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  “No food?” Tilting her head, she considered him. “Please tell me you have formula for the baby.”

  “Of course I do. And diapers. You can’t travel cross-country with an infant without those. Little Garth is taken care of. I’m the one who needs provisions.”

  Amusement sparked in her green eyes. “I’m not going to sell you food,” she said, disappointing him. “But you won’t starve, not in my house. Come with me. I can feed you. I’m an excellent cook.”

  Even though his stomach still rumbled with hunger, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to feed him. The idea of her cooking for him seemed way too intimate. Yet what alternative did he have? He could starve or he could eat.

  Both embarrassed and wary and, damn it, hungry, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I barely know you. You shouldn’t have to...”

  “It’s food.” Her smile tugged at him, invited him to smile back. “Not gold or diamonds or even splitting a bottle of red wine. A couple of simple, hearty meals. Let me make you something, starting with breakfast. You can pay me back after you’ve made it to the store. Now what’ll it be? I’ve got eggs and bread, or oatmeal if you prefer.”

  His stomach growled at the thought. Still, he felt obligated to at least make an effort to decline. “I don’t want to impose,” he began.

  “You’re not.” She turned to go. “Come on. And bring that adorable baby with you.”

  Heaven help him, he went. The small sandwich from the night before had long ago faded from memory and he needed to eat something. Anything. Even cold cereal. He figured he’d go with oatmeal, since she probably had instant, and it would be less trouble and less intimate than asking her to fry him up a couple eggs.

  Since Garth was still asleep, it was a simple matter of picking up the portable crib and carrying it with him. Good thing the kid was a sound sleeper. Eric tromped all the way up the steep flight of stairs and his son never woke. Garth had always been like that.

  His lovely landlord had left her door open for him. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal out of a simple kindness on her part, but he chalked it up to being gun-shy after what had happened with Yolanda. Still, he couldn’t stand outside on the landing forever. At least, not if he wanted to eat.

  Chapter 3

  Taking a deep breath, Eric stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t know what he’d expected, maybe a carbon copy of his, but her space looked completely different. Minimal furnishings, for one. Clearly, she’d chosen only what she wanted from the furniture her great-aunt had left behind. And then she’d added some other pieces, bright colors mostly. Lots of patterns, stripes and swirls and polka dots. Feminine stuff, but surprisingly comfortable looking.

  Turning slowly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Instead of looking garish or confusing, the effect was cheerful and homey. In a bohemian sort of way. In fact, it reminded him of photos he’d seen of some of the dorms at the college where he used to work.

  “In here,” Julia called. He followed the sound of her voice and found her standing in front of the stove.

  Her kitchen, too, appeared bright and clean. She’d made an attempt to modernize it, though the aging appliances and chipped counters showed its age. He set the travel crib near the table and against the wall, hopefully out of the way.

  “Welcome. So what’ll it be?” she asked, her friendly tone and relaxed posture inviting him to loosen his guard.

  “Oatmeal is fine,” he told her. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. You have instant, right?”

  She eyed him, her expression thoughtful. “I do. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  It wasn’t, but he nodded. “Oatmeal is great on a snowy morning.”

  “Coffee?” Handing him a cup, she pointed toward a half-full coffeepot. “Help yourself.”

  In California, he’d come to appreciate good coffee. He’d even purchased a specialty brewer, which was on its way here with his other personal belongings. But right now, he would have settled for instant. With no expectations other than it being hot, he filled his cup and took a sip.

  It was good. More than good. Right up there with the gourmet coffee served at the corner java shop he used to stop at every morning on his way to campus. A second sip and he made a small sound of pleasure, causing her to swing around and grin at him.

  He felt the power of that grin like a punch in his stomach. Slightly disoriented, he finally smiled back. He definitely hadn’t expected this. Expected her.

  “I take it you like my coffee?”

  “I do.” His third sip made him widen his smile into a grin. “It’s delicious. I can’t tell you how badly I needed this.”

  “I can imagine.” She gestured at the table, a round wooden one that she’d painted turquoise. Around it were four wooden chairs, all painted different colors. “Sit. I’ll have your breakfast ready in a minute.”

  Slightly less uncomfortable, he pulled out a chair. After bustling around for a second, she put a bowl in the microwave. When it chimed, she used pot holders to remove it, dropped in a handful of raisins and carried it over to him, along with a spoon and a paper napkin. “Here you go.”

  After one bite, he had to fight not to inhale the entire bowl. “This doesn’t taste like instant oatmeal,” he commented, before shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

  “Oh yeah?” She took a seat across from him, cradling her own mug of coffee. “It is, but I mashed a banana in with it before I micro-zapped it. It’s one of my favorite breakfasts in the world. Then I added raisins and cinnamon. Do you like it?”

  Since he’d nearly finished his bowl, he nodded. Two more bites and he was done. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “I was really hungry.” So hungry that everything tasted better around her.

  “I could tell. I made two packets, since one is never enough.”

