Cute But Prickly: A short sweet shifter romance Read online

  "This is almost like being in an apocalypse movie, don't you think?" Hester asked. She had finally found the dishes—vast quantities of them, of course, with an entire lodge to feed. "It's like everyone just stepped out for a minute, leaving the lodge all set up for guests, except the only guests are us."

  The side door opened and Mauro came into the kitchen in a gust of cold wind, stomping snow off his boots and brushing it off the shoulders of his unzipped coat.

  "Well, ladies," he said, "there's good news and bad news. The generator is all fueled and ready to go, but its fuel line has frozen up in the cold. I'm thawing it out, but it'll be a while before it's ready to start up. And that means it's going to start getting chilly in here."

  "Should we eat in front of the fire, then?" Peony suggested.

  Mauro hurried to help. They dragged a coffee table in front of the fire, and Hester laid out the dishes. Once the places were set, Mauro started to leave.

  "Wait!" Hester called before she could second-guess herself. "Aren't you going to eat with us?"

  Mauro paused. "I thought you might want ..." He trailed off.

  "We want you to eat with us," Peony said firmly, in her no-nonsense tone with no room for argument.

  Hester

  It was very cozy, with just the flickering light of the fire and a lantern sitting on the end of the couch. Hester couldn't believe how quickly she had relaxed around Mauro. It was as if she'd known him for her entire life instead of just a few hours. Like something in her that had been missing had clicked into place as soon as she saw him.

  Mauro was noticeably starting to relax as well. He was a little shy, but he was wonderful company, making them both laugh with stories of bizarre hotel guests.

  He had moved to the United States from Argentina as a kid, he said, and didn't remember much of it. "We were in a small town there, I do remember that much. I've always liked wild places."

  "I never knew that I did," Hester said. "But I think I do. There's just something about—" And then she had to break off abruptly, aware of her mom in the room.

  She was thinking that shifting would be easier here. She always had to be so careful most of the time. The idea of just being able to walk out into the woods and shift was amazing.

  And her hedgehog was wildly excited at the idea of being able to snuffle around in the woods. It was too cold right now, of course. But in the spring and summer, there must be a thrilling amount of forest floor to explore, full of new things to smell.

  In the city, her forest explorations were limited mainly to parks, and she had to be very careful not to encounter people. Hedgehogs weren't native to North America, so there was always a risk of some well-meaning person picking her up and taking her to an animal shelter. She had gotten in the habit of keeping some big potted plants around her apartment so that she had some dirt and leaves to root around in when she was in the mood.

  But here, she could just walk out into the woods and shift. How freeing it would be!

  She realized that she had stopped in midsentence and both of her dinner companions were looking at her. "There's just something about the woods," she finished weakly, and ducked her head, jamming her fork into what was left of her lasagna.

  There was a brief silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Then Peony yawned and stretched out her arms in what Hester was pretty sure was some of the absolute worst acting that she had ever seen.

  "Well, I'm completely bushed," Peony said. She got up and collected their plates. "Tell you what, I'll handle the dishes, since you did the cooking, and then I'm going to go up and read in my room."

  "Wait—but—" Hester began, but Peony had already hooked her little finger through the handle on top of a lantern and was up and away, with the light dancing around her.

  After a moment in which neither of them said anything and tried to look anywhere but at each other, their eyes met and Hester felt a grin begin to spread across her face, triggering an answering grin from Mauro. They cracked up together, and the momentary awkwardness faded.

  "So that was subtle," Hester said, but quietly. She didn't want to hurt her mother's feelings.

  "Very subtle."

  There was clinking and the sound of water running from the kitchen, and Peony singing quietly to herself.

  "I should go in there and help," Mauro said.

  "No, don't." Hester put a hand on his arm, and then left it there. His skin was very warm even through his shirt sleeve. "She wanted to give us some time alone. We might as well take advantage of it."

