The Griffin's Mate

by Zoe Chant

  Harrison raised his pint in a toast. “Here’s to your first visit to Hideaway Cove,” he said.

  Lainie’s mouth quirked, as though she was about to say something, but she just smiled and clinked her wine glass against Harrison’s.

  He tucked into his meal, a triple serving of chowder with a side of pan-fried bass and a sprinkling of salad. Lainie began to pick at her own food, apparently encouraged by his appetite.

  The break gave Harrison a chance to think, though thinking in the face of so much of Caro’s delicious food was a difficulty at the best of times. With food and his mate in front of him? It was almost impossible.

  He glanced down at Arlo, who was making short work of his meal with resigned determination. If Lainie had noticed that the waitress had placed a bowl of prime beef in front of the “dog,” she didn’t say anything.

  In the ten years Harrison had lived in Hideaway, he’d seen maybe a couple of dozen human visitors to the town, not including the regular visits from county officials. Everyone in Hideaway knew to keep the town’s secret safe from outsiders. But so far as Harrison knew, no one had ever recognized an outsider as their mate.

  If old Mr. Mackaby had still been around, Harrison could have talked to him about it. Arlo thought he should bring it up with Caro, which seemed like a good idea. Until he’d stepped into the restaurant, and seen his mate sitting at the window table.

  Lainie. Lainie Eaves. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

  Well, so much for Plan A. Plan B—wine and dine a beautiful woman, in the best restaurant in the best town on the coast—was going perfectly.

  He didn’t want Lainie to think he was staring at her, but he couldn’t help shooting quick glances her way. She ate quietly and neatly, with small bites, and Harrison was struck by a sudden vision of them both together, in front of a roaring fire, eating together in the quiet comfort of long familiarity.

  His pulse quickened. Beneath his skin, his griffin chirruped with contentment.

  For the last ten years, Harrison had felt a hole in his heart. He’d lost both his parents suddenly when he was in his teens, and with them dead, his home—their nest—had lost its soul. He’d left the empty home in the hopes of finding someone to fill that hole.

  His parents, both griffin shifters, had had the perfect marriage, and all Harrison wanted out of his life was a mate he could love as his parents had loved one another. To have his mate at his side, in a warm, cozy home he had built with his own hands. Every plank, every nail, every stick of furniture lovingly crafted by him, for her.

  A nest, warm, safe and secure.

  And this was it. This was her.

  Maybe it was a good thing he’d met Lainie in person for the first time here, around so many other people. If they’d been on their own, he might have blurted out what he was imagining, and left her thinking he was drunk, insane, or both.

  Harrison took a deep breath, bracing himself. He was lucky his griffin had always been a placid creature, content for him to spend most of his time in human form, even here where people were free to take their animal forms whenever they pleased. Even now, meeting his mate, it was happy for him to take the lead.

  Given what he’d heard about other shifters’ reactions when they met their mates, he was glad. There were so many curious eyes on the two of them as they ate. A more aggressive shifter might have taken offense. He didn’t want Lainie’s first impression of him to be ‘that guy who picked me up in his talons and spirited me away to his lair’.

  Not that he had a lair, unless the rooms above his workshop counted.

  Lainie cleared her throat, instantly getting Harrison’s attention.

  “So, I guess you don’t get many visitors here?” Lainie’s expression was neutral, but her gaze flicked to the window, which reflected the room. Harrison didn’t need to look around to see his friends and neighbors sneaking glances at the two of them. He didn’t blame Lainie for feeling unsettled.

  “Not a lot,” he said. It was only a small white lie. Hideaway Cove did see some tourists, hence the existence of the solitary B&B. But they were all shifters, friends or family of the people who lived here already. A human visitor was as rare as hen’s teeth. Or as rare as a griffin shifter, maybe.

  Lainie slumped almost imperceptibly. Harrison noticed her eyes darken, as though she was resigning herself to her status as the object of the other townspeople’s keen interest.

