The Shifter Romances The Writer (Nocturne Falls Book 6) Read online

  His brother shrugged. “You know, just thought I’d see how you were doing. Hang out for a bit.”

  “Nice to see you.” Then Alex narrowed his eyes. “You just here for the weekend?”

  Diego hesitated. “More like until I find somewhere else to stay. I hope that’s cool.”

  Alex managed not to sigh, but this was pretty typical Diego. He never showed up just because. “Does that mean you and Nina are done?”

  “I’m with Penny now. Or I was.” Diego shrugged and leaned against the porch railing. “Penny and I are sort of taking a break.”

  And there it was. “You mean she threw you out?”

  “Harsh.”

  “But true, right?”

  Diego frowned. “I just need a place to stay for a couple nights, tops.”

  Alex loved his little brother, but the man was thirty. By now, he ought to have his business together. “Of course, you can stay. But more than a week and you have to start looking for a job because that’s when rent kicks in. Six hundred a month, plus utilities, your share of the chores and you buy your own food.”

  Diego’s frown didn’t move. “What kind of job am I supposed to get?”

  “The same kind you’ve had before. Bartending or mechanic. You’re good at both of those.” Diego had bartended on and off, but his real skills were with engines. That’s what he’d done in the Marines, and Alex was pretty sure there wasn’t an engine in existence his little brother couldn’t fix. The Camaro taking up the other space in his driveway was proof of that.

  But Diego sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, man.”

  Alex held firm. “You can always move back to Mom and Dad’s.”

  “Like that’s really an option.”

  Alex shrugged and said nothing.

  “Yeah, all right.” Diego’s grumpy expression finally turned into a sly smile. “Is it true you can be yourself in this town? Like, full-on shifter?” His eyes gleamed feline gold.

  “In a sense. Don’t go shifting in front of tourists or running through the streets in your panther form, but generally Nocturne Falls is wide open when it comes to supernaturals like us. Or any kind, really.”

  Diego nodded. “Cool.”

  “It is.” Alex rested his hand on his utility belt and tried to put a teasing tone in his voice. “Just don’t make me remind you I’m the law in this town. Or I’ll return you to Mom and Dad myself.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll behave. I’m a former Marine, you know.”

  “I know.” He should have stayed in. “But in all seriousness, this is my town, Diego. I don’t want you causing trouble.”

  “I won’t. I swear.”

  “Good.” But Alex’s gut wasn’t so sure about that.

  May

  Roxy loved her house. Loved. Maybe more than she’d ever loved her ex-husband. And if she was going to be married to anything, it might as well be something this awesome.

  Actually, it wasn’t just the house. It was her new life here in this new town. The freedom of being on her own was life-changing. Invigorating. Joyous. The move and the process of getting settled in her new house had pretty much derailed her writing productivity, but she was also rediscovering who she was, and taking some time off was good for the soul.

  So was life without Thomas hovering over her, trying to control her every action and constantly telling her what she was doing wrong. He’d emailed her again this morning with some nonsense about how she was ruining both their lives with this divorce. She hit delete almost instantly. And with great satisfaction.

  Living without that kind of negative weight was a revelation. Maybe this was how prisoners felt after being released. But just thinking about him amped up the stress of the divorce to a new level.

  If only he would sign those papers and let her get on with her fresh start.

  And today, the last piece in the puzzle of that new life had arrived. Her late father’s ’69 Corvette convertible. She’d inherited the cherry-red machine years ago when he’d passed and had kept it in storage ever since. For a multitude of reasons, she’d hidden the car from Thomas. It had been tough to pull off, but she’d done it.

  At one time, she feared she’d have to sell the car and use the money to escape her marriage, but then her paranormal romance series had taken off and she’d been able to save up the necessary funds to get a good attorney.

  Now she could finally drive the car and enjoy it. She knew that’s what her dad would have wanted, although he would have understood, and approved, if she’d sold it to be rid of Thomas. This was the better outcome, though. By far.

  Her dad had taken on the role of both parents after her mother’s hospitalization and subsequent death, so having this car felt like having him with her again. Today was a good day.

  She paid the long-haul driver and turned to look at the car. There was no question it needed to be serviced, but all those times she’d snuck away to the storage unit to start the car and occasionally take it for a short drive had paid off by keeping it in running order.

  At long last the day had come for her to take it for a real drive. Blow the carbon out, as her dad used to say. Seemed fitting that it was happening as part of her new life. And on Monday, when she went to the DMV to get her new Georgia license, she’d get new plates for the car too. Maybe vintage plates, if they did those.

  She went inside, tied a scarf over her dark curls, popped on her biggest shades and grabbed her purse. Then she went back outside, put the top down and climbed in. The engine purred to life with a deep rumble that vibrated right through her.

  There was no way not to smile. The day was gorgeous, thanks to the perfect weather and the car was a thing of beauty. A sleek machine that scared her just a little but mostly filled her with exhilaration and joyful memories of her father and the times they’d gone for rides together. She patted the dash. “This is for you, Daddy.”