  Mauro's grin returned. He edged a little closer. "I like your mom. I think we had a polite version of the shovel talk earlier."

  "The ... what?"

  "You know, the one where she points out that if I hurt you, no one will ever find the body. Except a bit more politely than that." He looked at her, the flickering firelight catching in his eyes. "The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you, Hester."

  The fire was starting to die down, bathing them in ruby light and shadow, soft and romantic. It kindled something primitive in her—some part of her that still seemed to remember caves painted in firelight.

  "I know you won't," she whispered, and met him halfway.

  They kissed gently beside the fire. Hester was only dimly aware when the clinking sounds from the kitchen wrapped up.

  "Good night, kids!" Peony called on her way up the stairs.

  They broke apart guiltily, like teenagers caught necking.

  "Night, Mom!" Hester called.

  "Good night, ma'am!"

  As Peony and the lantern vanished upstairs, Mauro touched her cheek lightly. "There's so much I don't know about you yet. Do you have a dad around, or is it just the two of you?"

  "It's just me and Mom. She's never been married. What about your parents?"

  "Still together after forty years. They're mates," he explained, like that meant something. "They retired to Arizona recently."

  "Did they live here before?"

  "Yeah, Mom worked in the bookkeeping department and Dad was a maintenance guy. Sometimes it feels like the lodge is my home."

  The weird thing was how quickly it was starting to feel homelike to Hester too. Maybe it was only because Mauro was here. She hesitated on the edge of saying so, but Mauro spoke before she could.

  "I hate to interrupt all of this, but I need to go out and see if I can get the generator started before the rooms start to freeze and the freezers start to thaw." He smiled at her. "Want to come with me and learn how to start a generator?"

  "I guess?" Hester said anxiously. "I've never done anything like that; what if I break something?"

  "You can't. I mean, not by doing anything that you're likely to do. Anyway, if you aren't comfortable doing it yourself, you can just watch me do it. I think it'd be useful if someone other than me around here knew how to run the thing."

  He offered her a hand up. Away from the fire, she became aware of how deeply the cold outside had crept into the room.

  They put on their coats and boots at the door, and stepped out into a fresh, crystalline world.

  The snow had stopped. There was no light at all, except what little light came through the lodge's windows—including a single glint in the upstairs window of Peony's room—and a slightly paler patch in the sky where the moon was hidden behind clouds. And yet, there was a luminosity to the snow. Between that and her shifter night vision, she could make out the dim shapes of the outbuildings and her snow-covered car.

  Mauro turned on a flashlight. Hester shoved her hands in her pockets and followed him down the lodge steps, into the pristine snow. Their breath curled like smoke in the cold air.

  "The generator shed is over here," Mauro said over his shoulder. "Well, it's more of a workshop really, but it includes the generator."

  He opened a door in the side of a large, square building half hidden from the lodge by a screen of trees. It was pitch dark inside, and felt only slightly warmer than the frigid outside air. There was
a strong smell of oil and grease. The flashlight glinted off metal edges in the gloom.

  "This is where we do repairs to anything at the lodge that needs fixing," Mauro explained as they picked their way around freestanding pieces of large metal equipment and a couple of vehicles of some kind, tarped over with canvas covers. The floor was oil-stained cement. "Out in the mountains like we are, you can't just call for a plumber or a mechanic and expect them to be there in an hour. And if an important piece of equipment breaks, like the main pump that supplies water to the hotel, we have to be ready to fix it."

  "So if the generator is broken, you can fix it?" Hester asked.

  "Yes, but I think this is just because of the generator not having been used in a while and getting too cold to start easily. At least I hope that's all it is. Once I get it warmed up, it ought to start easily."

  "How are you warming it without power?"

  "Kerosene heater. If I can't get it started tonight, I can bring a couple of those over to the lodge so your rooms will be comfortable, at least."