  Harrison leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially. “Want to get out of the spotlight? I can give you a private tour of the town, if you like. You won’t be able to see much in the dark, but the lights on the water are worth a look.”

  This time, Lainie was too slow to catch the smile that darted across her lips. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Accepting an invitation is hardly intruding,” Harrison argued gently. His heart glowed as Lainie smiled, the last traces of her reluctance melting away like sea-mist in the sunlight.

  “All right,” she said. “If you insist! I’ll just settle my bill.”

  “No need. I’ll let Caro know to add it to my tab.” Lainie looked like she was about to protest, so Harrison raised his hands in a gesture of surrender—and refused to back down. “You’re my guest! Please, let me make up for my dog stinking up your dinner.”

  *Hey, man, that’s not fair!*

  “Oh, your dog isn’t…” Lainie shook herself, and held up her hands in mock defeat. “Okay. Thank you. That’s very kind of you, even though we both know your dog isn’t stinking up anything.”

  Her dark eyes flashed at Harrison as she gathered up her purse and coat, sending shivers down his spine. He caught Caro’s eye across the room.

  *Add her bill to mine, will you, Caro?*

  He didn’t wait for Caro’s response. Lainie was struggling with her coat and he leapt up to help her into it.

  By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. He was already standing behind her, the soft wool of her coat in his hands and the scent of her body in his nostrils. She was wearing a floral perfume, but he could just smell the real her underneath the artificial scent.

  Harrison closed his eyes, biting back a groan. Steeling himself, he quickly slipped the coat over Lainie’s shoulders and stepped back.

  “Thanks,” said Lainie.

  Was it his imagination, or did she sound slightly breathless?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LAINIE

  Lainie caught her breath. She could still feel the memory of Harrison’s hands on her shoulders. They had only rested there for a split second, but that had been enough to set her heart pounding. She looked back at him over her shoulder as she did up the buttons of her coat.

  “Thanks,” she said. Harrison gave her a brief smile, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Do you have a coat?”

  He laughed softly. “I don’t feel the cold. Shirtsleeves unless it’s snowing, that’s me.”

  Lainie shivered at the thought. “Does it snow here?” she asked as they walked to the door. She could still feel eyes on her back, and a knot of worry formed in her stomach. Is walking out of here with a guy I just met really the best way to prevent people gossiping about me?

  Well, it was too late to back out now. And besides, she didn’t want to back out. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had shown any interest in her, let alone been so obvious about it. And gentlemanly.

  Maybe I don’t have to make every decision based on what I think other people think I should do, she thought firmly.

  Another thought struck her as Harrison held the door open.

  “Oh—what about your dog?”

  Harrison slapped his hand to his forehead and looked back to where his dog was sitting patiently by their table. The dog stared back.

  “Uh, he’ll be fine here. Caro will look after him.”

  “Oh.” The knot in Lainie’s stomach grew a few extra tangles. “Are you and Caro…?” And if you are, have I just totally got the wrong signals off you right now?

/>   “Me and—? Oh, no. I mean, the dog isn’t really my dog. He’s sort of the town stray. We all look after him. And I know he’d prefer snoozing in front of the fire in here tonight over curling up under my workbench back home.”

  Well, that sounds at least somewhat believable. She took one last look at the dog sitting forlornly by their table. Except he wasn’t sitting forlornly anymore. He’d made his way to the next table, and was enduring a head-scratch from a screeching toddler in exchange for the kid’s leftovers.

  Beside her, Harrison snorted. “Scrounger.”

  Lainie laughed. She hadn’t noticed before, but the dog wasn’t wearing a collar. That, along with its generally bedraggled appearance, and the way it didn’t seem to even notice Harrison was leaving, were enough proof for her that Harrison wasn’t trying to pull the wool over her eyes.

  “So, where to first?” she asked, stepping out into the brisk night air.

