Chapter 14
Pete liked to think he'd take care of anybody who fell into his arms crying, but it felt like a real moment of trust from Shanti.
It felt as though she hadn't had anyone to rely on for a long, long time, and even for the most self-sufficient person, that could be tiring.
He wished he could help more than just holding her, but sometimes people needed to cry themselves out, and she went limp with exhaustion so fast that he was pretty confident he'd made the right call.
She mumbled something when he scooped her into his arms and stood, but wasn't coherent.
He smiled into her hair, murmured a nonsense promise back, and carried her upstairs to peek into the bedrooms and tuck her into the one that looked most like hers.
For a moment he contemplated curling up with her, but she was tired enough to not even protest when he put her down, so he thought his presence was no longer necessary for reassurance.
She came downstairs as he was taking the quiche out of the oven, her gaze bleary but intrigued. "It smells great. Thank you. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for," Pete murmured. "How are you doing now?"
"Honestly I feel like I could go back to sleep for the rest of the day. Night. What time is it? I just looked at my phone and can't remember." Shanti sat at the kitchen table and propped her face in her hands, blinking tiredly. "Sorry."
"You don't need to be," he repeated. "I'm glad you felt safe enough to let go a little, and to get some sleep. It's about four."
"In the afternoon?" she asked a bit hoarsely. "No, it must be, you wouldn't be cooking at four in the morning. Would you? I thought you said you didn't cook."
"I don't usually, but the recipes in the cookbook I found were well written and the quiche looked pretty easy. I only needed to resort to YouTube once."
Shanti laughed, a warm, sleepy sound. "For which part? Thank you. Wow," she added as he brought the quiche, still sizzling hot in its cast iron pan, to the table. "It really looks good. Thank you."
"I didn't know what cutting the butter into the flour for the crust meant. Or rather, I figured it didn't just mean cutting chunks of butter into the flour and then just sitting there waiting for it to do something."
"Doesn't it say to rub it into the flour until it's the size of grains of rice?
" Shanti actually got up to look at the recipe, then gave it a ferociously soft scowl that made Peter's heart melt.
She was so beautiful, and her gentle try at ferocity was adorable.
"It doesn't," she muttered. "I'll need to fix that. "
"It's probably understood for people who cook," Peter assured her, but she made an impatient motion that suggested, somehow, that her impatience was for herself, not him.
"The point of a good cookbook is to make sure people who don't know how to cook can follow the instructions." She got a pen from a cup on the counter and wrote in the cookbook, then, looking sleepy but satisfied, went back to the table. "It looks amazing. Did you actually sauté the mushrooms?"
"And learned that sautéing is just a fancy word for frying," Peter said with a grin. "Although the internet told me they're actually slightly different techniques."
"So it wasn't just the once you had to resort to YouTube!"
"No, I just looked up what sautéing meant." He cut the quiche and placed a slice on Shanti's plate. "I did assume you wouldn't be allergic to anything you kept in the house, though. Or probably anything you'd written down in a recipe book, although I didn't know if that was yours."
"It is. And I'm not, no. No food allergies that I know about. You?"
"Not me either. I also didn't remember you eating meat, so I thought I'd err on the side of caution, just in case."
"Oh. You really pay attention." Shanti smiled, tried the quiche, and sighed happily. "That's really good. And I don't not eat meat, but I don't eat it very often. More pescatarian than vegetarian, I guess."
"Like alcohol," Pete said with a nod. "You don't not drink but you don't drink."
Shanti laughed, that warm low sound with most of the shyness gone now. "Right. I'm starting to sound complicated, but I swear I'm not. And this is delicious."
"It's your recipe. All I did was not mess it up."
"Nobody's cooked for me in a really long time, so it's special," Shanti murmured. "You should try it. Unless you don't like eggs."
Pete supposed it would be strange to just sit there and watch her eat, so he did get himself a slice of the quiche and tried it cautiously before his eyebrows went up.
"That is good! This is where I admit I've never had quiche before.
I thought it was hard to make, but it's just really fancy scrambled eggs. "
Shanti grinned as she took another bite. "It is, isn't it? And you can put a lot of things into it. I can't make an omelette to save my life, but I can make quiche. Thank you," she said again as she finished her slice and got another one. "For everything."
"My pleasure. I'm glad you were able to unwind a little."
