Shifter Secrets: Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  Asher didn’t lift his head from the steering wheel until he was totally at peace. Cranking the car, he backed out of the parking space and pulled out of the garage. He tuned the radio to a station playing some sort of new age jazz that was soothing and had some electronic elements to it. It was a strange mix, but he enjoyed it. It was the sort of music that held your attention but not for very long, allowing your mind to wander while tapping along to the beat, not realizing you were doing so. He focused on the peace he felt, continuing to breathe deeply and relishing the sanctity of his own mind being free of clutter and anxiety for the moment.

  He rolled down the windows to enjoy the night air. Why did the breeze always feel better when you were near the coast? It somehow felt cleaner and nostalgic of memories he couldn’t pinpoint and frankly didn’t want to. When he came to a stoplight, he peered up at the nearly clear sky and tried to count as many stars as he could before the light changed. If he stayed up all night, he wanted to stay just like this. It was just as refreshing as a good night’s sleep, if not more so.

  Then, he came to a four-way stop. He idly tried to decide which road to take, but when he looked to his right, Asher’s entire body froze. Something in him was telling him to go that way. It wasn’t just a small, subconscious suggestion—it was something deep within his bones, as if something was pulling him in that direction, beckoning him. He blinked rapidly, wondering if his exhaustion was starting to set in. It didn’t appear that way. Yes, he was tired, but not utterly drained to the point where his mind would play tricks on him.

  Confused, and perhaps even a little dazed at that point, Asher started in that direction. The feeling didn’t go away, but actually grew stronger the further he got down the road. Was this the awakening he had been hoping for? The only way to know for sure was to follow his intuition and see where it took him.

  9

  Olive tossed and turned for hours on end, unable to empty her head of the thoughts and emotions that swirled within it like a hurricane. The few times exhaustion gripped her and made her doze off, it wouldn’t be long before she ripped herself awake to escape horrible and gory nightmares. Eventually, she gave up on the notion of sleeping and stared up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. Her thoughts bounced back and forth between hers and Esme’s conversation and all the memories she held with Asher. How could he have faked a love that seemed so damn real? It had been as true to her as the fact that the sky was blue.

  Esme slept soundly, as always, in the other bed. The utter stillness of the room was unnerving Olive entirely. She was desperate for a distraction, but she didn’t dare turn on the television; she didn’t want to wake Esme when she knew how much the girl would be driving the next day. Her phone wasn’t any solace, either. Having to stay under the radar meant that Olive wasn’t on any kind of social media, other than a very basic account under a pseudonym so she could get babysitting and housekeeping jobs. Playing the little puzzle games on her phone only fueled her ever-growing frustration.

  She had to get out of her own head.

  Knowing that lying there for the rest of the night wouldn’t help, Olive quietly got out of her bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, along with a t-shirt and a light jacket that was two sizes too big to protect her arms from the cool night air. Snagging a room key from the tiny manila envelope on the kitchenette counter, Olive left a brief note on the back of a receipt to let Esme know she was okay and just going for a walk. She didn’t want Esme freaking out and going on a manhunt if she were to wake up during the short time Olive was gone.

  Discretely slipping out of the motel room, Olive walked toward the end of the parking lot and looked all around. Picking a direction, she headed down the sidewalk. Simply getting out of the room, and perhaps away from Esme, did distract her for a bit, but only for so long. As easily as the thoughts had come to her in the motel, they also came as she walked alone in the middle of the quiet, desolate town. She decided to look for anything that was open, needing even the slightest bit of normalcy and distraction, even if that meant browsing a gas stations drink cooler for ten minutes.

  Turning a corner, Olive noticed a building with its lights still on. A twenty-four-hour diner. She grimaced, still far too upset to even think about eating. She could at least go in and get a soda or something, chat with the waitress and leave a nice tip. It seemed like her only option, and at least it was one that could eat up some time, let her calm down.

