Shifters in Seattle: Box Set Books 1 - 5

by Thorne, Truli

  That’s better, his bear says.

  "Are you going to tell me now what happened to you in the forest?"

  "I'm not ready to talk about it," he says.

  "No, you’re right." She pushes her chair back from the table, her voice wavering. "I’m sorry for prying. But did you see the wolf that ran by me just before you got there? It was so fast."

  "A wolf? No."

  Had Elle shifted and shown herself to Frankie? She was usually more discreet than that.

  "It was big."

  "How big?"

  "Like, as tall as me, maybe? I heard footsteps and loud breathing. And then, it came out of nowhere."

  "What color was it?"

  "Black, maybe brown?"

  That could have been Elle. Out in the forest trying to scare humans. It’s one of her favorite pastimes. When she’s in her wolf form she’s pure black.

  "I didn’t see the wolf, but I wasn’t feeling my best just then."

  "You’re feeling sick still." It isn’t a question.

  He nods and realizes he wants to tell Frankie everything about who he is and what’s going on with him.

  "My friend Lawton had just texted me and told me about shifters living in the forest here. But maybe he was just trying to scare me?" She laughs. "I think it worked."

  "Shifters?" He hadn’t known this was common knowledge.

  She nods. "And then you showed up. Naked. And dirty. It scared me, that’s all. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal business."

  He wants to tell her he’s a bear shifter, but how will she react? "Do you feel okay now? Are you still afraid?"

  "As soon as you took my hand out there, I felt better." She stares down at the table. "We should change now, I guess. So we get to the screening on time."

  "Wait, Frankie. I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling my best. I didn’t mean to growl at you. I’ll return to normal in Los Angeles, when we get back. You’ll see. I’m a different man there."

  "I like the man you are here," she says simply.

  He takes her hand and turns it over, kissing her palm, lingering over it, and is filled with a sense of peace.

  His bear sighs with contentment. Told you.

  "Do you have something to wear tonight?" Cliff asks, not letting go of her hand. "To the red carpet?"

  "There’s the dress I wore on Friday night. The blue one?"

  "I love you in that dress. But I have an idea that might be more fun."

  She looks at him.

  "Come with me." He stands, bringing Frankie along, and together they exit the bungalow.

  The storm has finally hit, and rain pelts them. "Run!" she laughs.

  They dash up the path toward the hotel lobby.

  Cliff has the urge to make Frankie laugh again.

  13

  The shop in the hotel lobby offers rain boots, hand-knit sweaters, and Washington Is for Lovers sweatshirts. The clerk, a gentle-looking middle-aged lady, almost swoons when she sees Cliff. She nods at Frankie approvingly, despite the rain still dripping off her.

  "I'm Gertrude," the clerk says with a kind smile. "Looks like someone needs a couple of rain jackets?"

  Cliff and Frankie look at each other and grin. They’re both drenched from the storm.

  "We need a dress," Cliff says. "Can you help?"

  "I have just the thing," Gertrude says, and leads them to a rack in the back, where a knitted shawl and skirt set the color of mud almost makes Frankie burst out laughing.

  "Not that," Gertrude says, pushing it to the side.

  Behind the sweater monstrosity hangs a sleek black dress with smooth lines.

  "It may not look like much, but try it on. It’s magic."

  Frankie looks up at Cliff. He nods.

  "Give her anything she wants," he tells Gertrude, turning to sit on a sofa near the dressing rooms. "Charge it to my room."

  Frankie isn’t sure. But she takes the dress into a dressing room.

  Once inside, she slides out of her jeans and T-shirt and drops the dress over her head. The dress hugs her body but also flows over her like a cloud. It feels like pure silk, shiny and smooth. The shop lady was right, it’s magic.

  She’s never felt so beautiful.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  "You'll need shoes too," she hears from the other side.

  Frankie opens the door.

  "Oh!" Gertrude gasps when she sees Frankie in the dress. "I’ve never seen it look better on anyone. Try these on." She hands over two pairs of glittery heels.