  And just what she needed to relieve the stress of this divorce. Thomas was about to be the furthest thing from her mind. At least for a little while.

  She was shifting into reverse when a male voice called out to her.

  “Sweet ride.”

  She glanced over. A handsome man, her neighbor, stood in the side yard. He looked to be about her age, well built and obviously very proud of that fact based on the tight T-shirt he wore. She’d seen him a couple times, but they’d never spoken. Something about him, maybe his cocky smile, maybe his overly confident posture, said loud and clear that he was not her type. But she could imagine him very easily on the cover of one of her books. And he was probably a very nice guy despite her first impression of him. And since he was her neighbor there was no point getting off on the wrong foot. She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “’69?”

  “Yep.” The wind blew past her, and he seemed to…sniff it. If he’d been one of her paranormal romance heroes, that wouldn’t have been weird at all. But he wasn’t. So it was.

  His grin took on a feral edge. “My favorite year.”

  Or maybe not so nice a guy. Her smile faded.

  He jerked his thumb toward the house behind him. “That’s my ’69 Camaro. Rebuilt it myself.”

  She shot a quick glance at the black muscle car sitting in the driveway and nodded tentatively. “How nice.” But she was done talking cars. All she wanted to do was drive. “Have a good day.”

  She looked behind her, backed out and took off down the street. If that was her neighbor, they were not going to be getting together for BBQ’s. Guys like that found out what she did for a living and instantly thought she was an easy target. Like she was looking to do some up close and personal research.

  Uh, no.

  And unless he was a vampire or a werewolf, he really had nothing to offer her. She laughed at that thought. If vampires and werewolves actually existed, that would be something. They’d probably be nothing like the heroes in her books. In fact, they’d probably have all the same issues real men had, like working full time, paying bills and doing yardw
ork. That would kill the fantasy pretty fast. Except for the yardwork part if they were half naked and sweaty and ripped…

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. Whatever that guy thought, she wasn’t about to start getting chummy with her neighbor. That was a fast way to make things awkward. No, thank you. All she wanted was to be left alone, live her life and write the books that made her readers happy and her new single life possible.

  Maybe she’d think about dating in a year or two.

  Or never.

  She could probably live with never. Especially if she got a dog. Or a houseful of cats.

  The air whipped past. Sad, really. She considered herself a great catch, but she wasn’t about to let another man into her world and risk ruining all this happiness. And why was she even thinking about this? Her divorce was still who knew how long away from being final.

  Enough. She cranked up the radio, found some good tunes and settled in to enjoy the ride. The back roads of Nocturne Falls took her past some beautiful scenery and some amazing houses. No clue who lived in the big mansion near the winery, but the place was epic. Delaney had mentioned that her husband’s grandmother had a house that was beyond all else. Could that have been it?

  She sped on, loving the winding roads and unexpected turns. This town was not only the perfect place to live (Halloween every day was a paranormal romance author’s dream), but it was proving to be the perfect place to own a car like this.

  The Corvette would never be her daily driver. Her trusty hybrid was much more suited for that. But for weekends? And outings? And just plain fun? The Vette and these roads were a match made in Car & Driver heaven.

  She owed Delaney lunch and a major thank-you for getting her to come to Nocturne Falls. Something told her this place was going to be life-changing.

  Her foot got a little heavier on the gas, and she zipped through another right-left-right turn combination. She whooped out loud, the grin on her face causing her cheeks to ache. She could practically feel her dad smiling down on her.

  Then the wail of a siren interrupted her perfect day.

  The Corvette sped past Alex’s patrol car as he was sitting at a stop sign, about to turn back toward town on his normal route. He doubted the driver had even seen him since she’d made no attempt to slow down.

  He flipped on the siren and went after her, catching up in a quarter mile. Then she slowed and pulled onto the shoulder.

  Nice car. New Jersey plates. That was a long way to drive a classic car on vacation, but then, stranger things happened.

  He stepped out and approached the vehicle. “Ma’am, are you aware you were doing seventy in a fifty-five mile per hour zone?”

  She glanced at him, a pair of big sunglasses hiding her eyes. “Yes.”

  Not the response he’d expected. Usually, a traffic stop brought on tears, arguing, excuses—you name it, he was used to it. But admittance of guilt? That was a rare one. He blinked behind his aviators. “Any particular reason you were going that fast?”

  She seemed to be fighting a smile. “Because I can?”

  He wondered if he should administer a field sobriety test, but his sensitive nose didn’t detect even a hint of alcohol. Still, there were other substances that might be making her this bold. All he was picking up on was something sweet and floral. Not a bad smell at all. Not the slightest hint of anything supernatural, though. She was a hundred percent human. Like most tourists. “It’s illegal and unsafe to exceed the speed limit, ma’am.”

  “I know. But sometimes you just need to let loose, you know?”

  “License and registration, please, ma’am.”

  She sighed loudly as she dug in her purse. “Could you cool it with the ma’am business? We’re probably the same age.”

  She handed over her information and he checked. She was twenty-nine. Five years younger than he was. Roxanne Sykes from New Jersey. And not bad-looking, now that he could see her without sunglasses and a scarf over her head. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No hope for a warning, huh?” She smiled optimistically.

