Shift of Destiny: Ice Age Shifters Book 2 Read online

  5

  Moira had taken Mr. Maxen at his word about her casual wardrobe, but she brought her only sweater just in case it made her look slightly more professional. Pandora found it in the open backpack within thirty minutes and brazenly made it into a nest.

  Though the business and Mr. Maxen seemed as old as some of the small antiques he sold, his computer-networked cash-register system was state-of-the-art, and even allowed him to offer free Wi-Fi to his customers. Maybe she could use it after the store closed to catch up on her emails. Not that she’d have many, since she couldn’t keep any friends. She used secure, anonymizing software and changed accounts and providers often, so she wouldn’t be traceable by Witzer’s snoops. At least it kept the spam down.

  Fortunately, the morning wasn’t as busy as the day before, which gave Mr. Maxen time to teach her how to record sales, handle refunds, and enter special orders. In between customers and lessons, she kept Pandora out of trouble and familiarized herself with the store’s eclectic merchandise. She’d always had a fondness for mirrors, and practically every display had one, some jaw-droppingly expensive.

  As long as she stayed out front where it was bright and cheery, the peripheral vision flashes were minimal. The moment she got close to the hieroglyph-decorated doorway that led to the back area, the motion-activated lights came on, and her vision flickered like she was at a rock concert.

  In idle moments, she found herself thinking of increasingly outlandish strategies to run into Chance sooner than after work. He was not only hotter than high noon, he was the nicest man she’d ever run into, literally or figuratively. No ordinary man would let a woman he’d just met cry on his shoulder about her insane life, and actually believe her wild story, then make out with her on Tinsel’s porch. Her dreams of him last night had left her drenched with unquenched need that she’d had to take care of in the shower. It was probably just as well she didn’t know where he lived, or she’d be stalking him on her lunch hour.

  A few minutes after eleven, Mr. Maxen handed her a square wooden cube carved with floral decorations that turned out to be made of tiny Nordic runes. “Please make a place for this in the antiques cabinet by the door. Then I’ll send you for lunch. Where would you like to go?”

  The box felt old and warm to her, like it had been sitting in a sunny window. She rubbed her thumb over it, admiring the hand-tooled workmanship. “I’ve only been to one restaurant, so I’m no help. You choose. I’ll eat anything.” She looked at the bottom of the box as she opened the cabinet, hoping to see the initials of whoever made it, but it was covered in runes, too. She traced almost invisible lines and realized what it was. “This puzzle box is beautiful.”

  Mr. Maxen gave her a sharp smile. “What else do you think it is?”

  He’d been doing that all morning, asking her to guess what things were for, and correcting her when she got them wrong. She’d been nervous at first, trying to be serious and remember everything, but he’d made it seem like a fun game, and encouraged her whimsical imagination. “Storing secrets, of course,” she said breezily. “The kind you’re dying to tell, but can’t trust anyone with, so you lock them in the stalwart heart of the box. The runes make the box indestructible.”

  Mr. Maxen laughed. “You have a telling gift.” He pulled out a folder with a collection of menus. “It was originally meant to hold keys. They were bigger back when the box was made.”

  “Oh, like the fake rocks for hiding a spare door key? Sweet.” She opened the glass-paned doors, then gave the box a place of honor on the shelf, nudging aside a stand with a fussy hanging glass chime that seemed to quiver with the slightest breeze. She decided its job was to announce the presence of people with bad intentions, like shoplifters. The gorgeously detailed miniature cheval mirror on the right was for seeing the unseen, like ghosts… or better yet, seeing someone’s true nature. Its small size made it seem harmless and belied the true strength of its magic. She laughed at herself. Maybe she should take up storytelling for a museum.

  She closed the cabinet door gently, then went back to the counter, where Mr. Maxen handed her the menu he’d selected. “I’ll take the vegetarian pot pie and a large milk. Order whatever you want, and tell them to put it on my tab.” He handed her the phone. “In the meantime, I’ll find the fluffy monster and feed her, too.” He went through the beaded curtain toward the back.