  He opened a door, and they stepped into a small room off the main one. It was surprisingly warm inside, with a golden-red glow that turned out to come from the small freestanding heater. Hester hadn't been entirely sure what a kerosene heater would look like, but it turned out that it had a burner, kind of like a gas range, although it burned with a golden flame.

  The generator filled most of the small room. It was almost as tall as Hester, a massive square thing. Mauro held the flashlight on a row of switches and gauges, and turned to Hester.

  "Ready to start a generator?"

  "No," she said faintly, but she stepped up.

  "It's actually very easy. See this switch that says OFF and ON?"

  "Turn it to ON?" she guessed.

  "Got it in one."

  It was actually more like a dial with only two positions. She rotated it to ON. Nothing happened.

  "Is it still broken?" she asked.

  "No. Now you push that." He pointed to a large red button labeled START. "Push and hold it for a few second. It's like cranking the ignition on a car. Let go when it catches, or if it doesn't start after you hear it try a couple of times."

  "How do I know if it's trying?"

  "Similar to a car. You'll be able to tell." He smiled at her over the flashlight, and then gently squeezed her hand. His fingers were very warm. "Seriously, you can't break it. It's designed to be operated by big guys with hands like hams. Go on, push it."

  Hester pressed down on the red button.

  There was a high electronic whine followed by a series of clicks, and then a couple of low coughs that did actually sound like a car engine trying to start. She jumped when it caught and burst into clattering noise. It was like standing next to a very loud, rumbling truck engine. She couldn't tell if it was just her imagination, but it seemed to vibrate the floor underfoot.

  "It's loud!" she yelled.

  "Sorry! Forgot to warn you! We'll be out of here in a minute." Mauro pointed to a gauge with a rapidly changing digital readout. "That's the voltage establishing itself. In a minute, it'll settle down—oh, there it goes."

  He threw another lever, and abruptly lights came on: one overhead, and some more out in the workshop.

  "And we're in business." He grinned at her. "You started the generator. Go you!"

  "I guess I did!" She looked over the gauges. Most of them were entirely arcane to her—well, except the one that read FUEL, which was pretty straightforward. And there was a big button marked STOP. "Does that turn it off?" she asked, pointing to it and half-shouting over the rumbling noise.

  "Yep. Most of the shutdown procedure is automatic, so if you need to turn it off, just push that and it does the rest for you." He leaned over to switch off the kerosene heater. "Come on, let's get out of here before we go deaf."

  It was a lot quieter with the door closed, though she could still feel the vibration underfoot—definitely not her imagination. With the shop lights on, it was easier to get through the clutter without bumping into anything.

  "How long does the power usually stay off?" she asked.

  "It could be a couple of days. Sometimes up to a week, but that's very rare. There's a pretty good chance it'll be back on by morning."

  He opened the door to the outside, and switched off the lights. Hester caught her breath.

  The moon had come out from behind the clouds, and the world was lit up in brilliant, sparkling stillness. It was like a black and white painting, sharp stark shadows and gleaming expanses of pristine, utterly unmarked snow.

  Through the trees, the hotel's lights gleamed across the snow. It looked like a picture that should appear in their brochure, advertising the serene beauty of the place to prospective guests.

  "It's gorgeous," she whispered.

  Mauro turned to smile at her. The moonlight was bright enough to easily see his expression—and his shoulders as he slipped off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  "What are you doing?" Hester asked breathlessly.

  "What's it look like?" he asked, flashing her a grin, and just as she was desperately scrambling for a non-indecent answer to that question, he went on, "Want to shift and play in the snow?"

  "I—you—" Her brain short-circuited as he stripped off the shirt, revealing that glorious chest. "Here?" she squeaked out. "My—the—" She gestured helplessly in the general direction of the hotel.

  "Nobody can see us. We're hidden by the trees."

  "But ..." She clutched her coat around herself.

  Mauro touched her chin, tipping her face back to meet his eyes. "It doesn't matter to me what you shift into. I'd love to meet your animal." He hesitated. "Is it a form that can't handle the cold? Of course we can go inside if that's the case."