  Frankie grins and takes the shoes. They have clear heels and simple straps across the foot, encrusted with rhinestones. She slides her feet into the smaller pair, feeling like an absolute princess.

  "I love them!" she hollers over the door in case Gertrude is still there.

  When there’s a rap on the door, she throws it open. "What do you think?" she asks, looking at herself in the mirror and then glancing into the hallway.

  She gasps.

  Instead of the shop clerk, Elle Hudson is standing outside the dressing room, her hands on her hips, scowling at Frankie’s feet.

  Frankie’s heart drops and she steps back instinctively.

  "That dress is perfect. The shoes? No. Absolutely not." Elle looks up at Frankie’s shocked expression and smiles maliciously. "Did Cliff pick those out? He has no taste."

  Elle turns toward the front of the shop. "Gertrude?" she calls out. "These shoes will not do."

  Gertrude scurries back to their dressing room, pushing her damp hair off her forehead. The poor lady is breaking a sweat. "Sorry, more customers came in the store. We’re so busy today."

  She looks at Frankie’s feet and smiles. "Yes. Love them." Then she glances up at Elle, who is shaking her head sadly. "Or maybe...not? Something else maybe?"

  "Too flashy," Elle says. "Something more tasteful. Something black. Closed toe. Lower heel."

  "I love them," Frankie says with a smile. She turns a toe back and forth, looking in the mirror. She fluffs out her hair.

  "Maybe see what Mr. Tatum says?" Gertrude suggests.

  "He’ll like whatever this one likes," Elle says with authority. "But can we really trust men?"

  "Yes. Or maybe...not?" Gertrude is trying to keep Elle happy and when Frankie glances over into Elle’s open dressing room, she can see why.

  Elle picks up a huge pile of cashmere sweaters and hands it to the shop lady. "I’ll take all of these," Elle says. "Fashion tip: Cashmere is wonderful for sleeping in. Charge my room?"

  She turns back to Frankie. "Well, you’re young. If we can’t make fashion mistakes as teenagers, when can we make them?"

  "I’m twenty-one," Frankie says.

  "Twenty-one? That’s perfect. You can come and work on my show as a production assistant. You do live in Hollywood, don’t you?"

  Another job offer? That makes two. "I’m moving to LA next week."

  "Perfect!" Elle gushes and grabs Frankie’s hands. "Listen, I feel terrible, terrible about what happened this morning."

  Elle tears up. Her eyes are a golden brown, almost yellow in intensity. Frankie feels her heartstrings pull and finds herself nodding.

  "Cliff was the love of my life. But I’ve moved on. I’m seeing the director Antonio Ford now," she giggles. "Did you hear?"

  Frankie nods.

  Elle continues, "I’m going to make it up to you and give you an amazing job on the best show on television. Everything in Hollywood is about who you know. Text me tomorrow. Get my number from Cliff." She flounces out, leaving Gertrude and Frankie in the wake of her perfume.

  "I love these shoes," Frankie says to Gertrude once Elle is gone. They both break into happy grins. "I'll take them."

  "And the dress?" Gertrude looks so hopeful.

  "Yes. I say yes to the dress!"

  14

  Elle Hudson is pretending to be helpless.

  It’s laughable, when you think about it. Elle is capable of shifting into a wolf larger than most of the men i
n the room and devouring them within seconds.

  And yet.

  She’s got Antonio Ford running back and forth across the festival after-party, delivering plates of appetizers, freshening her drink, and fetching whoever she wants at her table.

  Cliff sips his whiskey at the bar, taking a break from the steady stream of conversation.

  Ford is a film director’s film director. He’s a genius, that’s what everyone says. So why is he falling for the oldest trick in the book?

  Elle is holding court in a booth at the front of the restaurant and almost everyone is looking at her.

  He’d love to enjoy the spectacle, but Cliff doesn’t want to give Elle the satisfaction. She’s doing it to get his attention. The last thing he wants is to give it to her.

  Anyway, there is Frankie: chatting with the hotel manager and looking amazing in her dress.

  And here is his bear: making demands he feels less and less inclined to ignore.

  Mate her, man. It’s fated. Just do it.