  He could have eaten two more, but he’d already imposed enough. Sipping his coffee, he nodded before glancing out her kitchen window at the snow still piled up outside. “Judging from your porch railings, I’d say we must have gotten at least ten inches.”

  “Yep. They said on the news it was more like a foot.”

  “I believe it.” One more swallow and he’d emptied his cup. He wondered if she’d mind if he had another. “Do you really think it will be tomorrow until the plows come through? I need to get to a grocery store at least.”

  She seemed remarkably unconcerned. “It’ll probably be today. That all depends where they decide to go first. But if you don’t make it to the store, I’ll make sure you don’t starve. Oh, and if you do get out, I’ll be happy to watch the baby while you shop. No need to have to deal with taking him out into weather like this.”

  Watch the baby? He glanced at Garth, still sleeping peacefully. After his initial frisson of alarm, he considered her. He really needed to stop being so suspicious. No way could every woman he met turn out to be as psychotic and unbalanced as Yolanda. He had to admit, if only to himself, maybe he’d gotten paranoid. But then, who would blame him?

  The truth was eventually he would have to find someone who could babysit Garth from time to time. More, once he started scouting for locations to open up his custom car shop. He’d definitely need to get day care during regular business hours so he could work. The thought tied his stomach in knots. He didn’t like being away from his son, not for more than a few minutes at a time. He didn’t know how people did it, returning to work out of necessity when their child was only a few months old. Like them, he’d have no choice but to do the same. Not yet, though. Not yet.

  One thing at a time, he reminded himself.

  “I might take you up on that,” he replied. Surely he could let her watch Garth for an hour while he stocked his fridge and pantry.

  “Just let me know when.”

  Again he glanced out
her window at the pristine white snow. “As soon as the plows clear the streets.”

  “Do you have personal items arriving?” she asked. “Baby furniture, your television, that sort of thing?”

  “My moving truck is supposed to arrive in a few days,” he said, eyeing his empty mug longingly. “Assuming the roads are good enough for them to get through.”

  “Good.” She grabbed the coffeepot and brought it over. “More coffee? Don’t worry, I can always make more.”

  Relieved, he nodded. After she’d refilled his cup, he took another deep drink and sighed. Just as good the second time. “I promise I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

  The snorting sound she made surprised him. Humor danced in her eyes, inviting him to share it with her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s coffee, not Patrón Silver.”

  And then she laughed, the low sound pleasing and harmonious. “Occasionally there’s nothing better than a shot of really good tequila, you know?”

  He actually did. After a second of hesitation, he nodded in agreement. “Thanks again for everything. I’m just not used to mooching off anyone.”

  When she pulled out the chair across from him, he saw she’d refilled her mug, too. Like him, she drank her coffee black. “Tell me about yourself, Eric Mikkelson. Why are you moving to the Catskills from sunny and hip California? Is it for a new job or do you have family here?”

  Personal questions. Though instead of immediately putting him on the defensive once again, the friendly, casual way she phrased her questions actually relaxed him. She sounded interested rather than inquisitive. “No family. I moved here to go into a new line of work. I’m planning on opening my own business in town, once I find the perfect space.”

  “Awesome.” To his surprise, she didn’t ask him what kind of business. “But still. Why Forestwood? We’re not exactly a metropolis. We’re barely even on the map.”

  Since he knew from her aura that she, too, was a shifter, he felt comfortable enough to tell her the truth. “Because I read the article about the Drakkor. Any town that will lovingly shelter an individual without knowing or understanding what kind of being she might be is the kind of place where I feel I’ll fit in.”

  At first, she didn’t move. Didn’t comment or respond, just watched him, her big green eyes contemplative. “The Drakkor. After that article was published, we got a lot of tourists. Mostly, they just wanted to see a real, live dragon. But no one actually wanted to move here.”

  “For me, it isn’t about seeing a Drakkor.” The earnestness in his voice surprised him. “It’s about finding friendly people. Neighbors who don’t judge you because you’re different. The sort of kindhearted community where I can raise my son.” He stopped, slightly embarrassed to have revealed so much to a stranger.

  Tilting her head, she considered him. Then a slow smile bloomed, transforming her from really attractive to stunningly beautiful. His heart actually skipped a beat.

  “That’s really pretty damn amazing,” she said finally, her warm voice imbibing the compliment with more.

  What was it about this woman? Though they’d just met the day before, he felt as if he’d known her for a long time. He wasn’t sure what to think about that.

  Instead of allowing himself to bask in the glow of her praise, he turned the discussion to her. “How about you?” he asked. “Were you born and raised here or did you make your way from somewhere else, too?”

  Her smile faded. “I’d never been here before until a month ago. A great-aunt whom I didn’t even know existed died. She left me this house and all the furniture, so I moved here.”

  “What about your job? Did you leave that, too, or are you able to work from home?”

  Ducking her head, she shrugged. “I worked at a few different things. Dog walking, which is really in demand in the city, some waitressing and even some temporary secretarial work. None of it was difficult to leave.”