  "No, it's ..." She dropped her gaze. The idea of shifting in front of someone else was terrifying. "Hedgehog," she whispered. "I'm a hedgehog."

  "Of course," Mauro murmured. "That's exactly you. A cute, perfect little hedgehog."

  He didn't pull away. They were still incredibly close. All she would have had to do was move slightly forward, into the circle of his arms, and press against that gorgeous chest.

  "Does the cold bother hedgehogs?" Mauro asked. "I don't know much about them."

  "We're okay with cold." Hester managed to laugh a little. "What we aren't particularly built for is romping around in snow. We're more about the burrowing."

  "Tell you what," he said with a quick flash of a grin. "I'll go first, and you can join me if you like."

  With that, he started undoing his jeans, and Hester must have made some kind of sound, an audible gulping, because he looked up.

  "Are you okay with this?"

  "Yes, I ... yes," she got out, nodding vigorously.

  I just don't know if my poor brain can handle it, that's all.

  "Let's go, then," he said, and vanished.

  It took Hester a moment to realize what had happened. The clothes he was still wearing collapsed into a heap. And then something small poked its head out.

  "Oh, my gosh," Hester whispered. She crouched down to look closer.

  Mauro had told her what a grison was, but she still wasn't prepared for how adorable he was. He did actually look a lot like a ferret, and he was about the size of one, maybe a foot long not counting the tail. He was gray, with a black mask across the lower part of his face, chest, and front legs; it gave him a slightly badgerlike appearance.

  Mauro pulled his head in, vanishing into his own jeans, and then popped out of one of the trouser legs, making her jump and then laugh.

  He moved like a ferret too, with a swift, humping run. He darted over to her and poked his nose at her fingers.

  "Yes, you're adorable, you're unbelievably cute," she said, laughing. "I mean, handsome. You're a very handsome grison, the best I've ever seen."

  Mauro seemed to preen visibly. He dived into the snow, popping up a couple of feet farther on with snow on top of his head.

  Hes
ter did something she had almost never done in her life: she squealed in delight.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid that someone would have heard. But there was no one to hear. The only person around for miles was Peony, and she was inside the lodge, behind its thick walls.

  It was just the two of them out here.

  Mauro scampered across the snow. It seemed like an undignified word, but it was the only one that applied. His black moon-shadow kept pace with him. He dived in again, coming up a few feet away, and looked back at her pointedly.

  "Okay, fine," Hester murmured. "Let's do this."

  She slipped out of her coat first, and then, with hands that trembled from excitement more than cold, pulled off her sweater. Underneath it, she was only wearing a bra. Goosebumps prickled her shoulders.

  Am I really doing this?

  Apparently she was.

  She lost her nerve when she went to take off her pants, and decided to do what Mauro had done, and shift half-dressed. She had never done that before; usually if she was going to shift somewhere, she would find a densely wooded place in a park, meticulously take off and fold her clothes, and then change. This had the same feeling of breathless daring as doing a cartwheel or diving off a high board. It wasn't dangerous per se, just frightening and different. What if she ended up trapped in her own bra?

  "Only one way to find out," she murmured, and shifted.

  There was an abrupt falling sensation, and then she found herself in the dark, wrapped up in her own clothes. Fortunately she seemed to have avoided Death By Bra, and she wriggled around and finally managed to scoot out of the bundle of clothing.

  She emerged into a cold, snowy, unexpectedly bright world. Hedgehogs were nocturnal, and she tended to forget how well she could see at night, especially on a moonlit night like this one.

  Hester scampered forward on little hedgehog feet.

  She hadn't been sure what being a hedgehog in snow would be like, since she very rarely shifted outdoors in the winter. She had thought she would bog down, but as it turned out, she was light enough to stay on top of the snow instead of sinking in. It was a strange, heady feeling, almost like being weightless.