  Dusk had been falling when Lainie arrived at the restaurant, and by now, night had truly fallen. The streets were empty.

  Everyone must be either at home, or behind us in the restaurant, Lainie thought.

  Lainie pushed her hands into her coat pockets. The breeze coming off the water was chillier than she had expected when she packed for her overnight trip.

  But it wasn’t like I was expecting to go on a moonlit walk along the waterfront when I was picking out clothes, she thought, suddenly giddy. She looked up at the night sky. No moon stared back. Well. A starlit walk, at least.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Harrison stepped up beside her on the sidewalk. “You wouldn’t believe we had a massive storm only a few days ago.”

  “Really?” Lainie asked. “I haven’t seen a cloud in the sky all day.”

  “Sure. They come down quickly at this time of year. That one dumped so much water on us, I was worried the whole town would float out to sea.”

  Lainie looked around. The sky was clear, and bright with stars; around her, what she could see of the surrounding buildings by the light of the streetlamps looked undamaged. “There wasn’t any damage, I hope?”

  “Oh, we have enough storms this time of year that any buildings that were going to slip off their foundations would have done it years ago. The worst that happened was a fuse blew in the ice cream parlor.”

  “Sounds tragic!”

  “It very nearly was,” Harrison agreed solemnly. “Luckily, my team was ready to spring into action.”

  “Your team?”

  “I run a—well, sort of a Jack-of-all-trades workshop. I told you I took over the local building company? Well, apart from me, there’s Pol, our local electrician, and Arlo, who you—uh, who looks after any boat work that needs doing. He runs the storage facility you must’ve driven past on your way into town, too.”

  “Sounds like between you, you keep this town running,” Lainie said.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. There are more important town institutions. Caro’s chowder, for one.”

  “A town that runs on chowder? I can believe that, it was probably the best I’ve ever tasted. And thanks for reminding me, I’ll need to make time to see your friend Arlo tomorrow, about a storage container.” Lainie swept her hair back behind one ear. “So—what’s the first stop on this tour?”

  “A storage container?” Harrison’s eyes lit up. “I’ve gotta say, the words ‘storage container’ and ‘only staying one night’ don’t sound like they go together. Are you sure you’re not planning on staying around?”

  Lainie twisted her automatic grimace into a smile. Stay in Hideaway? Never. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it,” she said lightly.

  Harrison winked at her. “All right. Anyway, I thought we’d start on the northern end of the bay, seeing as we’re almost there already, and head south. That way we’ll end up close to Mrs. Hanson’s B&B. That’s where you’re staying, isn’t it?”

  “You know, some people might call that a bit creepy,” Lainie said, laughing. “Have you been stalking me?”

  Harrison grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I’m so used to Mrs. Hanson’s being the only place anyone stays.”

  “It’s a lovely little place,” Lainie said, thinking of the airy room Mrs. Hanson had put her in, with the picture-window overlooking the town and, beyond, the water. “And reasonable rates, too, given she’s got the monopoly on tourist accommodation in the town.”

  “Don’t let her hear that—she’ll get ideas.” Harrison laughed.

  They walked together for a while in silence. Harrison led Lainie along the broad sidewalk at the seaward side of the main road. A low stone rail separated the path from the water, which splashed against the retaining wall. Occasional stone steps led down to the water, and as they walked, the water retreated, pushed back by a pebbly beach.

  Lainie kept her eyes on the ocean. After the beach, she knew, the hill on which her grandparents’ house stood rose up like a knuckle from the protected bay.

  “Here we are,” said Harrison suddenly, and for one moment Lainie thought he was talking about the road up to her grandparents’ house. Her heart hammered in her chest, even after she saw that he was waving his hand at a small building nestled against the sea wall.

  “What—oh!” Lainie chuckled. “The famous ice cream parlor?”

  “The one and only.”

  Lainie looked at the small shop. It was just as she remembered it: wooden walls, tile roof, and wooden fretwork around the eaves and under the windowsills. Like it had jumped off the pages of a storybook.