  Moira had indulged herself at Tinsel’s huge breakfast buffet that morning, so she called in Mr. Maxen’s order and a simple sandwich and iced tea for herself. Outside of hauling a few boxes, her new job wasn’t nearly as physically taxing as mucking out stables. She felt a pang for her lost friendships. She even missed the dairy cows, who’d had surprisingly varied personalities and liked being cleaned and brushed.

  She was making new friends in Kotoyeesinay, and knew she’d soon have to leave them, too. She’d lost too much time between Nunn and Kotoyeesinay. Witzer wouldn’t leave her alone now, not after coming so close to catching her again. It wasn’t fair to bring his violently delusional brand of crazy down on the gentle crazy that was Kotoyeesinay.

  “Why the long face, Ms. Graham?” asked Mr. Maxen.

  Moira straightened up and pasted a smile on her face. “Just a sad thought, sir. I’m sure the walk to the restaurant will banish it.” She slid her backpack on her shoulders.

  Mr. Maxen raised an eyebrow, but thankfully, he didn’t pry. She wouldn’t have liked to lie to him, but the less he knew, the safer he’d be if Witzer’s a-hole team ever questioned him. She’d learned that lesson the hard way, after what happened to that poor woman in Vancouver the day after Moira had left.

  Despite the high altitude and relatively northern latitude, the heat of the noonday sun had the locals complaining about a heat wave and Moira going out of her way to stick to the shaded areas on the way back from the restaurant.

  The walk took her by Knight’s Garage, where poor Frankie languished in the back lot. The owner, Shepherd, confirmed her suspicion that the engine was toast, but quoted her a surprisingly reasonable price for a rebuilt engine to replace it. Apparently, he had one taking up room in storage that he hadn’t been able to use for anything else, but with a little effort, would fit the Frankencar. If she hoarded her funds, she’d be able to pay for everything within the week. It made her uncomfortable not to be able to pay Tinsel, too, but her temporary hostess had adamantly refused any money for either the bed or the breakfast, and wouldn’t even let her move to a smaller room in the castle. Moira needed to think of something she could do for Tinsel in trade before leaving.

  She ought to be relieved that she could soon move on, to stay ahead of Witzer, but all it did was depress her. The thought of having to leave kind, sexy Chance McKennie before she even got to know him made her shoulders slump. Life on the run was truly the pits.

  Before she knew it, she was back on Wizard Street. She gave herself a shake. Wallowing in her sorrows didn’t help anything, and it made her inattentive, which she couldn’t afford. She threw her shoulders back and marched herself into Turn of the Cards.

  She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Chance standing at the counter, talking earnestly with Mr. Maxen. She resisted the temptation to saunter up beside Chance and caress the back pocket of his jeans, which just happened to be covering his beautifully muscular butt. She suspected Mr. Maxen wouldn’t approve.

  She didn’t know if she’d approve, either. She wasn’t the sexually aggressive type, but something about Chance made her want to throw off her usual reserve and pounce. Maybe she was a sucker for chiseled men with wavy red hair.

  “Lunch,” she announced as she set the bag on the counter. “What are you two conspiring about?”

  Chance smiled like he was happily surprised to see her, which was odd, because he knew she worked there. “We were just discussing a mutual interest.”

  “Really?” She set the drink tray on the counter and pulled out the straws. “What?”

  They exchanged a glance. Mr. Maxen reached in
to the bag. “I’m hiring Mr. McKennie to renovate the upstairs area into a livable space. He’s agreed to move in here starting the day after tomorrow while he works.”

  Chance’s eyes widened momentarily, giving her the impression that at least part of that was news to him. “Uhm, yes, the general store let me go, so I have some free time.”

  The implication of his words sunk in. “Oh no, I got you fired, didn’t I?” She shouldn’t have given into the overwhelming temptation to kiss him last night and make him late. “I’m so sorry.”

  Chance put his hand over hers. “It wasn’t your fault. I resigned.”

  “You did?” It was hard to ignore his touch, but she had to know she wasn’t messing up his life. “Why?”

