The aging house gave him plenty of questions to ask, and there was always the topic of Trevor.

  Shaun did not have to fabricate the many questions he had about how to deal with the boy. He had not guessed how complicated a five-year-old could be. Every time he was close to despair over Trevor’s childishness, the boy would come up with something incredibly deep and introspective that made him re-evaluate his understanding of his son. When Shaun was ready to roar into tiger form at the frustration and impatience that Trevor unleashed in him, the boy would do something so vulnerable and affectionate that Shaun could hold no grudge.

  Andrea’s advice was without fail measured and understanding, and she was sympathetic to his troubles and ready with laughter and perspective.

  And after she had listened, never showing the slightest impatience, there was a moment of tension that always ended with a kiss and scramble for skin.

  Those nights were the best.

  But most nights, unfortunately, were a battle of wills with a five-year-old that managed to be as tenacious as Shaun’s most cutthroat business associates.

  Duct tape was a tempting option.

  “Daddy?”

  Shaun’s heart sank.

  Trevor’s voice was so tentative and helpless that he could not resist turning in the doorway.

  “What is it?” he asked, trying not to sound as frustrated and conflicted as he felt.

  “Can I have one more hug?”

  Shaun was undone, and he walked back in to gather Trevor into his arms and hold him tight.

  “Now you have to go to sleep. For real,” he scolded, releasing the reluctant boy. He tucked a stuffy into his arms. “Good night.”

  He shut the door behind him and waited there for the inevitable call to return. Would it be wa
ter this time? A trip to the potty? He stood there in anxious anticipation until he realized that it had been long enough there was a chance the boy was asleep.

  Don’t get too excited, he told himself. Could be a false alarm.

  He crept away from Trevor’s bedroom door like a thief in his own house, to what had been the guest bedroom. He hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of sleeping in Harriette’s bed, so this had been the best choice.

  It also happened to look over into Andrea’s bedroom.

  He looked down from the window to see that her porch light was off, which meant she was already home from work. A glance at the clock made Shaun grimace. It was so late that there was little chance that anything would happen that night; as he watched, the last light streaming from her downstairs windows flicked off.

  Shaun waited, hand on the curtain, until Andrea’s silhouette danced into her bedroom, backlit by the hall light beyond until she flicked it off. There was a moment of darkness, then she bent to turn on the lamp by the bed, leaving the harsher overhead fixture off. Shaun caught her face in a moment of soft, warm illumination until she turned away from it.

  He ought to stop watching. Or turn on his own light so that she knew he was there. Certainly he shouldn’t continue to stare through her window like some kind of creepy stalker.

  But Shaun was frozen, watching helplessly as she reached behind her to untie her apron. She gave a little hitch to her hips and twirled the loose tie as she looked over her shoulder in his direction.

  Shaun grinned to realize she knew he was there and settled back onto the bed. It groaned alarmingly, and he shot a worried look to the hallway. There were no sounds from Trevor’s shut door.

  When he turned back, Andrea was unbuttoning her uniform, spending unnecessary time with each fastener before she slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall.

  She was wearing lacy undergarments, to Shaun’s mixed regret. Clearly she had been hoping for an invitation over. Had she been lingering downstairs, waiting for Trevor to go to sleep, maybe for hours?

  With a mischievous, sideways look, she bent over more than necessary to pull her socks and sensible shoes from her feet. The curve of her ass was an invitation, her legs a promise.

  She stood up slowly from her task, gliding her own hands along the curves of her body. The memory of the feel of those contours under his hands made Shaun clench his fingers reflexively. He was demandingly hard, and could not quite resist reaching to rub at the bulge in his pants.

  Maddeningly, she turned away to unclasp her bra, holding it away from her to drop it onto the floor very obviously, but denying him a look at her gorgeous breasts.

  Then she was bending forward to slip her underwear off, her perfect ass giving just a glimpse of the treasure past it as she kicked the lacy confection off her foot.

  Shaun growled out loud before he could stop himself, and his own touch through his pants seemed painfully inadequate.

  She turned at last, giving him an eyeful of her inviting body... just before she leaned forward across the window seat, breasts jiggling, and swept the curtains closed across the window.

  Shaun lay back on the bed, groaning in need, hand clenching over his hungry package.

  He had never craved anyone like this in his life. The more that he tasted of her intoxicating skin, the more he wanted to devour it. Instead of finding satisfaction in their lovemaking, he was finding that it only made him want more of her.

  He didn’t just want stolen moments of sex and tantalizing glimpses of a life he didn’t share — clothing or not.

  He wanted to lay her down in a bed and make love to her for hours, not just steal a few moments of pleasure on the living room floor.

  He wanted her. All of her.

  So have her, his tiger growled in his ear. She is ours...

  On cue, there was a needy cry from down the hall and the creak of a door.

  “Daddy?”

  His need washed away in a flood of more immediate concerns.

  His desires could wait. But if Trevor didn’t get to sleep soon, tomorrow was going to be miserable for everyone.

  He considered the duct tape again briefly, then went to tuck the boy in again.

