What if she found out what kind of shifter he really was and stopped smiling?
Chapter Nine
Leslie handed the little girl a refill of the sparkly red color for her to paint a ceramic mitten. The girl’s mother thanked Leslie, who winked at her and told her, “Oh, it’s my pleasure.”
All three tables in her shop were full of people decorating ornaments for loved ones for Christmas. She stayed busy all year long, but the holiday season was especially chaotic.
She was the owner and had only one other employee. Miranda was rushing around refilling paints and answering questions. Since she’d had the day off yesterday, Leslie was trying to catch up on the kiln today. She was pushing her last set of ornaments through and then would be able to call the people who had made them to let them know to come pick them up. That, or she’d ship them to the recipients.
The day had passed in the blink of an eye.
The bell above the door jingled, and she looked up with a ready smile to greet last-minute customers. It wasn’t a customer who stomped their boots on the mat at the door, though. It was a tall, handsome, blond-haired shifter she recognized.
Kieran was in her shop.
“H-hi!” she said, wringing her hands.
He looked around at the shelves of ceramics the customers had to choose from. “The sign outside says Leslie’s Make-Your-Own Pottery. You own this place?”
She shrugged. “Yeah?”
“That’s badass.”
Okay, that’s not usually the reaction she got to owning a pottery business. It was long hours of being splattered in paint and clay, so the uniform was just comfort clothes and an apron. It wasn’t the sexiest of jobs, but it made her happy.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until six,” she said.
“I got off early.”
“Got off or you were fired?”
He snorted. “Your dad can try, but he would have trouble replacing me. Nah, I handled the spruce problem and got back in town earlier than I thought I would. Kinda wanted to stop by and see what you do.”
“So, you were missing me.”
“Settle down, I was bored.”
“Uh huh, sure.” She looked the three families working on ornaments, who seemed to be fine, plus Miranda was organizing the penguin ornaments and available if they needed help. “Do you want a tour?”
“Hell yeah.”
Today he was wearing black canvas pants and a long sleeve gray shirt, no jacket, and his blond hair was all mussed like he’d been running his hands through it all day.
Here is the painting room for my customers,” she said, sweeping her hand grandly across the room. “And down these stairs are the registers.” She jogged down the stairs and pointed to a door in the back. “There’s an office behind it, but that’s boring—it’s just a desk and paperwork. “But through here,” she said, pushing a swinging door open, “are my two kilns, which bake the pottery. I run these on a pretty tight schedule.”
She lifted the lid of one that was done and showed him the pottery stacked inside of it.
“Where did you learn how to do all of this?” he asked softly, studying the ornaments.
“Art major right here. My parents were so thrilled.”
He laughed and nodded. “That major suits you. I don’t think you would find happiness in a cubicle.”
“No. I love talking to the customers, too. And the kids? I like helping them pick and make the perfect piece of pottery. That moment when they walk out of here feeling accomplished and with big smiles on their faces, it’s special, and I get to be a part of that.”
He was searching her face, studying her, and she grew a little self-conscious. “What?” she asked.
“You’re just different from what I expected when I read your ad in the paper.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? “Um, do you want to make some pottery? If you have anyone on your Christmas list to buy for, it’s a good present. A personalized one.”
“All I have to shop for is Burke, and I don’t think he needs another ornament that says, ‘Fuck you, man.’”
She laughed. “Such sweet siblings.”
“Well, he’s a pill. You’ll meet him someday and see what I mean.”
“Really?”
He frowned and leaned against the wall. “Really what?”
“I’ll meet Burke?”
“Woman, you just introduced me to all ninety-seven people you know last night. Yeah, you can meet my brother. Don’t get all excited, though. He’ll probably tell a fart joke as an icebreaker.”
She tossed her head back in a laugh. “Perfect.”
“You look cute.” His voice was all deep and gritty, and he was doing it again—holding eye contact with her. “Just so you know.”
Leslie looked down at herself. Paint-splattered apron, check, overalls and tank top, yep, and art shoes all layered with dried paint and clay water, definitely. “Boy, you need your eyes checked.”
“My eyes are fine. Shifter genetics, remember? I’m gonna go grab some stuff from the sawmill. I’ll be back to pick you up in a couple hours.”
“Okay,” she uttered breathlessly. “Hey, Kieran?” she asked as he made his way to the narrow stairwell.
“Yep?” he asked.
“I liked that you texted me last night just to check up on me.”
A crooked, handsome smile took his lips.
“I like your facial scruff, and I like that your eyes change colors when you’re happy or mad, and I like that you laugh at me but not in a mean way. Like you think I’m funny, not annoying.”
“You’re not annoying, Leslie. Whoever made you feel that way? Fuck ’em.”
“Yeah. Fuck ’em.”
He ran his fingers down his chin. “You like my scruff?”
“Like…a lot,” she said in a weird robotic voice.
“Maybe I’ll grow it out then.”
“Great. I’ll stop shaving, too. I can grow my leg hairs out for you.”
“No. Nope.” He walked up the stairs. “No, Leslie.”
She cracked up to herself and shut the door of the kiln.
Kieran was fun and easy to joke with.
She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was growing a teeny, tiny, microscopic, no-big-deal, amoeba-sized crush on him.
Chapter Ten
“Come in!” she called, grabbing her winter jacket from the storage bins under the staircase that led to her bed in the loft. It was a bright red puffer jacket with a fur-lined hood.
Kieran opened the door but brushed snow off his shoulders outside before he came in. “Weather is turning,” he murmured. “Hey, you look cute.”
She liked that if he thought something nice, he said it out loud.
“You’re going to give me very high self-esteem with your compliments if you don’t watch it.”
“Good. You should have high self-esteem.” He opened the fridge and studied the contents.
“Looking for beer?”
He snorted and shook his head. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and the animal gets a little rowdy when he’s hungry.”