The Shifter’s Nanny

by T. S. Ryder

  She had already whipped out her cell phone and Patrick frowned at her.

  "No. I am having an important dinner."

  "Dinner," the girl repeated as she glanced at Piper. Her eyes narrowed, her jealousy clear. She ignored Baxter.

  "Now if you don't mind, I would like if you would let my friends and I discuss our business."

  The girl flushed, took the ticket and scrambled away, shooting death glares over her shoulder at Piper. The witch twisted a napkin in her hands, feeling unnerved from the pure hostility in those glares. Some people were crazy and that girl was certainly one of them… she needed to get herself a proper boyfriend and stop being so obsessed with Patrick.

  Wait, am I jealous? No… I can't be!

  Piper shook off her thoughts and frowned at the hulking Werewolf. "Does that happen often?"

  "Yeah, sorry about that. It happens more often than I'd like, but people usually don't recognize me without fur," he smiled easily, relaxing the mood instantly. "Have you decided what you want yet?"

  "When did I have the time?" Piper muttered, but when Baxter snorted she flushed. "Sorry."

  Patrick grinned at her. "Do you mind if I order for you? I think I know what you'll like."

  It would probably be better if she didn't look at the prices. She nodded. "That would be lovely."

  ***

  The rest of dinner passed without further incident. Piper had never tasted such delicious food before. Everything seemed to sing on her taste buds and she had no idea how she was meant to go back to plain old bread and butter after this. The creamy cheesecake–Patrick had clearly done his research on her tastes–the three of them shared for dessert was so divine that Piper ate half of it by herself before she realized that the Werewolves were just watching her eat.

  Once they were back in the limo, Patrick surprised her by brushing his lips against hers. A jolt went through her and she kissed back, pressing his mouth open, demanding entrance. With a chuckle, he opened his mouth and their tongues danced.

  Baxter pressed kisses to her neck and shoulders, slowly unzipping her dress. She let one sleeve come off, gasping when Patrick's hand cupped her breast, toying with the lacy fabric of her bra.

  Oh, God! Are we really doing this? Piper forced herself to break the kiss and cover herself again, though the heat flooding her body begged her not to.

  "I need to understand more," she blurted. "If this happens, is it just between the two of us? I mean, are you both going to be mated to me or will you be mated to each other again?"

  Baxter slid back a little. Without his warmth pressed against her, she shivered. "I assumed we would… But I suppose a definite answer is needed."

  "Of course," Patrick said. "That's the purpose of a trois amour."

  His mouth caught hers again. Pleasure flooded Piper's senses, drowning out the voice in her mind that said she wasn't ready for this. She pushed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Baxter returned to her shoulders, moaning. It felt so, so good.

  By the time they came to the house, Piper's lacy red thong had been discarded and Baxter knelt between her legs, his skillful tongue making her want to scream. Her dress bunched at her middle, Patrick was worshiping her breasts.

  There wasn't enough room in the limo for what they wanted, so Piper hastily covered herself up again and the three of them rushed to the house.

  The cold air slapped some sense into her, though. When the door closed behind them and Baxter tried to pull her and Patrick to the bedroom, she dug in her heels and shook her head.

  "I'm sorry." Her face flushed as she saw the desire in the Werewolves' eyes. "I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I'm just… I'm not sure I can commit to forever. I'm sorry."

  Both of them looked disappointed and Baxter wrapped his arms around her.

  "I'm sorry, too," Patrick managed a small smile. "I promised I would be patient and I wasn't. I suppose I just didn't want to be alone tonight… if I promise to behave myself, can I stay? I'll sleep on the couch."

  Piper bit her lip. She liked Patrick. She didn't want to hurt him, even though she knew at this point the only way not to do that was to accept him as her second mate. But would that hurt even worse down the road? Tears welled in her eyes. Why did life have to be so damn complicated?

  "If I decide that I can't do a three-person relationship in the end, it'll just be more painful if we keep pushing things to be together."