  Chapter 20

  “Trevor is absolutely blooming,” Patricia said quietly near Andrea’s ear. “And it’s not hard to see why.”

  It was one of those miraculous lulls in the preschool, where each student was raptly involved in their own project, or quietly helping their neighbor’s efforts, with no shrill cries for help or tears of frustration. Trevor was showing Clara how to hold her scissors and demonstrating his own shaky technique with enthusiasm.

  Andrea could not help blushing. She had not told Patricia about their passionate encounter in the laundry room, nor the following night, on Shaun’s hideous couch. Every few nights in the weeks since then, she had found herself on his porch with some excuse, bringing by a replacement part and instructions for installing it, or answering some question about how to deal with some minor behavior of Trevor’s.

  They never talked about themselves or their plans, keeping what little conversation they had to upkeep of Shaun’s old house or tricks for keeping up with an increasingly energetic five-year-old.

  “His dad really loves him,” she said. Only after she heard the words out loud did she wonder if it didn’t sound wistful. “It’s great to see how well Trevor is responding,” she added firmly, hoping it sounded professional and not defensive.

  She was glad, she reminded herself. Shaun was clearly right about not adding a romantic relationship to complicate what he was building with his son. Trevor was opening up to the other children, and starting to form bonds of friendship.

  Who knew how adding a girlfriend to the mix would stunt that progress.

  “So, what’s he like?” Patricia prodded.

  Andrea shrugged. “He seems nice,” she said vaguely, wishing that a conflict would break out between students to draw her away from the uncomfortable topic.

  Nice didn’t even really touch on what she thought of him. He was kind and gentle with Trevor, and smart, if hopelessly inept with home repair. Even if the sex weren’t amazing, she would have treasured those brief moments of conversation that they shared, and she liked him more with every word he spoke. It melted her heart every time that she saw him hugging Trevor goodbye or greeting him with an unabashed kiss on the head.

  “What does he do for a living? How long is he staying?” Patricia managed to sound completely innocent, even with her sidelong look of pure mischief.

  “I have no idea what he does,” Andrea said honestly. She ignored the question about how long he was staying; it hurt her chest to remember that they might still be leaving with the end of the semester.

  “Hmm,” Patricia said thoughtfully. “We should ask Trevor.”

  Andrea gave her a suspicious look. “Are you suggesting we pump a five-year-old for information?” she asked, grinning despite herself.

  Patricia’s eyes were dancing. “Why else have a job like this?” she mimicked. “They’re so easy to bribe at this age. Cookies and pennies will unlock any vault they guard.”

  Andrea laughed out loud, recognizing her own words from just a few months earlier when Patricia had first started seeing Clara’s father.

  Then Aaron put his hand up. “Miss Patricia! Miss Andrea! I cut the handle off!” he cried, near tears.

  Andrea made Patricia stay in her seat to rest her ankle and went to salvage the art project with tape.

  Was there a scotch tape that would work on hearts, she wondered. Because if she continued this way, she was undoubtedly going to need her own repairs.

  Chapter 21

  Shaun shifted uncomfortably and wondered if it would be too obvious if he rearranged the furniture in the living room so that a less painful chair could be used to spy on Andrea’s porch in the evening. He had figured out her work schedule within a few weeks, but was so desperate not to miss her that he spent extra agonizing time in t
he vantage point.

  Maybe I should just buy a new chair, he thought.

  But buying new furniture felt like a commitment to the house.

  He could explain away the improvements to the wiring as a necessary safety upgrade; he didn’t want Trevor in a house that wasn’t up to snuff for any length of time. But a chair — especially one to surveil the neighbor like some kind of pathetic stalker — seemed like an admission he wasn’t ready to make.

  He spent the days that Trevor was in preschool dividing his time between catching up on work items too critical to leave to underlings and trying to tame the yard.

  Wiring and plumbing might be out of his experience, but he could run a lawn mower and manage the tools he found in the back shed, and he could convince himself that it was work necessary to sell the house. It didn’t take long to clip back the growth that had threatened to take over the swingset, and a fresh coat of paint made it look much less like a horror movie prop. The biggest challenge there had been keeping Trevor distracted from it long enough to let the paint dry.

  Having a five-year-old underfoot was difficult in ways that Shaun had never anticipated, and rewarding to such a depth that he actively resented the years he had missed whenever he let himself think about it.

  The sound of Andrea’s gate squeaking set his thoughts aside and had his heart racing in anticipation.

  He made himself sit an extra count of ten before rising from the detested chair, not wanting to seem too eager, and went to the porch.

  Andrea was already leaning on her porch rail. “I wrote you up that stuff I was telling you about wire gauge,” she said, holding a piece of paper but not offering to pass it across to him. “So you can check the other fuses, too.” Instead of leaning just a little bit further to hand it to him, she gave a little questioning hitch of her shoulder.

  Shaun meant to stop their quiet, desperate evenings. His head knew he couldn’t just continue to string her along indefinitely, and Trevor seemed no closer to opening up to the idea of inviting her into their family than he had when Shaun first admitted that he liked Andrea.