  Stepping into the diner was like stepping into another decade. It was fifties-themed, with black and white tiles, wood panels lining the bottom half of the walls, and a surplus of fifties memorabilia displayed on the walls. To top it all off, it had an old-fashioned jukebox against the far wall, complete with yellow tube lighting. The aroma of pancakes and coffee hit her at once, and Henry stirred.

  “Okay, okay, little guy,” Olive murmured to herself. Despite not wanting to eat, she knew she needed to. A waitress with frizzy ginger hair wrangled into a ponytail and adorned with a mustard yellow dress and bright red apron, clearly in her forties, came from around the counter.

  “Take a seat wherever you like, sweetheart,” she called, grabbing a menu from a slot next to the register. Olive opted for a place next to the window, glancing up and down the street to see if anything else from that angle was open. Just in case she still had a busy mind when she left the diner. “Can I get you started with a decaf?” the waitress asked. Olive turned her chin to see the woman, whose name tag indicated her name was Jackie, smiling down at her with that particular smile strangers gave when they were hinting at her being pregnant.

  “Do you guys have tea, by any chance?”

  “Sure thing, sweetie. Here,” Jackie started, placing the menu down in front of her. “You take a look and I’ll be right back with that. Want some lemon for your tea?” Olive nodded appreciatively before Jackie stepped away.

  Taking in a deep breath, Olive flipped through the menu. She had never been a big meat eater, only really indulging during the holidays, and apparently, Henry wasn’t a fan, either. By the time Jackie returned with her hot tea, Olive had decided on a strawberry French toast plate with a side of hash browns.

  “How far along are ya?” Jackie asked as she finished jotting down Olive’s order.

  “Almost seven months,” she candidly responded, producing a faint smile.

  Jackie’s cigarette-stained teeth flashed at her, and she rested a hand on the back of the booth. “Boy or girl?”

  “It’s going to be a surprise, but… my friend and I are fairly certain it’s a boy.” This time, Olive’s smile was genuine and rested a hand on her ever-expanding stomach.

  “Well, congratulations. You look absolutely radiant, darlin’,” Jackie complimented her, her grin stretching so wide that her crow’s feet deepened. “You remind me so much of my daughter, but boy, is she not ready for anything like that. I think I’d have a stroke if she told me she was pregnant!” A whooping, raspy laugh sounded from her. Olive withdrew inward a bit, feeling a smidgen of judgment. She knew she was a young mom, being only twenty-two, but she wasn’t too young. She was a college graduate, and—

  Her thoughts were cut short by the waitress. “That’s no dig at you, either. You look like you’re a bright young woman, and you look just right. Motherly. My child is a wild one, you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Well, thank you,” Olive responded, a light blush conquering her cheeks. “I definitely don’t have it all together, but I’m making the best of it.”

  “Sweetie, I’m sure you will,” Jackie beamed. “I’ll go put this order in for you. Holler if you need anything.”

  Olive sat, tracing little circles over the fabric of her shirt. Even though her thoughts had been defensive at the beginning of the interaction, now she actually felt a bit better about herself. Of course, the woman didn’t know her or how complicated her story was, but her sentiment held a grain of truth. Olive was a smart young woman, and she was going to figure everything out for her and her son. She also realized how much
of a compliment it was to be told you looked motherly.

  Standing from the booth, Olive walked over to the jukebox and browsed the sections. She slid several quarters into the coin slot and selected a line-up of Little Richard, The Everly Brothers, and, of course, Elvis Presley. She avoided as many heartache songs as she could but couldn’t resist selecting, Are You Lonesome Tonight by Elvis for the last song. In her childhood, her parents would listen to it in the car, and her dad would so hilariously recite the spoken parts to her mom in a horrendous, sultry voice, completing it with a cocked brow, as Elvis was known for. Olive wanted to hold onto those memories, and she hopefully would, instead of crying into her hash browns.