  "If I leave now, I might do something I regret," Patrick gestured to the bulge in his pants. "I'll take a cold shower and sleep on the couch."

  "You can sleep in our bed with us," Baxter said suddenly.

  Piper's jaw dropped. "But—"

  "If we put on a show for him it's not mating," he said.

  "But there's the same problem, that if this doesn't end well then—"

  "Then we'll have the memories," Baxter interrupted and somehow it sounded like the most reasonable thing in the world. "I want to do this, Piper. Please."

  "I won't touch either of you," Patrick said, his voice hoarse and deeper than normal.

  Piper hesitated. Baxter always did everything for her. It was so easy to be selfish with him because he never insisted on his own way.

  "I can handle it," Patrick added.

  Baxter touched her lips. "Please."

  His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark with desire. He pressed a kiss to her lips, so fiery and passionate Piper felt all her defenses breaking down. God, she wanted this night…

  "Okay," she said. "But I hope we don't regret this in the morning."

  Chapter Six

  Baxter had already gone to work by the time Piper woke up the next morning. She stretched her body, which was still feeling jelly-like from the previous night and grinned. That had been intense!

  She had been afraid that desire would overcome good sense, but Patrick had stood at the end of the bed watching them, hands gripping the footboard and hadn't moved. It had been a little awkward at first, but at the same time, it was thrilling. Piper never thought she would like being watched, but it had made everything much more… explosive.

  Breakfast was waiting for her after she showered and dressed. Piper's eyes widened at the spread. Pancakes, waffles, French toast, bacon, sausages. Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled.

  "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Patrick said, pulling out a chair for her.

  "You cook?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

  "My parents said that my hockey career wouldn't go anywhere, so I went to college to be a chef. I enjoyed cooking. I actually own a couple of restaurants in the city. But once I got onto the hockey team here, it was like all my dreams came true and I retired my apron. Except for special customers," he grinned at her, sitting across the table. "How do you feel this morning?"

  "How do I feel in general or how to I feel about a polyamorous relationship?"

  "Either."

  "I feel… hungry."

  It was all she wanted to say on the matter and so she began eating. Patrick laughed but left it at that. They chatted about his home life for a while. Both his parents were still alive and lived up north in Edmonton and they were both proud of his achievements–although they were prouder of his successful business ventures than they were of his hockey skills. He had the two restaurants, plus quite a bit of other successful investments.

  "So you're like… rich?" Piper asked cautiously.

  "Well… I suppose you could say that. Does that change things?"

  "I don't know… I don't want to be a gold-digger," Piper picked at her food, suddenly nervous. "So when you bought my painting of Baxter and commissioned another one—"

  "I like your work. I wasn't trying to bribe you. But the three of us would be comfortable and I'd want to take care of you."

  "The truth is I'm not sure if I could handle it. I mean, Baxter is so mellow and you're… well, you're kind of demanding."

  Patrick had the decency to look abashed. He bit i
nto a sausage and glanced up through his lashes, long and thick, almost feminine, at her.

  "That's the Alpha in me. I do what I want, I take what I want and I want to lavish the ones I care for. Sometimes I forget that my way isn't the only way."

  "And when you and Bax kissed last night it made me a little jealous."

  "And seeing you and him together made me jealous. I'm sure he felt the same way when you and I kissed. I thought it made things more exciting. A little jealousy is healthy for a relationship. As long as it doesn't get to Othello levels."

  Everything he said sounded so damn convincing. Piper finished her breakfast, thinking hard. Maybe this was going to be a good thing. Maybe she didn't have anything to be worried about.

  "Okay, she said slowly. "So why did you pick me and Baxter? It's something I don't really get."

  Patrick leaned back, studying her. "I've seen you two off and on at games over the years. I've always liked the way you two looked at each other. And then, at that last game, I heard Baxter screaming and I was distracted. I'm never distracted while I'm on the ice. Then our eyes met and I scored a goal while looking at you, and I just knew."

