She looks at me and licks her lips. Instantly, I wonder what she would look like on her knees in front of me. Would she kiss my cock passionately? Would she suck it and lick it with excitement? Would she tease me slowly? Would she just crawl up me and slide down onto it?

  Fuck.

  I shouldn’t be thinking these things.

  Not about a stranger.

  Not about this woman.

  A ride.

  I offered her a ride.

  “A ride?” I ask again, trying to clear my dirty mind.

  “Okay,” she nods. “But I want to sit in the back.”

  “The back?”

  “So, I can pretend you’re my taxi driver,” she says. Then she bops me on the nose with her finger and I can’t help the laugh that pours out of me.

  “Okay,” I tell her, taking her arm. “You really are beyond wasted. Let’s get you home.”

  I guide her to my car, get her settled, and start driving. I pull out of the parking lot and get on the road, but then I realize that I’m not sure where I’m going. I actually don’t even know if she lives in Tigress. I guess I’m about to find out.

  “Where to?” I ask her.

  “To my house,” she says.

  “Okay,” I glance in the rearview mirror. “What’s your address?”

  “Um,” she shakes her head. “It’s a big blue house. The shutters are green.”

  Weirdly, I know exactly where she lives, and I’m not sure if that makes it totally obvious that I work in real estate development or if it makes me seem like a crazy stalker. The reason I know the house is because I want to buy it. Desperately. It’s fucking gorgeous, but when I called the owner, he had no interest in selling. In fact, he was pretty pissed off that I even bothered to ask if he’d consider putting it on the market or selling it privately to me.

  How did this little minx manage to get a house like that?

  I wonder if she recently moved in or if she’s staying with the person who owns the home. Perhaps it’s not polite to ask, but then again, I’ve never really been a polite sort of person. Besides, I really am curious. I’m very persistent when I want to be. It’s one of the reasons I’m so very good at my job and one of the reasons I’m consistently increasing my company’s revenue. It also tends to get me into trouble.

  “Did you just buy that house?” I ask her. “I know exactly where it is.”

  “Nah,” she shakes her head. She’s laying on the backseat of the car now. She seems wildly comfortable for someone who is in a car with a stranger. Her skirt is bunched out and her panties are showing, but I look away. I’m so turned on I feel like my cock is going to explode, but I can’t look at her like this. She’s not trying to be sexy, I remind myself. She’s just getting comfortable.

  “Have you lived there for a long time?”

  “Yup.”

  Okay, so she’s a woman of few words. Apparently, I’m going to have to try harder if I’m going to pry any information from her.

  “Do you have roommates?”

  She sits up suddenly and leans forward. Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.

  “Do you like tacos?” She asks.

  Okay, maybe not.

  “Tacos?”

  “Tacos,” she nods.

  “I suppose.”

  “Let’s go get tacos,” the woman says.

  “Really?” I look in the rearview mirror, and to be honest, she looks so damn excited that I can’t find it in myself to tell her no. It’s totally crazy and silly, but why not? It’s the middle of the night and if she wants tacos, then I’m certain we can find a place that’s open.

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “Okay.”

  We drive around to the only two fast food places in town. One closes at midnight, but the other one is open round-the-clock. Despite the fact that it’s a burger joint, they totally sell crunchy tacos. Better yet? They’re less than a dollar each.

  “How many do you want?” I ask.

  “Five,” she says.

  I laugh. “Really?”

  “Okay, six. Here,” she hands me a wadded-up bill. “Get yourself some, too. On me.”

  “I don’t want your money,” I tell her.

  “Just take it. I don’t want your charity,” she says.

  “I don’t think spending six dollars on you could be considered charity.”

  “You’re already giving me a ride,” she tells me insistently.

  “Keep it,” I say. “Consider this a gift celebrating our new friendship.”

  That seems to satisfy her, and she sits back against the seat and holds her money in her lap. I’m not so naïve that I think this is at all settled. I’m guessing, in fact, that she’s probably going to try to sneak it into my wallet or that she’ll hide it somewhere in my car. I’ll deal with that when it arises, but I’m definitely not letting a sweet drunk girl pay for her own dinner.

  I order the food, make it through the drive-thru somehow, and start heading back toward her home. I hand the bag back to the woman and she starts munching on the tacos. I probably shouldn’t let strange women eat in my car, but you only live once, right?

  “So, what’s your name?” I ask her. “I probably should have asked earlier, but, you know, I was distracted with the idea of cheap food in the middle of the night.”

  “Cassidy. My name is Cassidy.”

  “I’m Matt.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says through a mouthful of taco.

  “What brought you out tonight?” I ask, turning down the quiet road that leads to Cassidy’s house.

  She shrugs, but something shifts in the air. Sadness? Loneliness? Frustration? I wonder if she’s feeling as anxious as I am about the entire dating thing. Maybe she hates the idea of trying to find someone just as much as I do.

  “That doesn’t seem good.”

  “I guess I’m just not very good at meeting people,” she says. She looks up, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. I need to stay focused on the road. It’s late, and it’s dark, but I can’t help peeking back at her every few minutes. Now that she’s sitting up and her clothing is adjusted, I don’t feel bad about looking at her or about admiring her. She’s lovely and sweet. Cassidy has this element of curiosity about her. She just seems so very alive, so very interested in everything around her.

