Hands of a friend, not a lover.
When she could finally stand again, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood looking out over the porch while Liam went to get her a bathrobe.
“Tell me what happened,” he said kindly, wrapping her up in the soft terrycloth and drawing her to sit down on the couch beside him.
Darla curled miserably beside him, tucking her head onto his shoulder as he put an arm around her. “I met him,” she said into his shoulder. “I met my mate.”
Liam froze, then resumed patting her as if she was a restless animal.
In many ways she was a restless animal. Her snow leopard was intently focused on going back to the pool, now, and quickly. She didn’t understand why Darla had fled in the first place.
“Are you sure?” Liam asked quietly.
“So sure,” Darla sobbed. “It’s just like the stories. I knew, I just knew he was the one, and I… just can’t. Because...”
“You don’t have to marry me,” Liam said firmly. “I’d find another way to finance the retirement home.”
“You know I have to marry you,” Darla protested. “If I don’t, it will be Eugene. He’d challenge for my hand. And my mother would never accept less than a dragon shifter, otherwise. I’d be disowned, and she’d see that the retirement home was destroyed, out of spite if nothing else.”
“Is it possible your mate is a dragon shifter? The lifeguard here is a dragon,” Liam suggested, and for a brief moment hope bloomed in Darla’s chest.
But no… “He was... a waiter.” And he was a big cat, Darla was sure, not a dragon. Something about the way that he walked, and the gold in his brown eyes.
“Oh, not a waiter,” Liam said in mock horror. “Your mother barely accepted the director of a retirement home for her son-in-law. She certainly wouldn’t tolerate a waiter in the family.”
Even as Darla recognized that he was trying to tease, to lighten the situation, she burst into tears. “She wouldn’t!” she sobbed.
Liam held her and let her cry herself out. “What are you going to do?” he asked as she sat up and wiped her face on the arms of the robe.
“I’m going to be eating at the buffet on off hours a lot,” Darla snuffled. “Maybe I can pretend to be sick and get special permission to eat in the cottage.”
“That might get you out of a few meals,” Liam agreed. “But there are going to be formal dinners. You aren’t going to be able to avoid him forever.”
It would be impossible to eat at the restaurant, to be served by her mate, to not watch him, not want him. She gnawed on her lip at the idea of it, her treacherous imagination supplying the idea of him feeding her food, of licking…
She drew in a shuddering breath and wiped her face again, nearly scraping herself with the hateful bracelet encircling her wrist. She paused to inspect it, frowning over the cosmetic changes. It had definitely shifted in color, from a cool silver, to a light gold. It felt hot against her skin. Were the markings different? She didn’t know how to read dragonrunes, so she wasn’t sure.
“Did you talk to him?” Liam asked gently. “What’s his name?”
Darla shook her head. “I don’t know. I just… I ran. I had to. It was… so much.”
“You should talk to him,” Liam said. “It’s not fair to just avoid him.”
Darla looked at him and made a face. “None of this is fair,” she said sourly.
Chapter 8
Breck arrived at the staff meeting several minutes late.
A cold shower had not been optional, but it had not done anything to calm the roiling confusion in his chest, or the desire that his leopard was feeding him.
Scarlet gave him a piercing look, probably taking in his damp hair with the kind of assumption that Breck knew he deserved. He attempted to grin at her like he usually would and guessed by her puzzled expression that it failed.
“Nice of you to join us,” Tex hissed near his ear as he took the last seat. “Was it worth Scarlet’s wrath?”
Behind them, Travis leaned forward. “Watch it,” he said quietly. “Scarlet is going to be pissed if you start drama with the bridesmaids.”
Breck was momentarily distracted by the accusation. “I don’t start drama,” he insisted.