The Griffin's Mate: BBW Griffin Shifter Paranormal Romance Read online

  Lainie sighed and turned her phone off. Not just screen-locked, but off. She’d spent what was left of the afternoon catching up on work calls and emails, and playing phone chicken with her grandmother’s lawyer. She knew she should call the storage company where her grandmother’s furniture was being held, but she couldn’t face that right now. She deserved a few hours off. She needed it.

  And she needed dinner.

  Lainie rolled over and grabbed a pile of glossy leaflets from the bedside table. It was only a small pile—Hideaway Cove was one of those places that had just one of everything. One guesthouse, one gastropub, one corner shop.

  Cute, but surely it gets boring after a while? What if you didn’t like what the restaurant served—or what if the people who ran it didn’t like you?

  She leafed through ads for an ice-cream parlor, boat hire and some sort of crystals-and-candles wellness center before she found what she was looking for. Caro’s Hook and Sinker, Hideaway Cove’s famous, local, and only restaurant.

  Her stomach growled at the plates of food pictured on the front of the leaflet.

  Well, if it’s the only restaurant to survive in the town, it must be good, Lainie told herself, and grabbed her purse.

  The salt air struck her as she stepped outside. She waved goodbye to Mrs. Hanson through the big bay windows at the front of the B&B. The old woman smiled cheerfully back at her.

  Mrs. Hanson looked like she was in her eighties, but had wrestled Lainie’s bag up the stairs to her room as though she was half that, ignoring Lainie’s protests that she could carry her own luggage.

  It must be the sea air, Lainie thought, breathing it in. Isn’t sea air meant to be good for you? Or is it just that all this salt acts as a preservative…

  Lainie let her mind wander as she walked along the main street to Caro’s Hook and Sinker. She had the leaflet with her, in case she needed to check the little map on the back, but soon realized she wouldn’t need it. Hideaway Cove was almost ridiculously tiny: one main street along the waterfront, with a few roads leading back toward the hill that edged the inlet. Mrs. Hanson’s B&B was right at the end of one of these, practically wedged into the side of the hill. The Hook and Sinker was on the main road. Lainie just had to keep walking until she hit it.

  It was a calm evening, and Lainie wasn’t the only person out walking. She exchanged smiles and greetings with a young family and an old couple.

  This isn’t so bad, she told herself. Probably no one here even remembers me. And so what if they did?

  Lainie tried to ignore the flutter of anxiety that twisted her stomach every time she caught sight of someone new. Ever since she’d realized she would have to go back to Hideaway Cove to look after her grandmother’s belongings, she had been haunted by the ridiculous fear that everyone in the town would remember her. The girl whose grandparents threw her out of town.

  Stupid. She shouldn’t let what happened fifteen years ago affect her so much. Even if her family had been the subject of town gossip once, surely that was all water under the bridge by now.

  A burst of music interrupted Lainie’s moody thoughts, and she looked up to see the sign for the Hook and Sinker right in front of her.

  The pub was an old wood and stone building, with heavy-duty storm shutters around all of the windows. Golden light poured through the windows and the open door, and Lainie stepped through into a warm cacophony of music, laughter, and the smell of food cooking.

  There was a momentary hush as people turned to look at her but, to her relief, they just glanced at her and then returned to their meals and conversation.

  The place was busy, but not crowded. Lainie looked around for a table, and then paused—was this a sit-down-then-order sort of place, or order-at-the-bar?

  She glanced across at the bar and caught the eye of the woman working behind it.

  “Grab a seat!” the woman hollered, waving a dishtowel at an empty table in a far corner. She was stocky and deeply tanned, in her forties, with a shocking scar across one cheek. “Be with you in a tick!”

  Lainie made her way through the room to the empty table, surreptitiously looking around at the other diners as she did so. There were maybe twenty people scattered around the comfortable chairs and tables, tucking into plates piled high with seafood and crusty bread rolls.

  And I don’t recognize any of them. Lainie let out a quick sigh of relief as she sat down. Old memories flickered up from those long-ago summers she had spent in Hideaway. She had spent most of her time with her grandparents in their house up on the hill, and swimming in the small beach below their house, rather than exploring the town itself. As a result, she didn’t actually remember much of the townspeople.

