Chapter 21 Tristan
TRISTAN
Tristan breathed a deep sigh of relief when Chef finally left, humming under his breath. He listened to the big man’s steps creak up the stairs and turned to find that Haisley was standing in the door to the dining room.
“You didn’t turn me in,” she said gratefully.
“I told you that I wouldn’t,” Tristan assured her.
“I worried that you might, under pressure,” Haisley confessed. “I find it terribly hard to lie.”
“I didn’t actually have to,” Tristan pointed out. Her gaze was direct and delightful. He could get used to her appreciation.
“He’s a real chef, isn’t he?”
“As opposed to a fake one?”
Haisley laughed. “I mean, I cook, but I didn’t go to school for it.
I make basic food, nothing too fancy. He speaks French and sings in Italian.
You must be from a very classy resort. Will you tell me about it?
” She walked into the kitchen to eat the last bite of her sandwich and take her plate to the sink.
“Shifting Sands Resort is a beautiful place,” Tristan said, as he followed her to the sink to pick up where he’d left off washing.
“As beautiful as this place, but in a completely different way. It’s got a white sand beach, emerald green jungle, these amazing cliffs, and the ocean.
The water is so clear, you can see down for miles.
It rains sometimes, but the rain is so mellow and warm, it doesn’t even matter. ”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Haisley said, getting a dish towel from the rack. “Is it expensive?”
Tristan chewed over his answer. “It’s…exclusive,” he finally said. “It’s for shifters only.”
Haisley took the bowl as he rinsed it. “Like, a motor club or something?”
“Like, werewolves,” Tristan said boldly. “Except for all kinds of different animals.”
Haisley, to her credit, did not drop the bowl or scream and run away. She did laugh a little uncertainly, like he’d made a joke that she didn’t understand. “Furries?” she suggested. “I have a friend in LA who does costuming.”
“No, real shapeshifters.” Tristan switched sponges to wipe off the tray, which was still hot to the touch. The water steamed off of it as he rinsed it. “I’m a panda bear.” Haisley was taking this all much more in stride than he’d feared.
“A panda bear? You’re a panda bear?”
“I’m a panda bear,” Tristan said again, more firmly than before. He gave her the tray and met her level gaze. “I’m a panda bear, and you’re my mate.”
He didn’t have time to duck before she’d swung the tray he gave her and hit him across the face with it.