  As she waited for her food, she gently swayed from side to side to the sweet music and closed her eyes. Her hand never left her stomach, the tiny kicks of Henry keeping her present. That was all she wanted to be: present, not trapped inside her own mind. She zeroed in on feeling him. Before she was pregnant, she had really had no idea it would feel so strange and foreign, albeit spiritual. There was something so mystic about the connection she had with him. It was unearthly. She hadn’t truly felt pregnant, beyond the horrendous nausea and cramping, until the first time he kicked. It had taken the abstract idea of having a child and made it a reality. He was real, and he was all hers.

  When the plate of food was sat in front of her, Olive’s mouth literally watered at the smell of the cinnamon and maple. Thanking the waitress, she dug in, taking her time to savor each bite. Everything going on in her life melted away somewhere in the far distance. Coming to the diner had actually brought her the peace she had so desperately searched for. Olive had hopes that, once she had finished the hearty helpings, she would be ready to sluggishly make her way back to the motel and collapse onto her bed. Henry kicked happily as she ate before lulling to rest by the end of the meal. Olive already had the feeling he was going to be such a sweet, sweet little boy. It brought the smile back to her face.

  “Glad the food perked you up, darlin’. You looked ready to burst into tears when you came in,” Jackie spoke as she approached the table. Olive let out a content sigh.

  “I guess I just needed a good meal and didn’t know it. Thank you.” Jackie batted away the thanks and placed the check in front of Olive before clearing the plate and silverware from the table, leaving Olive with her tea. Reaching into the small handbag she carried with her, Olive fished out her wallet and began counting the bills, making sure to add in a generous tip. Sure, she stressed about money, but the few extra dollars spent were so worth it.

  A tingle traveled up the length of Olive’s spine as she counted the money, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her chest tightened, but not from panic. Olive froze, fingers still between the dollar bills. Why does that feel so familiar? She had experienced it a lot, it seemed, but not in a long while. Trying to rationalize it, Olive looked about, starting with the back of her seat to see if something could have tickled her. Looking up at the ceiling, she searched for an air vent, thinking it could have been a sudden gust of air conditioning. There was one right overhead, but that wouldn’t have caused her chest to tighten. It wasn’t a tightening; more like a… a squeeze. Gentle and warm, providing her with comfort—but how?

  As her eyes panned around, her head immediately snapped toward the window. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes were as wide as they could be. She was staring at a tall man as pale as snow, with jet black curls disheveled on the top of his head. That can’t be… There’s no way…

  The man didn’t seem to spot her, standing at the side of his car and checking his phone before heading for the door to the diner. There was a tiny window of opportunity for Olive to bolt, to run into the bathroom and wait for him to leave before exiting herself. Esme would’ve been screaming at her, gripping her arm to pull her away. Esme wasn’t there, though, and Olive was rooted to the vinyl booth. The most she did was pull her jacket tight around her. In her mind, she chanted that it wasn’t him; her eyes were just playing tricks on her. She was tired and needed to go to bed.

  When the door opened, and a gust of air traveled in with him, Olive knew. It was, in fact, Asher. She felt insane, but she could always sense him, just like she had a second ago. With her eyes glued to him, she watched as Asher, too, froze in the doorway. He stood still for what felt like forever but was surely just a couple of seconds. Then his eyes fell directly on her. His body seemed to give way for a moment, having to straighten his posture to regain his composure. Jackie began calling to him to sit wherever he liked, but her voice died out as she noticed him and Olive staring at one another.

  It was as though Asher had to force every tiny movement, like his body also wanted to remain locked into place. Ever so slowly, however, he took steps toward her. As he neared, Olive could actually see his chest rising and falling rapidly. His smoldering brown eyes were glossy. When he was finally at the other side of the table, his hand resting on the back of the booth, Olive somehow found it in herself to speak.

  “Hi, Asher.”

