Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Aurora’s gaze found him again, her eyes piercing and direct. Reading him.
He let her. He had many things to hide, but his affection for that broken, radiant, intelligent woman wasn’t one of them. She might never give in to him, but if she could be safe and secure, happy, he’d consider it a win. She deserved that. At least that.
Aurora switched gears, for which he was grateful. He needed the distraction.
“So, you wouldn’t preen with most shifters, then?” she said. “Because of the cultural differences?”
Jessie leaned forward, eyes narrowed, watching them both closely. She was still trying to read the cues.
“Most gargoyles would preen,” he said, “because they don’t care about the cultural differences. That’s why there has been such a problem acclimating the two groups within this territory. Lots of aggression and challenges. But me in particular…” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
Aurora’s huff was barely noticeable. He was frustrating her.
“There’s no point in trying to hide your smile—you’re showing it in your body,” Jessie told Tristan, smirking.
“Pretty obviously, yes,” Aurora grumbled.
He laughed, checking his watch. “Basically, if it would incite a challenge, I wouldn’t do it unless I could dominate the other party.”
“So, you wouldn’t preen with Uncle Auzzie?”
He hesitated. “Okay, yes, in certain situations when he’s relaxed, I would. He’d find it funny. He understands and enjoys gargoyle culture better than any other shifter I’ve met—even you, with all your questions.”
Her slightly narrowed eyes made his grin spread. As an alpha’s daughter, she wasn’t used to teasing.
“What about Brochan, then?” she asked.
Tristan pulled his lips to the side in thought. “Not ever, I don’t think. He wouldn’t challenge me, for many reasons, but he wouldn’t appreciate the expressiveness. It would make him uncomfortable, and that guy is far too uncomfortable with his life as it is. I try to stay respectful with him as much as possible and adhere to the rules he understands.”
Jessie smiled and reached up to rub his forearm, pleased. She liked when people showed kindness to each other and rewarded it with unspoken praise. It was effective and welcomed, but the touch went against shifter protocol. Too buttoned up, that culture. They were missing the finer things in life.
He casually altered his position so that he wasn’t within reaching distance. Practice.
Aurora’s slight inclination of her head said she respected his move. Or maybe his answer? It was hard to tell.
“How did Uncle Auzzie manage to learn gargoyle culture in such a short time?” she asked as Naomi, her great-grandma, strode in. Shifters, like gargoyles, had longer life spans than their non-magical or mage counterparts.
“Ah, Jessie, there you are.” Naomi stopped a short distance away. Her posture was perfect, her movements brusque and no-nonsense, and no emotion was on display. Talk about buttoned up. She had no intention of relaxing, ever. “I came across a purchase order, we’ll call it, that isn’t mine.”
The last word was clipped as her gaze darted to first one doily, then the other. Her disapproval was plain.
“It was Niamh,” Jessie said automatically, her eyes slightly rounded and her eyebrows raised. She looked like a kid who’d gotten her hand stuck in a cookie jar.
Naomi’s eyes flickered to Tristan, the glance barely noticeable. She handed a slip of paper to Jessie, then pointed at the document. “For that salary, he’d need to work miracles.”
Jessie’s brow furrowed as she looked at the paper. “What is this? Or…who is this, I guess.”
Tristan leaned closer to see. What appeared to be half a résumé was copied onto a page with some sort of police report. At the bottom of the mishmash was a yellow sticky note with a very large dollar amount.
“A…computer expert?” Tristan asked, unable to see the details.
“A hacker, I think,” Naomi said. “With a criminal record. Well, I’ll just let you—”
“Oh, my, no. No! What—” Mr. Tom bustled into the room, tsking as he did so. He’d spied the doilies. “Miss, now, I’m surprised at you. What on earth could’ve possessed you to put such a crafting monstrosity under that stylish coffee cup Naomi painstakingly curated for your enjoyment? No. Who brought those god-awful things in here?”
“Niamh did it,” Jessie blurted, her face turning red. She was really bad at lying.
“That horrible woman has no appreciation for the fine work done to this house.” Mr. Tom grabbed two coasters from another table and switched them out for the doilies. “I swear, if Edgar knew what a practical joke was, I’d think he were playing one on us. Would you like another cup of coffee? We haven’t reached the critical hour where it will keep you awake at bedtime. After your efforts with Austin Steele last night, you’ll certainly need to catch up on sleep tonight.”
Jessie’s face turned redder. “No, I’m fine.”
“Fantastic. Aurora?” He paused with Jessie’s empty cup in hand. “Ah, yes, how wonderful. The infamous blank stare. It’s quite rude in mixed company, if you ask me, but of course, no one ever does. Alas, you will actually have to use your words this time. I don’t have an inclination to read into the many nuances of an eye twitch.”