  Chance sighed. “Because I was tired of not using my skills. Working the night shift meant I never saw anyone. It was sheer luck I met you.” His soft smile melted her heart, and made her want to kiss him senseless, right then and there.

  Mr. Maxen cleared his throat loudly. “And it’s my good fortune to be able to make use of Mr. McKennie’s expertise.”

  Moira groped to find her rational thoughts again. She took out her sandwich and showed it to Chance. “Tuna salad. Want half?”

  His crooked smile made him even sexier than his jeans did. “No, I just ate breakfast.” He was obviously still on a night-shift schedule. Left to her own devices, she was a night owl, herself.

  An idea struck. “Mr. Maxen, I’d like to earn some of that outrageous salary you’re paying me by helping with the renovation. I’m pretty handy with power tools, and I have experience.”

  “You do?” He looked shocked.

  She tried not to take his skeptical tone personally. Old-fashioned Mr. Maxen probably wasn’t used to women who knew basic carpentry. “Sure. I can frame and drywall, and tape seams like a pro. I’m pretty good with a paint roller, too, at least for prime coats.”

  Unexpectedly, Chance came to her aid. “The project will go a lot faster with her help.” His confidence in her made her want to kiss him again. She was beginning to think pretty much anything he did would make her want to kiss him. Later, she promised herself.

  “I can work evenings, after we close the store. Besides, it’ll be cooler.” She waved toward the ceiling. “Are you wanting to keep the original bedrooms as they are?”

  “I hadn’t decided.” He gave both her and Chance a considering glance. “Why don’t I close the shop for a few minutes and we go up and look?”

  The afternoon alternately flew and dragged by, depending on whether she was helping customers or counting the minutes until they could get started working on remodeling the second floor. She loved projects like this, and learning new skills.

  The upstairs originally had four bedrooms plus a bathroom, but some previous owner had combined a couple of the bedrooms by the simple expedient of knocking down a wall. Mr. Maxen had lived up there when he’d first bought the store about twenty-five years ago, but found it too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. He bought a separate small home and used the store’s second floor for seasonal retail stock and old furniture.

  His goal was to renovate the rooms so he could host occasional out-of-town guests, rather than send them to the expensive casino or tiny motel. The new space would have two airy bedrooms with big closets, and a central sitting room with a small bar area to take advantage of the original woodwork near the stairs. Chance would work with a plumber to enlarge and modernize the bathroom, and add a small, private powder room to the larger of the two bedrooms. He’d sketched the plans as they talked, and Mr. Maxen approved.

  While she helped customers, Chance was making detailed measurements and evaluating the house’s plumbing, electrical, and heating systems to see what needed upgrading. It was just as well she had to work to keep her busy, because every overhead thump she heard reminded her he was there, and fueled her erotic fantasies of what she could be doing with a hot handyman. He’d have never gotten anything done.

  Right at seven, Mr. Maxen invited her and Chance to the small office area, handed her a cream-colored envelope with her day’s pay, then announced he was leaving immediately. “I want to get an early start on my day off.”

  She’d forgotten the store was closed on Mondays. “Could Chance and I still work upstairs tonight and tomorrow? It’d be a good time for the noisy demolition work.” She glanced at Chance to see if he concurred.

  He nodded. “Shepherd Knight said he’d lend me some demolition tools, and has a roll-off debris bin we can use. He’s dropping them and the I-beam off later tonight.”

  Mr. Maxen frowned. “Pandora and I are leaving for a dem… er, Laramie this evening.”

  Moira started to say the project could wait, but it couldn’t. As soon as her car was ready, she had to make another random jump, and fast. She owed it to both Mr. Maxen and Chance to do as much as she could before she left. “Would you trust Chance or me with the keys and the alarm codes?”

  A lucky car headlight flashed high across the mirror next to the stairs.

  Mr. Maxen held up his hands in surrender. “No need to use your magic, Ms. Graham. I accept your generous offer. I’ll even throw in dinner wherever you like. Have them put it on my tab.”