  “No, ma’am.” He walked back to his car while she frowned after him. Warnings were for locals, not tourists. He plugged her info into the system. Nothing outstanding. He wrote up the ticket and walked back.

  He held out his clipboard. “Sign here please.”

  She signed.

  He returned her ID and registration, along with a copy of the ticket and instructions about how to pay it. She stuffed it all in her purse, obviously not happy with him. Which was to be expected. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

  “I was. Until you showed up.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  She looked at him, brows raised and just peeking over the rims of her sunglasses. “Are we done?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’—”

  She yanked the shifter out of park and drove off.

  Women. He shook his head as he walked back to the patrol car. At least she hadn’t resorted to tears. That always made him feel like such a heel.

  A call came in on the radio. A noise disturbance at one of the local hotels. He responded and drove away, the ticket he’d just written all part of his day.

  By the time that day was over, he was happy to go home. He didn’t feel much like studying, but the test for sergeant was coming, and he wanted to be prepared. He changed out of his uniform and into shorts and a T-shirt, then grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  Diego was lounging in the hot tub on the back deck, a beer at the ready. And probably not his first.

  Alex stared at his brother through the kitchen window. Diego had the radio turned up and his eyes closed like he didn’t have a care in the world. Pretty amazing that someone who still didn’t have a job after three weeks could feel that way. Irritation curled in Alex’s belly, but some of that was aimed inward. After all, he’d allowed Diego to move in.

  But what were his options? He sighed. He knew what they were. He should have said no. Made his little brother face reality. Like every other adult had to do. Alex took a long pull off the bottle, the cold liquid diminishing some of the heat building in his gut. He loved his brother, but this conversation needed to happen.

  He pushed the slider open and walked onto the deck.

  Diego opened his eyes. “Hey, bro, jump in. The water is perfect.”

  Alex stayed put. “How did the job hunt go today?”

  Diego shrugged. “You know how it is.”

  “No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

  Diego drank his beer before answering. “It’s tough out there.”

  “Where did you apply?”

  Diego frowned. “I didn’t make it out today. I found a couple places in the paper, though. I’m going to call them in the morning.”

  “You didn’t even make phone calls today? Diego, come on. This is the third week you’ve been here. You should have had a job two weeks ago.”

  “I got busy with other things.”

  “What other things could you possibly have to do? You’re unemployed. Living in my house. And there are dishes in the sink, so clearly those other things don’t include cleaning up after yourself.” Alex looked away for a moment, feeling the beast within him rise. He knew his eyes must be gold.

  Another breath and he found enough calm to speak again. “You have one more week. Get a job or you need to find other living arrangements.”

  “You’re going to throw your baby brother out? Pretty heartless, bro.”

  “I am your brother, Diego, not your parent. You want to live like a child, unencumbered by work or bills? Move home with Mom and Dad.” Alex strode back inside and shut the slider. He leaned on the kitchen counter and heaved out a breath.

  He hated feeling like his brother was taking advantage of him, but that’s what it had come to. He’d known that would happen, but he hadn’t listened to his instincts. That was his mistake. As an officer of the law, he knew better than to ignore his gut. Now he was paying the price.

  The mail was on
the counter, so apparently Diego had managed one chore. Alex flipped through it. Bills and junk mail. Except for one envelope. Looked like a card of some kind. And it wasn’t for him.

  The name on the envelope was Roxy St. James, and the address was next door. He’d been so busy he hadn’t met the new neighbor, but he knew he had one. The Tamakas had been good neighbors. He hoped Roxy was too.

  No time like the present to make an introduction, he supposed. Besides, he needed a break from Diego. He stuck his beer back in the fridge, grabbed the envelope and walked next door.

  He knocked on her door and waited. Maybe she wasn’t home. There was a car in the drive, one of those eco-friendly types, but she could be out for a walk or in the backyard.

  He was about to knock again when the door opened and a petite brunette in yoga pants and a cropped T-shirt appeared. She had a mass of curly hair and big brown eyes that were as strong and warm as the Cuban coffee he loved.

  The three inches of soft, tanned stomach on display were equally as mouth-watering. He looked toward his house so he wouldn’t be caught staring. That was no way to make a first impression. “I’m Alex, your neighbor from next door.” He made eye contact again as he held the envelope up. “I got your mail by mistake.”

  She squinted at him for a hard second, then snatched the envelope out of his hand. “Are you kidding me?”

  He stared at her. Why did she look familiar? “No, I really did get it by accident—”

  She crossed her arms, tucking the envelope under them. “Just my luck. The cop who pulls me over lives next door.”

  He inhaled. And recognized her perfume. But without the scarf and the sunglasses—“Why does it say Roxy St. James on that address?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but St. James is my maiden name. And it’ll be my legal last name again as soon as my divorce is final.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “Sorry about the ticket. I would have given you a warning if I’d known you were local. I thought you were a tourist.”

  Her glare didn’t lessen. “Oh, so you’re that kind of cop.”