  Let me think… There had been the ice cream shop, and the awful old woman who ran it. Would it still be here? Lainie could only hope the old woman wasn’t still working there. The sour look on her face as she served eleven-year-old Lainie had almost curdled her ice cream.

  “There you are!”

  Lainie blinked as the woman from behind the bar plonked a jug of water and a folded menu in front of her. She leaned her hip against Lainie’s table, looking down at her with a friendly smile that made her scar twist.

  “Hi, I’m Caro. It’s not often we get visitors… I mean at this time of year. I hope you like seafood, because that’s most of what we do here. Regular fish, shellfish, chowders…”

  “I’ll have the chowder, thanks,” Lainie said quickly. She hoped Caro couldn’t hear her stomach gurgling.

  “Great choice. And anything to drink? I recommend the Blueskin Bay Chardonnay with the clam chowder.”

  “That sounds lovely, thanks.”

  “Not a problem.” The woman grinned, hollered Lainie’s order over her shoulder to the kitchen behind the bar, and didn’t move from her perch on the edge of Lainie’s table. “Have I seen you here before? There’s something about you that looks familiar. You have family around here, or something? How long are you in town for?”

  “Just overnight,” Lainie said, returning Caro’s smile with a nervous one of her own. “I’ve got some business to look after, and then I’m headed back to the city.” She hoped Caro wouldn’t notice that she hadn’t answered the question about her family.

  Caro raised her eyebrows. “That’s a long way to drive just to stay overnight!”

  “I have to get back for work,” Lainie explained with a tight shrug. “You know how it is…”

  Or maybe not, she thought, glancing around the room. Most of the people in here probably worked in the town, or on the boats moored out in the small marina. They were eating heartily, but without the furtive, stressed speed that Lainie was familiar with from back home. If any of them are stressing with one ear out to hear the phone ring and deal with a new client, I’ll eat my hat.

  “Well, ain’t that a shame,” said Caro with another grin. “I hope you have a chance to check out the ice cream parlor down by the water before you go. It’s Hideaway’s best-kept secret.”

  That seemed to be all Caro wanted to know; after the smallest amount of more small talk, she swaggered back behind her bar.

  Lainie’s meal arrived a few minutes later, brought out by one of a pair of waitresses she’d seen flitting around the room. They both looked as though they were in their late teens, probably working at the restaurant as a part-time job after school.

  The one who sauntered up with Lainie’s chowder and glass of wine was wearing long feather earrings that looked as though they came from some sort of gull. They flipped back and forth over her shoulders as she walked.

  “I hope you enjoy it,” the waitress said with a smile as she put down the bowl of chowder in front of Lainie. “Jess ‘n’ me brought in the clams yesterday—nice eh?”

  “It looks delicious,” Lainie said truthfully. The steam wafting off the bowl of chowder made her mouth water. The waitress beamed, and Lainie added on a sudden friendly impulse, “I like your earrings.”

  “Thanks, they’re mine,” t
he girl said breezily, and then froze. She clapped one hand over her mouth, eyes wide, and fled.

  Lainie stared after her, flabbergasted. Was it something I said? she thought. No, don’t be silly. The poor girl is probably just mortified about sounding silly in front of a new customer. “They’re mine”—who else’s would they be?

  Biting her lip to keep herself from giggling—she didn’t want to embarrass the girl even more—Lainie picked up her spoon. It had been a long day, and she was more than ready for dinner.

  As she looked down at her bowl, the back of her neck prickled.

  A lifetime of being the chubby girl at school had given Lainie a sixth sense for when she was being watched. Particularly during meals. These days she knew how to dress to flatter her figure, and how to do her hair so that it fell in straight waves rather than a flyaway cloud, but she still got twitchy when she felt people watching her eat. Like now.

  Well, screw them. As long as no one tips creamed corn in my hair, they can stare all they like.