  "Mating" Frankie has been on his mind ever since she smiled up at him and thanked him for her new outfit. He’s been imagining her out of the dress ever since, her breasts in his mouth, her ass cradled on his lap. Her legs with those glitter heels spread across the bed as he slides into her for the very first time.

  Cliff looks down at the plate of salmon and blueberries in his hands. He keeps inhaling the stuff.

  You’ll make me fat, he accuses his bear. And then where will we be?

  Antonio Ford appears suddenly at his side.

  "Cliff, my good man. Will you join our table?"

  Cliff considers saying no, but he wants the lead in Ford’s film. If he can still get it.

  "Elle wants a word," Ford leans in to confide.

  Great.

  As Cliff slides into the booth with Ford, Elle smiles like the canine predator she is.

  "Careful, babe. Your teeth are showing," Cliff says quietly.

  She closes her mouth and glares at him. "Antonio, darling. My drink?"

  Ford stands. "I get it. A moment alone. Just the exes." He kisses Elle on the lips, throwing a glance toward Cliff as he leaves.

  "You’ll never work with Ford as long as he’s with me, so you can stop fawning over him." Elle shakes her head, which lifts her hair as if a fan were blowing it in a fashion shoot.

  "Who I work with or don’t work with is none of your fucking business, babe."

  "Everything you do until the day you’re living in the gutter will be my business."

  "Gutters are for dogs like you."

  He watches her claws appear on her fingers and knows she is close to losing her temper and shifting.

  She changes courses, smiling maliciously. "Your little whore is going to work for my show. Did she tell you?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Frankie? Is that the slut’s name? I hired her this afternoon. Nothing will make me happier than using her to destroy you."

  "She’s not working for you."

  "Oh, yes, she is. Didn’t you know she’s got ambitions besides driving you around this island?"

  What are Frankie’s ambitions? He honestly doesn’t know. She never told him and he never asked. Is he really that typical?

  Apparently.

  Elle smiles with satisfaction, clearly seeing that she’s scored a direct hit.

  "We’re done," he says, gliding out of the booth just as Ford returns. "Come get a drink with me, Ford."

  They walk to the bar and Cliff orders two scotches, remembering the bottle that Ford brought to his hotel room.

  Cliff decides to be direct.

  "I love your new script and want the lead. Are you going to give it to me?"

  "Absolutely, man," Ford says with passion. "I’ve wanted to work with you ever since Night Gods One."

  "I’m glad to hear that. There’s nothing I want more." He holds out his hand and Ford shakes it.

  "I’ll call your agent tomorrow. I actually wrote this part for you, didn’t Elle tell you? I told her last month."

  Cliff shakes his head.

  "Women," Ford scoffs. "Can’t live with them, can’t make movies without them."

  Cliff smiles. Typical Elle. Even before they broke up she was manipulating everything. "All I can say is, enjoy the ride, Ford."

  "Oh, I always do." Ford smiles and claps Cliff on the back before walking away.

  Cliff looks around the room until he sees Frankie near the exit. She’s deep in conversation with Elle.

  Damn.

  How on earth could Frankie have agreed to work for Elle?

  15

  Elle Hudson makes a good point. "Believe me, if you and Cliff haven’t had sex yet, then he’s not that into you. He looks at you like he’s your big brother. What happened?"

  "I’m just trying to do my job."

  "When Cliff and I first met, we spent two months straight fucking our brains out. He wouldn’t have taken no for an answer." She fans herself, looking into the distance. "Not that I said no to him. Not once."

  "I’m not trying to date him," Frankie insists, wishing it were true. But it’s not. She's falling hard for Cliff.

  "Cliff Tatum is not exactly in your league," Elle says, as if she’s given it great thought. "So why not work for me, then? Why the resistance?"

  "You attacked me!" Frankie flares, even though the charming Elle standing in front of her bears little resemblance to the Elle that grabbed her on the ferry.

  "I apologized for that. Are you really the kind of person who holds a grudge? Because, honestly, you’ll never make it in Hollywood if you can’t forgive and forget, and that’s the honest truth."