  It was closed, of course, the windows shuttered and a curtain drawn across the inside of the front door.

  “I’ll have to see if I can make room in my schedule for it,” Lainie lied. If there was any chance the place was still run by the old lady she remembered from her childhood, there was no way she was coming back here when it was open.

  Harrison stuck his hands into his trouser pockets, staring out onto the water.

  “What did you say it was brought you out here, again? I don’t mean to pry, but although we might not get many visitors, they do usually stay longer than overnight. And they don’t usually prioritize storage containers over ice-cream.”

  “It’s a long drive for a short visit,” Lainie agreed. Her mind raced. Should she tell him? “It’s… family business,” she said in the end. “Just some loose ends I have to tie up.”

  “You’ve got family here?” Harrison sounded surprised, but more than that—excited, as well.

  “Sort of. Not anymore.” Lainie shrugged. “My grandparents, on my father’s side, used to live here. They’ve both passed now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Harrison said. Lainie just shrugged again.

  “It’s okay. We were never—we weren’t close. My mom brought me up.”

  Lainie couldn’t help glancing up the hill at the old house. From here, it was practically invisible against the dark shadows of the hill, and the black sky. Only a few straight lines in the shadows hinted at something man-made up there.

  Lainie turned her back on it and started walking back along the sidewalk. She made herself walk slowly. Not like you’re running away. Which you’re not. The whole point of coming here was to return to the house. Just… not right now. Tomorrow.

  Harrison kept pace with her. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Lainie flashed a grin at him. “It’s old news, really. Water under the bridge.”

  For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of waves lapping against the shoreline, and the distant murmur of voices spilling out of the restaurant. Lainie relaxed. She was aware of Harrison’s presence beside her, but it wasn’t a prickly, uncomfortable awareness, like all those eyes back at the restaurant. Even his silence was comforting.

  “You were right,” she said after a while.

  “I was? About what?” Harrison sounded genuinely confused, and Lainie pinched back a giggle.

  “About the lights.
”

  The bay stretched out ahead of them. The land curved around the water like a sleeping cat, a patchwork of gold and yellow lights gleaming out through house windows and from streetlights. The light reflected on the constantly moving water, shimmering in the darkness. The water was black, blending into the sky in the distance. The lights moved on its surface, glimmering as though they were coming from deep below the waves, instead of from the houses nestled around it.

  “It looks beautiful.”

  “I’ll let Pol know you said so,” Harrison said. Lainie frowned before she remembered: Pol, the electrician who worked for Harrison.

  Was it her imagination, or was there a hint of jealousy in Harrison’s voice?

  She glanced sidelong at him in time to catch a fleeting self-deprecatory grimace flit across his face. She hadn’t imagined it.

  “You can’t tell me one man is responsible for all the lighting in the town,” she said, needling him. “Doesn’t the municipal council have anything to do with that? Anyway, what about you? You said you’re the builder around here—does that mean all the buildings in town are your handiwork?”

  She watched Harrison as she spoke, still out of the corners of her eyes. He smiled to himself, deep creases forming along his cheeks.

  “I wish I could say yes,” he admitted. “But there isn’t much call for new builds here. Mainly just keeping the old buildings from falling apart.”

  “And floating into the sea, right?”

  “Funny you should say that right now,” he said. He stopped and took her arm. “See that house over there?”

  Lainie forced herself to look where he was pointing. She was acutely aware of his hand on her arm—and the rest of him, so close to her. His bare, tanned arms, and the movement of hard muscles under the worn fabric of his shirt.

  The top button of his shirt was half-undone. It must have been working its way loose as they walked. A curl of brown hair poked out from under it. It was hard to tell in the light of the streetlamps, but Lainie thought it might be a shade darker than the hair on his head. Like his tanned skin, his hair must have been lightened by a summer spent working outdoors…