  When was the last time I met someone who was actually curious?

  I don’t know that I ever have.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I talked to two different guys tonight, not counting you, and both times it was just bad.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Yep.” She leans back, tacos forgotten, and starts telling me about her night. “I just need to find a date for a, uh, special event. My friend suggested a mixer as a way to meet people. I’m not the biggest fan of apps,” she explains, and I’m a little surprised by her honesty, but I find myself nodding.

  “Me neither,” I say. “They’re just so impersonal.”

  “Yeah, and you always meet creeps on there,” she shakes her head and shivers, and I wonder what kind of guys she’s met that have given her such a bad impression. Cassidy doesn’t deserve to be treated like that and the idea that she has been makes me very unhappy.

  She deserves to be treated like a princess.

  Worshipped.

  Protected.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” I tell her.

  “Me too. What about you? Why were you there?”

  “Same reason. I’m going to a wedding. I need a date.”

  “Probably the same wedding,” she laughs, and I realize that she’s probably right. It’s a pretty small town. She probably knows the bride or groom, at least in passing. Besides, if I know anything about Melanie, her wedding is going to be the talk of the town for weeks.

  “Alastair and Melanie?”

  “Yep.”

  “Funny,” I laugh, shaking my head. I’m momentarily tempted to invite her to be my date for the event, but I also realize that it would be all wrong. I don’t want her to feel cornered into accepting the offer and I certainly don’t want things to be awkward between us at the event if we both do end up going.

  I’m saved from having to make a serious decision about whether or not to ask her more about the event when I see her home up in the distance. It’s just as beautiful as I remember.

  I pull up in front of Cassidy’s house and look up at the door. It’s bright red and contrasts in a beautiful way with the rest of the architecture of the home. Whoever designed this did an incredible job. Damn if I don’t want to see the inside. I’m not so bold that I’d try to invite myself inside, but man, I’d love to know how the layout of the home looks.

  Cassidy sees me staring and laughs.

  “Want to come inside?” She asks, hopping out of the car. She closes the door, waits a moment, and then opens it again. “Forgot my tacos,” she mumbles, grabbing the bag. “Well? Come on.”

  She turns and heads up the little sidewalk that leads to the front door. It feels wrong to let her go up on her own. I should at least go with her to make sure she can get in all right. What if she forgot her key or something? What if her roommate is out? The least I can do is to help her get inside.

  Scurrying up beside her, I walk with Cassidy up to the front door. She starts fidgeting with her pockets and manages to retrieve a collection of keys. She stares at them for a minute and then looks up at me hopelessly.

  “You have a lot of keys,” I tell her.

  “This house has a lot of doors,” she counters.

  “Is that true?”

  “No.”

  “Give me the keys.”

  She hands them over and I locate the house key. I slide it in the lock, turn it, and push the door open. I’m surprised to see that Cassidy’s roommate is, in fact, a male, and he is, in fact, waiting for her at the door.

  He’s also holding what is quite possibly the largest katana I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “Who the fuck are you?” He asks, sneering.

  Apparently, I’m in over my head.

  Chapter 5

  Cassidy

  “Grandpa!” I yell, motioning for him to put his damn sword away. What the hell is he thinking? I’m totally mortified at this entire situation, but the ridiculously long weapon seems so out-of-place that I wonder if I’m dreaming or if this is really happening. My grandfather looks at me, surprised, and lowers his weapon. “What are you doing?”

  The haze of the alcohol is finally starting to dissipate and it’s easier to think a little more clearly. I think the tacos helped. I’ll have to remember to thank Matthew for those later. It was nice of him to go out of his way to get me food. He went above and beyond. He definitely didn’t need to help me, but he did. Someone like Lester would have tried something by now. Either that or abandoned me when the realized they weren’t getting anything out of the situation, but Matthew is still with me. He’s still standing by my side, and despite the fact that my grandfather is being a little wild, Matthew doesn’t seem fazed.

  I appreciate that more than he’ll ever know.

  “What do you mean?” Grandpa asks, looking from me to Matthew. “This gentleman is an intruder.”

  “No, he’s not. He brought me home, Grandpa.”

  For a moment, my grandfather stares at both of us. He squints his eyes, as if to get a better look, and then he scratches his white beard, as though that will give him some knowledge, some understanding, of the situation at hand. Finally, he seems satisfied.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Grandpa smiles. He holds out a hand to Matthew. “Pleasure to meet you, little lion.”

  Matthew smiles and shakes my grandpa’s hand.

  “The pleasure is mine.”

  “How did you meet my granddaughter?”

  Oh great.

  It’s fine because Matthew will totally make up a nice story about how we met, right?

  Maybe he’ll tell my grandfather that we’re old friends. That’s the perfect lie because it’s impossible to prove whether it’s true or not. “Old friends” has so many meanings. You can be old friends who met each other last week at a coffee shop or old friends who knew each other in high school. Yes, he should definitely go with the “old friends” lie. I smile, satisfied that Matthew will read my mind and tell a beautiful lie that will impress my grandfather and keep my dignity perfectly intact.