  Piper couldn't help but giggle. "Because you scored a goal? Don't you do that a million times every season?"

  "Because I was ready to take the risk of getting my heart broken and I knew that you two were worth the risk. It's a wolf thing."

  "Baxter said the same thing about why he started talking to me during prom," Piper smiled at the memory.

  "Anything else?"

  "I'm full, thanks."

  "I meant other concerns." Patrick's smile widened.

  "I'll have to think about that. But I ought to get to the gallery. Lots of work to do."

  Only that wasn't going to be the case.

  ***

  Piper stared around in horror. Glass crunched beneath her feet, the only sound besides the beating of her heart that could work itself into her brain. This could not be real. It couldn't be happening. She was in a nightmare, a terrible, terrible nightmare that she would wake up from at any moment.

  All the gallery windows had been smashed. The display cases smashed. Ceramics had been thrown to the ground, kicked to pieces. The paintings were slashed, ribbons of canvas hanging in their frames. Stone sculptures were cracked in half, and the metal ones had been blasted by magic, reducing them to twisted heaps.

  Piper covered her mouth with a hand, her stomach churning.

  Worse was when the police came and told her the new security system hadn't engaged. It appeared to have not been turned on at all. No magical tampering found.

  She could have sworn she turned on the system when she left the gallery the previous day. She played it over and over in her mind. Had she made a mistake? Had the installers? What was she going to do now? She had all her hopes tied up in this art, and now that it was gone she'd had to pay the artists for the damage.

  Piper closed her eyes and drowned out the sound of glass crunching beneath her feet. It's insured. It's insured.

  ***

  "The police report clearly indicates that the security system was not engaged," the insurance broker said, looking sympathetic but unyielding. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you."

  Piper wanted to hex the little man but somehow managed to find her feet and leave the insurance offices without a meltdown. Adding jail time for hexing these people would not help her situation at all. Her blood pumped through her ears and she didn't know what to do now, so she walked along the frozen streets until her face and hands were as numb as her soul.

  She'd lost everything.

  Worse, she'd lost tens of thousands of dollars' worth of art that was only in her shop on commission. The angry artists who had trusted her were demanding their cut of the money had their art been sold. The landlord she rented the space from was demanding that she pay for the property damage since it was her fault the security system hadn't done its job.

  That was still something she just could not figure out. She knew she had set the security system before locking up. That was one thing she would never, ever forget to do, and yet for all purposes, it appeared that she had.

  She was ruined for life. Her art degree was useless for getting a job in this town and it would take the rest of her life to pay off these debts.

  Patrick flicked into her mind, but she shoved thoughts of him away. She wasn't going to take his money if she was going to decide against the trois amour and she wasn't going to agree to a three-way mating just so that she wouldn't feel guilty about taking his money.

  After phoning Baxter so he wouldn’t worry, Piper went to a bar. Somewhere in her brain she knew this was a bad idea, knew she couldn't afford to get drunk at this time–both literally and metaphorically–but she didn't care. She just didn't want to think.

  But she did think.

  After one beer she thought, I bet Thor Wragge was behind this somehow. He got tired of trying to bully me out and decided to destroy my life instead.

  After two beers, I turned on that security system. He must have learned the codes and turned it off. He was spying on me that whole time. That's how he knew to take my mother's painting.

  After three beers, He probably bribed the people at the security place. He found out exactly how to stop it from engaging and broke in the night before to put a paperclip or something in it so it wouldn't engage when I turned the system on. That's what he did.

  Four. And then he waited until nighttime when nobody was around and broke in.

  Five. He destroyed everything. Oh, god, what am I going to do now? How can I get out of this? Can I declare bankruptcy? Will my debts just transfer over to Baxter?

  Six. Bastard! I hate him. It's not like I was any real competition to him anyway!

  Seven. I'm going to make him pay.