  Lainie dipped her spoon in the creamy chowder and glanced sideways. She didn’t look at the other diners directly, but at the window beside her table, which reflected the room like a mirror.

  The reflection in the window wasn’t the clearest, but she could still see half-a-dozen pairs of eyes gleaming at her from the glass.

  Lainie’s stomach clenched.

  Stop it, she told herself. They’re just nosy because you’re new in town. It doesn’t mean anything.

  Behind her, the restaurant door opened, letting in a gust of wind. Luckily, whoever was walking in also distracted Lainie’s audience. With the pressure of their eyes gone, Lainie breathed a sigh of relief and put the spoonful of chowder in her mouth at last.

  It was as delicious as it smelled, rich and creamy and thick. Lainie closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. That was one downside of living away from the coast: nothing beat really fresh seafood.

  She dug in, only vaguely paying attention to the rest of the room. Behind her, whoever had just come in was holding what sounded like at least three conversations, occasionally punctuated by cheerful greetings as he saw people he knew around the restaurant.

  “You can’t tell me that—hey, Carter, how’s things?—this sort of thing hasn’t happened before. And maybe she’s got some sort of connection with this place, or—evening, Guts, great to see you on your feet again—I mean, sure, maybe it’s just chance that brought her here, but…”

  His voice trailed off. Lainie, still intent on her dinner, felt a strange regret. The man’s voice was deep and rich, and just… nice to listen to. Like smooth, warm chocolate.

  She thought, briefly, that she would have liked to be one of the people he was talking to with such casual friendliness.

  She glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man with the gorgeous voice. He was facing away from her, leaning over another table and talking with the family seated around it in a low voice, too quiet for her to eavesdrop.

  He was tall, with broad shoulders that stretched the back of his faded flannel shirt. He wore it with the sleeves rolled up over his tanned forearms, which Lainie had a great view of as he leaned one hand on the back of a chair.

  And so far as Lainie could tell, the person he’d been talking to when he came in… was a dog.

  A big dog, with thick black hair, a sharp muzzle, and inquisitive blue eyes. Man’s best friend, sure, but not the sort of friend you’d expect to hold an in-depth conversation with.

  Lainie blinked. The dog stared back at her with its wet dark eyes, and whuffed quietly.

  Its owner turned around. Lainie jerked, intending to return to her meal and pretend she’d never been sneaking a look at anyone, certainly not him—but he caught her eye before she managed to move.

  His eyes were a warm hazel, with deep smile lines at the corners. He was tanned and clean-shaven, with no beard or stubble to hide his strong jaw and sensitive mouth. As he caught Lainie’s eye, a surprised smile spread across his face.

  She mustered a weak grin in return, and turned back to her chowder.

  He was still looking at her. She didn’t need to look in the window to know that.

  I can’t believe he caught me staring at him, she thought, her cheeks getting hot. I hope the waitress saw that. At least it would let her know she’s not the only one to embarrass herself tonight.

  There were footsteps behind her, the clink of workman’s boots on wooden floorboards. Then the scrape of a chair. Lainie looked up.

  The man who’d caught her staring was standing beside her table, the surprised smile still playing on his lips.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, in that gorgeous voice.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HARRISON

  Her eyes were a dark brown, almost black. They stood out like coals against her blonde hair and pale skin. As she looked up at him, they widened with shock—narrowed with suspicion—and, finally, flicked away from him.

  “Sure, go ahead,” she said, her cheeks going pink. She put her spoon down and rested her hands on the edge of the table, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

  Harrison slid into a chair opposite her. His heart was pounding. This was the woman he’d seen earlier, in the car. She’d sent him reeling then, and that had been from ten feet away, through the windshield. Right here, right now, she was close enough that he could reach out and touch her. His head was spinning.

  “I’m Harrison,” he said, forcing back the impulse to hold her hand and kiss it instead of shaking it like a normal person. And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  “Lainie. Lainie Eaves.”

  Lainie Eaves. Harrison reached out to shake her hand, focusing with his shifter senses at the same time. Lainie Eaves: beautiful eyes, soft hands, and not a hint of shifter about her. She was human.