  But I am wrong, and he does not.

  To my horror, he gives my grandfather a completely honest answer.

  “I picked her up outside of a bar,” Matthew says. “She was going to try to walk home.”

  “What?” Grandpa turns to me. His eyes narrow, and I know what he wants to say. He wants to remind me that I should take better care of myself. He wants to warn me that little tigers shouldn’t go off into the darkness alone. He wants to tell me that no matter what I’m going through, personal safety isn’t a joke. It’s vital.

  “It’s not a long walk,” I say, trying to defend myself.

  “I taught you better than that, child. Safety first.”

  I sigh. This totally isn’t going my way. Besides, I think I might be sick. Grandpa seems happy I’m home, though, and I’m pleased as punch that he decides to save the lecture for later. Instead of fussing at me, he reaches out and gives me a hug. Then he whispers, “He’s a keeper.”

  My grandpa smiles at Matthew, sets the sword down, and without another word, he shifts into his kitty-cat form. He emerges from the pile of clothing on the floor, meows loudly, and runs upstairs. Matthew and I both stare at the empty staircase before us where, not a minute ago, a cat was racing away: my grandpa cat.

  “What the fuck?” Matthew laughs. “Your grandpa is a cat?”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” I say, rolling my eyes. “The whole town thinks he’s a tiger.”

  “But he’s not,” Matthew seems really surprised. Why? Other shifters are allowed around here. It’s just that they’re few and far between. “That’s incredible. He’s got them all fooled. And you?” He looks at me and smiles gently, playfully. “What are you, Cassidy?”

  That’s a pretty damn good question.

  It’s one I wish I had an easy answer to.

  What am I?

  I’m a girl who doesn’t know what she’s looking for in life.

  I’m searching for something I can’t explain.

  I’m lonely.

  And oh, I’m a shifter.

  “Are you a beautiful kitty-cat, too?” Matthew asks gently. “Or are you a tiger, like most of Tigress?” He waits patiently for my answer, and for a brief second, I think about lying. I’m not even sure why. It seems dumb, really, but telling him what kind of shifter I am is sort of personal. It’s almost as personal as letting him watch me shift, which is definitely not happening tonight.

  “Tiger,” I finally say, and he nods.

  “Figures.” He smiles and nods. He doesn’t seem disappointed in my revelation.

  “What figures?”

  “That you’re a tiger. You have a very distinct way of moving.”

  “Should I be insulted?” I cross my arms over my chest. Instantly, I notice the slightest shift in his eyes as his gaze lowers to my breasts and back again to my face. He moved quickly, almost unnoticeably, but I saw. I saw the way he looked at me, the way he noticed me, and it fills me with this deep sense of satisfaction that it shouldn’t.

  I shouldn’t be so damn excited that he likes the way I look. It’s a little vain, really, but Matthew makes me feel all tingly and wet and needy. I like knowing that he wants to look at my breasts. I like that he enjoys seeing my body.

  “Not at all. I like the way you move. You walk like you’re proud, like you know something nobody else does.”

  “Maybe I have a dark, sordid secret,” I say.

  “I’d like to find out what that secret is,” he tells me. He steps forward and for a second, I think Matthew is going to kiss me. For just a second, I think he’s going to press his lips to mine and totally dominate my mouth. For just a second, I think this is going to be the moment I solidify the fact that we should totally be together, but then he presses his lips to my forehead.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers.

  He doesn’t move for what feels like an eternity. We just stand there, so very close together. I can smell him, and he’s just as aroused as I am right now. Both of us are practically pulsing with need, but we don’t act on it yet. Just when I’m about to ask him whether he wants to come upstairs, just when I’m about to make that move, he steps away with a little smile. Then he turns and walks to the door.

  Matthew stops at the door and looks back over his shoulder. I’m still by the staircase and I know that my eyes are wide in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to really leave, to go. He looks like he wants to say something, like there’s something just on the tip of his tongue, but he catches himself before he can speak his mind.

  “You have a lovely home,” he says instead.

  Then he leaves.

  And I’m alone.

  Fuck.

  I slump down in the foyer and lean against the wall. I probably should have asked him to stay. Maybe I should have made a move. I don’t know. Right now, it just seems that I did nothing, which was undoubtedly the incorrect play. Embarrassment washes over me and even though there’s no one down here but me, I cringe. I can feel myself blushing as I think about what a total idiot I am right now.

  Fuck.

  I’m bad at this whole dating thing.

  With a sigh, I push myself off of the wall and carry my little bag of tacos into the kitchen. Then I sit at the table, alone, and start eating. Somehow, they seem entirely too loud. Are tacos always this loud?

  Crunch.

  Crunch.

  Crunch.

  The sound fills the kitchen and is only slightly louder than the sound of my own embarrassment, which seems to be practically ringing in my ears. Does embarrassment have a sound? It definitely has a scent and I totally reek of it. Humiliation. Ugh. If I’d known my night was going to end like this, I probably would have just stayed home. Then again, that means that I never would have met him. I never would have met the lion.