  “My magic?” Everyone in Kotoyeesinay seemed to have magic on the brain.

  Mr. Maxen glanced at Chance, then gave her a wry smile. “Your power of persuasion.”

  She was certain that wasn’t what he’d meant, but she didn’t want to argue with her boss.

  He showed them how to work the alarm and had them memorize the eight-digit code and write down his phone number in case of trouble. He showed Chance the silent alarm switch under the sales counter that would alert the sheriff’s office. “Oh, and one more thing. You should both stay out of the workroom area as much as possible while I’m not there.”

  Chance nodded, but he was busy reviewing a list he’d pulled out of his work vest pocket.

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said firmly. “The lights in there give me a nasty headache.”

  He tilted his head inquisitively. “They’re the same out here.” He pointed up toward the fluorescent ceiling fixtures. “These don’t bother you?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and looked down. “Sometimes the reflections off the mirrors do, especially the big ones.”

  “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.” He shouldered the soft carrier that contained a wiggly white kitten, then handed her the spare key. “Perhaps you should quit trying so hard not to see what’s in front of you.”

  That clinched it. Everyone in the town of Kotoyeesinay was crazy. But she didn’t care, because after Mr. Maxen left, she had a whole evening with the man she’d been dreaming about day and night. It would hurt like fire to let him go, but if life on the run had taught her nothing else, it was to seize the moment, because it would never come again.

  6

  Chance knew his plan to talk to Moira about her magic and the people in Kotoyeesinay was doomed from the moment he saw Moira realize they’d be alone together for the evening. The resulting gleam in her eye made his beast thrum with pleasure and his body redirect most of the blood his brain needed for thinking to his groin.

  He temporarily distracted them both by ordering food, and making a list of the supplies they’d need for the renovation while they ate dinner in the little office area. Iolo told them to make use of the accounts he had with practically every other business in town, but neither Chance nor Moira wanted to buy anything major without Iolo approving it first.

  Moira grabbed her backpack. “I want to change into a T-shirt. Let’s go up and figure out logistics.” Her swaying rear mesmerized him as she climbed the stairs, so much so that he nearly ran into her when she stopped at the top.

  “Oh, shoot,” she said. “I forgot to ask Mr. Maxen what to do about all his stuff. It’ll get filthy if we don’t move it, or at least cover it.”

  “Shepherd is using his big truck to bring the new header beam for the ceili
ng, and I asked him to bring some extra tarps. He’ll be here about eight.” To keep from touching her, he busied himself by taking off his work vest and hanging it on the newel post. “Meanwhile, we can corral everything in the southeast bedroom.”

  “Sounds good.” She gave him a sassy smile as she fished a faded iron-gray T-shirt out of her backpack. “I can add ‘herding furniture’ to my résumé.”

  As they carried dressers, trunks, small tables, and chairs, they talked about what to do next. The heating and air-conditioning systems were both good, so all they’d need was new ducting and improved insulation all around to solve the temperature problem. Heated baseboards and upgrading the windowpanes would help in deep winter. The new floorplan would also reinstate the load-bearing wall the previous owner had compromised by combining bedrooms.

  They decided to put any reusable wood in with the furniture. She had a notion much like his about creating a temporary chute out of tarp and a rough frame so they could simply drop the discards from the window of the northeast bedroom and have it land in the roll-off.

  After forty minutes, the furniture and boxes were stacked, and they were both sweating rivers in the second-floor’s stuffy heat.

  Night had fallen outside, but the waning moon would give Chance plenty of light to see by, if he borrowed his beast’s vision without actually shifting. Selective shifting was an alpha trick his magical cougar mother had taught him. She could have been alpha of the cougar pride, but she chose happiness with her mate and child instead of the difficult task of dragging the hidebound, chauvinistic pride into the twenty-first century. The local wolf pack, ancient enemy of the pride, was no more enlightened and even more bigoted, which was why his father resigned his hard-earned beta position to make a home with his mate. Chance had grown up in the security of their deep and abiding love. He wanted that for his own children. For himself.