  Harrison released her hand and settled back into his chair. Lainie being human didn’t matter to him. He already knew she was perfect just the way she was.

  He nodded to her bowl. “I guess Caro’s already given you the welcome speech?”

  Lainie bit her lip, but the hint of a smile edged its way through. “Chowder and ice-cream? Oh, and it’s a shame I’m only staying overnight. Does that cover it?”

  “You’re only staying overnight? Caro’s right, that is a shame.” Harrison spoke without thinking, and with too much undisguised passion in his voice. Lainie glanced up at him, her eyes questioning. “I mean there’s more to Hideaway Cove than just chowder and ice cream. If you were here longer—”

  “I really won’t be.” Lainie spoke so quickly, she almost tripped over her words. Harrison frowned slightly as she took a sip of wine, giving herself time to recover.

  That’s strange. There’s something more going on there, I’m sure of it.

  Then again, there’s more to Hideaway Cove than chowder and ice cream, too. Much more.

  Harrison glanced down at where Arlo was sitting patiently on the floor beside the table. The wolf shifter stared back at him. Harrison didn’t need to use his shifter telepathy to understand the message behind that look.

  “Caro,” he called, waving over the heads of the restaurant’s other patrons to get her attention. “My usual? And, uhh, the mutt’s usual, too…”

  He could see Caro rolling her eyes even from across the room. When he leaned back in his chair, Lainie was hiding another smile.

  “Your dog has a usual?”

  “Oh, sure,” Harrison said, inventing wildly. “Usually everyone else’s leftovers, mashed up and stuck in a washing-up tub. You wouldn’t believe how much the old mongrel eats.”

  He grinned down at Arlo, who gave him the most disgusted look his wolf form was capable of.

  *You owe me, Harrison,* the wolf shifter grumbled silently.

  “What is he? He looks kinda…” Lainie frowned. Harrison didn’t blame her. Arlo looked like what he was: a giant, black-grey wolf. At the moment, after a full day out on his fishing boat, a giant, bl
ack-grey, salt-encrusted wolf.

  “Oh, he’s a bit of everything, aren’t you, old boy? Husky, German Shepherd, a bit of Pomeranian…”

  *Asshole.*

  “He’s very well behaved.”

  Harrison leaned down and ruffled Arlo’s ears with a wicked grin. “Isn’t he? Good boy, waiting for your din-dins.” He nodded at Lainie’s plate. “Don’t let me keep you from your dinner. I’m happy to yammer on while you eat.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Lainie demurred. She was only halfway through her bowl of chowder, which Harrison knew by long experience was mouth-wateringly good, but she pushed it away firmly. “So… you live here in Hideaway Cove?”

  “I’ve got a place on the water, around the other side of the bay. Lived here for ten years, more or less.” Harrison settled into telling the story, which was as familiar as an old sweater. “I grew up out of state, and left home after my parents passed away suddenly. I had all these grand ideas about living on the road, like some sort of Lone Ranger in a mustang. That lasted until I drove in here, and somehow I never got around to leaving. I did an apprenticeship with the local builder and handyman, and took over his business when he passed.”

  “It sounds like you’re here to stay.” Lainie played with the stem of her wine-glass, not meeting Harrison’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. You didn’t have any trouble fitting in here? I mean, you hear about small towns being…”

  “…Welcoming, friendly and caring?” Harrison interjected with a laugh. “No, I know some places do have a reputation. But I fitted in to Hideaway Cove like I belonged here. And now, I do.”

  It’s not like there’s anywhere else I can live openly as a shifter.

  After his parents died, Harrison had thought he would have to live constantly on the move, in case someone got too close and he let slip what he was. Instead, he found a place that welcomed him like a lost son.

  The arrival of the waitress with Harrison and Arlo’s meals interrupted their conversation briefly. Harrison winked at Jools, who grimaced back at him. He’d already heard from Guts about Jools’ slip earlier, about her feather earrings. Made from her feathers, of course. Jools was one of four gull shifter sisters, Guts’ nieces, all of whom seemed to enjoy making crafts out of their shed feathers.