  It was very late by this time, but as Piper left the bar she didn't seem to feel the cold. She also seemed to be full of energy and walked to where she knew Wragge lived. He lived in the pretty suburbs with their trees and Christmas decorations still up. She walked true and strong, although some stupid assholes occasionally drove on the sidewalk.

  Once she reached Wragge's house, she was at a loss. If I had eggs, I'd have something to do to him. Wait a minute. I have magic!

  It took a moment for her to remember the spell, then waved her hand above the space over his house, creating two large neon signs that brightened the whole street. Vandal, the signs flashed, thief.

  Piper giggled, enjoying the buzz of alcohol in her brain. She painted a scene with her magic, Thor Wragge naked with a stupid look on his face. She made sure to give him a teeny tiny member. Then she painted flames all around him, crackling and seething. Go to hell.

  Wragge stormed out of his house, tying a robe. He scowled at the sight of her. Piper drew her hands back.

  "Loqui quasi hedum!" she shouted, pointing all her fingers at the enraged man. A bolt of green light shot from her hands and struck Wragge's throat.

  He stumbled back, eyes going wide, clawing at his neck. He opened his mouth— "Baa!"

  Piper laughed. She quickly added donkey ears and a curly pig tail. "Act like an animal, become an animal!" she shouted. "Act like an animal, become an animal! Act like an animal, become an animal! Go to hell, Wragge!"

  Chapter Seven

  Wragge was pressing charges this time. Vandalism and magical assault.

  Fortunately, Piper was let out on bail, as long as she promised that she wasn't going to drink a drop of alcohol and that Baxter wasn't going to leave her alone. It would mean having to go to work with him until after her sentencing, but Piper supposed that was probably the best thing to happen, anyway.

  It wasn't like she had anything else to do.

  Both Patrick and Baxter came to the jail to pay the bond. Piper stared at her feet as they escorted her back to Patrick's shiny car. She could feel the disappointment rolling off her male, but Patrick seemed rather calm about the whole thing.

  "My lawyers are workin
g on your case," he said as he drove them towards their home. "I'm sure they can get the sentence down to malicious magical pranking, rather than assault. They're very good. If you keep your nose clean from now on, they've assured me that you'll just have to do some community service."

  Piper slumped down, folding her arms, and frowned out the window. "Until they give me a fine I can't pay, then they're going to lock me up for the rest of my life."

  "You don't go to jail for life over something like this," Patrick reached to pat her knee and she pulled away from him.

  "Don't touch me!"

  A hurt look briefly flashed into Patrick's eyes and he withdrew.

  Baxter leaned between the two seats. "Piper doesn't like to be touched or reassured when she's in a funk. It's better to just let her ride it out."

  "Really?" Patrick's brows furrowed.

  "Yeah. It's my nature to try to make people feel better. But she'll bite off your head for it until she's ready."

  "She is sitting right here," Piper snapped. "I want to walk home."

  The Werewolves ignored her, although they stopped discussing her surly flaws, which was a plus.

  Piper glared out of the window, certain that everybody was stopping and staring at her, knowing what had happened. Uphoria wasn't small enough that everybody knew everybody, but Piper's family was from the town and both sets of grandparents were also born in Uphoria, so a lot of people did know her and would be talking about this.

  She wondered, suddenly, how many of them would blame her relationship with a Werewolf for her lack of self-control. Her hands curled as she imagined what they would be saying about Baxter because of this and she wanted to jump out of the car and dare them all to fight her.

  Probably not the best thing to do.

  When they got home, Piper went to the bedroom and closed herself in the closet. It was dark and roomy, perfect for hiding away in. She heard Baxter and Patrick's voices murmuring from the kitchen but was able to focus on her own thoughts.

  Did she regret going after Wragge the way she had? Yes. It had been stupid, impulsive and now had her in even more trouble than before. But she was still certain that he had something to do with all this. How was she supposed to prove it?