  10

  Asher hardly blinked, fearing that if his eyes were closed, Olive would disappear before him. Her tiny squeak of a greeting, as nervous and quiet as it had been, opened the floodgate of memories he had been trying so hard to keep tightly shut. Asher clenched and unclenched his jaw to keep himself from crying. What man cries so easily? He heard his father’s voice taunt in the back of his mind. For the first time, it didn’t even get to him. The tears were justified.

  “May I sit with you?” he asked, voice huskier than usual as he held back the emotion in it. Olive responded with a small, tight nod of her head. With eyes still on her, he slid into the booth across from her.

  God, she was radiant. Her skin was slightly sun-kissed from whatever adventures she had been on since the last time they had seen one another. It caused her freckles to be darker, and it was so freaking adorable. Olive’s hair—not quite caramel and not quite sand, but rather somewhere in the middle—had grown so long. While they had been dating, she had kept it right at her shoulders, but now the gentle waves fell to right below her breasts. Asher longed to hold her and take in the scent of her hair, embed it into his memory once again.

  However, as he stared, still encompassed by the magnetic energy which flowed between them, pain and betrayal prickled underneath his skin. Olive was alive and well, and she had just vanished. Why? How could she do that to him? What reason could she have had? Asher should have been angry upon finding her, demanding answers, but he wasn’t. Her beautiful face was composed the best it could be, but he could see her own hurt lingering just beneath the surface. Even then, he loathed to see her in a single ounce of pain.

  Olive shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, tugging the light gray jacket tighter around her before crossing her arms.

  “How did you find me? Are you following me?” she finally spoke. He could tell she was trying to keep a flat tone, but her voice was meek, and her lip was already quivering slightly.

  “I swear to you, I’m not,” Asher assured her. “This is just…” Fate, destiny, luck. “A coincidence. A remarkably unexpected one at that.”

  She was fast to rebut. “What coincidences are expected?”

  A corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to bring on a smile. She had a quick wit about her, even though she didn’t acknowledge it. Asher pursed his lips to resist the urge before replying, “Touché, but I swear, this is just a bizarre coincidence.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I’m here on business,” he plainly explained. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either.

  “In a tiny town in the middle of nowhere?” Olive prodded further. She was coming out of her shock and was trying to put on a brave face. Why did it seem like she thought Asher was out to get her? He had given up his search for her four months ago.

  “Well, we’re actually in one of the biggest towns on business. Just couldn’t sleep, so I drove around and ended up here.
” His gaze fixated on her immaculate green eyes. So easily, he could get lost in them for unknown periods of time. Right then, he was searching them for clues, any hints of what in the world was going on in her head. “How about you? How did you end up in a tiny town, in a diner at three in the morning?”

  “Esme and I are on a road trip. Couldn’t sleep, so I walked over here.” After the words left Olive’s mouth, Asher could tell she wished she could suck them back in. Olive had been honest without meaning to be. She was still trying to keep a wall up with him. He was going to break that wall down if it was the last thing he did.

  Asher couldn’t help but sour a little, knowing that her best friend was with her. They had fled town together. Had it been Esme’s idea? He had never met the woman, but Olive had shared plenty about her to paint a picture. A drifter who was rough around the edges, crass, overly sarcastic, and more than likely indulged in too much drinking for Asher’s liking to be around his love. Had that heathen filled Olive’s head with doubts and convinced her to skip town? Esme had been unnervingly jealous of his and Olive’s relationship. There had been many nights when Olive would be with him and Esme would call and beg her to come out with her. Asher’s keen ears had been able to pick up on the voice on the phone saying, “To hell with that guy.”

  Reluctantly, Asher closed his eyes. He was getting angry, but not at Olive. He didn’t want her to think that. It was Esme. She had been the thorn in the side of their relationship. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Probably because he assumed there had to be some sort of tragedy for Olive to leave without a word. Perhaps she would try to deny it at that point, but Asher knew she felt the exact same way about him as he did for her. When he opened his eyes again, seeing her still sitting there watching him eased his temper.