  "Why is it so important to you? You don’t even know me."

  "I’m the type of person who likes to help others. Or, haven’t you been watching my show for the last eight years?"

  Of course, everyone in America has watched Elle Hudson and her family expose their every desire and spill their every secret on TV and online. They’re television's biggest stars, even though there's been talk of their show ending next year.

  Erin Hudson is the "smart" sister; Erica Hudson is the "sensitive" sister; Eva Hudson is the "artistic" sister; and Elle Hudson is the "beautiful" sister. But she’s right—Elle is also known for helping people.

  "I’ll think about it," Frankie finally says.

  "Honestly, you should thank me for hiding in Cliff’s closet on Friday and stopping what was clearly about to happen between the two of you. He's not safe, if you know what I mean."

  Frankie’s jaw drops. "What?"

  "You’re lucky you didn’t get some disease." Elle leans in to confide. "You have no idea what I put up with off-camera from that man. Cliff is a sex addict, and that’s not even his worst quality."

  Frankie just blinks at Elle. She doesn’t know what to say.

  "You promise you’ll think about working for me?" Elle presses.

  "Yes, I promise." What can it hurt?

  Cliff and Ford have both offered to help her, but can she count on either of them? And if she doesn't find a job in LA, she might find herself stuck with relatives she doesn't really know. No, thanks.

  "You promise? Yay!" Elle hugs her quickly, then pulls away as Cliff suddenly appears.

  "Promise what?" Cliff growls.

  "Cliff, darling, now don’t be greedy with Frankie here. She needs a job when she gets to Hollywood next week." Elle laughs. "A real job, not driving you all over the place in her Honda."

  "She’s not working for you."

  "I don’t think it’s up to you, darling." Elle smiles in triumph. "Toodles!" she says to Frankie, and then suddenly waves at someone across the room before disappearing into the crowd.

  "You’re an idiot if you let her fool you," Cliff says, frowning down at Frankie.

  "No one’s fooling me."

  "Oh really? You’re working for her? After her crazy behavior?"

  "I just said I’d think about it."

  "Don’t be an idiot," Cl
iff grumbles. He rubs his forehead.

  "You’re the idiot if you think you can tell me what to do." Frankie hates his moodiness.

  "You behave like a child and someone needs to watch out for you."

  "I’ve been taking care of myself for years." She props her hands on her hips.

  "You’re in over your head. She’s a monster, or didn’t you notice when she was throttling you on the ferry?"

  Frankie shakes her head. She feels like a pawn in a game she doesn’t understand. She’s had enough.

  "It’s been a long day," she says. "I’m going back to the bungalow."

  "I’ll walk you back. It’s late," Cliff says gruffly.

  She’s about to argue and tell him that she doesn’t need a chaperone, but instead she says, "Okay." It feels right to leave with Cliff, even after their fight.

  She’s hurt, but rather than being angry, she feels sad, like she’s lost something important before she even had it.

  Once they’ve left the party and are away from the constant observers that hover around him, she feels herself relax.

  Frankie instinctively moves closer to Cliff as they make their way down the path. The storm has passed and the night air is damp and cold. Mist hovers over the hotel grounds, lit up only by shrouded moonlight.

  Cliff stops midway back to the bungalow and turns to her. "Frankie," he starts. "If you need help with finding a job in LA, or anything else for that matter, ask me. I can help you as much as Elle. More, actually, because I’m not trying to secretly destroy you."

  "Thanks, Cliff." Suddenly it seems right to be on the same team with Cliff. "I just thought I would hear her out. I didn’t—"

  "No. I’m an idiot."

  He kisses her tenderly.

  Rising heat floods her body and a gentle affection almost lifts her off the ground as she swoons into Cliff’s kiss.

  Frankie pulls away. "You kissed me."

  "I’m going to do it again too." He leans in and she smiles as his lips hover for a moment before kissing her again. She opens her mouth as he presses deeply into her.

  "What I mean is, why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why are you kissing me?"

  "Isn’t it obvious?" He kisses her again. Frankie feels safe and cared for. It feels good.