  “In the city?” He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t say where precisely she’d lived before. Since he’d been open with her, he figured he’d ask. “What city?”

  “New York. Manhattan to be exact.” Again a shadow crossed her face. “Only a couple of hours’ drive from here, but it might as well be across the country.”

  He knew what she meant. The difference between some areas of California was also like that.

  When he finished his second cup of coffee, she poured him more without asking. Then she emptied the last of the pot into her own cup before she sat back down. “So far, I like it here a lot,” she said. “Though I haven’t been here very long. I guess we can learn the town together.”

  Together. What the... No, he was overreacting. No doubt she didn’t mean anything by that. Again, he couldn’t let what had happened with his ex-wife destroy his future. He would be vigilant and careful. And cautious. Yes, cautious. But his new landlord appeared kind and genuine. He would believe her to be so unless she proved otherwise.

  “About watching Garth,” he began. “What’s your experience with infants?”

  “Experience?” Shaking her head, she chuckled. “I just love babies. Always have. I’m not a professional nanny or anything, though I did once have a job working in a day care. Not in the baby room, though. But I’m reasonably sure I can manage taking care of him for an hour while you get groceries.”

  She was right. It wasn’t as if he was asking her to be a full-time nanny. “Sorry.” Glancing at his son, still peacefully sleeping, he sighed. “I’ve never left him with anyone before. I don’t—”

  “Really know me all that well,” she finished for him. “I get it. Believe me, I was only trying to help. If you’d rather take him with you, I completely understand.”

  Her statement brought him a measure of relief. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Out of curiosity, have you found work here yet or are you still looking?”

  She glanced down, which made his stomach twist, though he wasn’t sure why.

  “Oh.” She flushed. “Right now, I’m still unemployed. My aunt left me a small inheritance as well as this house. I’ve only been here a month and haven’t looked for anything yet.”

  Wishing he hadn’t asked, he tried to lighten the mood. “Well then, we’re two of a kind, since I don’t have a job yet, either.”

  Her smile came back, a quick flash of self-deprecating humor. “I guess we are.”

  Startled, he realized he actually liked Julia Jacobs. At least what he knew about her so far. And he would need someone to watch Garth, at least part-time. For now, he’d keep his eyes open and not make any rash decisions.

  “What kind of work do you do?” she asked.

  Briefly, he considered and decided he didn’t see any harm in telling her the truth. “I was a college professor, but I took a sabbatical when Garth was born. Now, I’m planning to open up a customized car shop. It used to be a hobby, but I’m thinking I can make a living doing it full-time.”

  “Customize cars? Like painting them?”

  “That’s part of it. Restoring older cars to their original condition, only better. Turning them into hot rods.” Oversimplified, but adequate.

  “Interesting.” The little shrug that accompanied her comment told him she either knew zero about cars or didn’t care to. “That’s kind of the polar opposite from higher education, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe.” He smiled. “I figure since I came to the complete other side of the country, I might as well make a major change to my life. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  “Then good for you.” She smiled back. “Not to be nosy, but what about Garth’s mother? Where is she in all of this?”

  He froze, aware his expression had completely shut down. But she couldn’t know and her question had actually been perfectly reasonable, if a bit intrusive. “She and I are divorced. Turns out she didn’t actual
ly want a child. She signed over all parental rights to me.”

  If they’d been discussing any other subject, her disbelief and shock might have been comical. He could almost read her thoughts. Right now, she was dying to ask what kind of woman could abandon an innocent, tiny baby like Garth. From the grim set of her mouth and the way she’d narrowed her eyes, she must be wondering if Eric’s ex was a monster. He didn’t have the heart to tell her Yolanda actually was.

  When he didn’t comment further, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Now he felt like an ass. After all, she’d opened her home to him and fed him. She’d been nothing but kind and friendly. “It’s okay,” he finally said. “It’s just a sore subject.”

  “I can imagine.” The grimness in her tone told him she agreed. “Anyway, if you need anything, please let me know.”

  He could take a hint. She’d fed him, chatted with him and now was ready for him to go. He stood, collected his son and let himself out the door.

  Once back in his new, empty living quarters, Eric found he missed her. Or maybe he just missed having company. Someone to talk to. With the streets still impassable, he couldn’t leave, couldn’t drive around and check out the rest of the town the way he’d initially planned on his second day. Being stuck inside an unfamiliar house felt confining, to say the least. Plus he was impatient to begin scouting out a possible location to open his shop.

  All in good time, he reminded himself. He needed to exercise a little patience.

  He considered himself lucky that he had electricity and water. Since she’d never had them turned off, all he’d needed to do was change them into his name. And even though his television was on the moving truck, she’d left a smallish one in the living room, for which he was grateful.

  Garth finally woke. Eric passed some time bathing and changing his son, giving him another bottle, and then just talking to him. Though at three months, little Garth couldn’t do much other than wave his hands around and coo, being around him filled Eric with love.