"I haven't in…" Shanti closed her eyes. "In years. I really needed that. Thank you," she said yet again, opening her eyes to meet his.
There was such soft intensity in her gaze that it shot through him like a lightning bolt, taking his breath away.
Shanti Davis was genuinely unlike anyone Pete had ever met: so quiet and reserved, but also so focused and capable.
He was certain that even with a lifetime together, she would continually surprise him, and he could hardly wait for that future to unfold.
He also didn't want to rush her, but part of him wanted to scoop her into his arms again and kiss her. To worship her until she began to understand just how wonderful she really was.
That might take a lifetime, too, he thought wryly. She ducked her head now as he studied her, her shoulders rising a little. "What on earth are you looking at?"
"You," Pete said simply. "You're beautiful, but even more than that…
you said you don't really think you'll leave Virtue, but that people believe you when you say you will?
Shanti, I've got to tell you, if you told me you could fly, I'm pretty sure I'd believe you.
You've got this center of resolve that seems like nothing could shake it. "
She breathed, "Oh," and shook her head. "I don't, though. Not really. I've just had to stay on point to keep all the balls in the air. I'm not any more special than anybody else. I definitely can't fly."
Pete wanted to argue, but it was so clear to him that Shanti was uncomfortable with compliments that he smiled instead. "Well, neither can I. Bears aren't known for it."
"Are there shifters who fly?" Her eyes widened with interest, and Peter's bear harrumphed.
We are every bit as good as shifters who fly!
She didn't say we weren't! Pete, aloud, said, "There are bird shifters, but not, like…you can't ride them into battle."
A complex expression ran across Shanti's beautiful features before she suddenly broke into laughter. "Sorry, I was just imagining a battle chicken or something."
Pete let out a startled laugh, too. "I've never seen a chicken shifter. The bird shifters are mostly eagles and hawks. Birds of prey. And they're much bigger than true birds, but they've still got hollow bones. People are just too heavy to ride them."
"Well, what about pegasuses? Dragons? Oh, what else is big and flies? Gryphons?"
"Mythical shifters. There aren't many. Even by comparison of shifters to true humans. They exist, but…" Pete's eyebrows drew down thoughtfully. "I really don't know if they're rideable. They shouldn't be, at least not for flight, but who knows what magic might mean."
"This is wonderful," Shanti said abruptly.
"All of it. You're wonderful. You're magic and I'm glad you exist and I'm glad you're mine.
" Then she blushed hard enough to turn the warm brown of her skin even warmer and clapped her hands over her face.
Fortunately she dropped her fork at the last moment and didn't poke herself in the cheek, but it all made Pete's heart leap and thump and generally do a joyful dance.
"I'm glad too. I know fate is lending a hand, but…I think I'd have fallen for you anyway. You're…you'll argue with me if I say 'perfect,' won't you?"
Shanti, behind her hands, said, "Yes!" and Pete grinned.
"Then I'll go with 'wonderful,' too." Hoping to spare her at least a little more blushing, he made a performance of looking around at the food and thinking heavily. "I'm guessing we're not going out to dinner tonight?"
"I just ate half a quiche," Shanti said almost indignantly, dropping her hands so she could give him a disbelieving look. "You'll probably be hungry later, but I definitely won't be. Well. Maybe hungry enough for a snack."
She did not strike him as the kind of woman who made snack jokes about attractive people, so for a moment Pete, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, had to fight down the urge to make one himself.
Something of it must have showed on his face, though, because her eyes widened and that blush warmed her skin again. "I. Oh. Oh. Um."
"I know," Pete said hastily. "That's not what you meant." Unless it was, he thought hopefully, but the truth was, their relationship so far hadn't been particularly flirty, and he didn't really expect it to escalate suddenly over dinner just because he'd cooked.
"Well, it's not," Shanti whispered. "But it's not a bad idea, either. A little…snacking."
We could get her some nice berries, his bear offered hopefully. Or a big salmon!
Pete choked on a laugh and Shanti's expression went mortified. "No!" he half-shouted. "No, God, no, I'm not laughing at you. My bear—it has a voice, thoughts that it shares with me. It was offering to find you some berries or a nice salmon! For a snack!"
Shanti squeaked, "Oh," and stared at him speechlessly for a moment. "I don't know what to do with that information," she finally said. "Your bear…talks to you? I thought you said you couldn't talk as a bear!"
"I can't, but I can talk to my bear. And it can talk to me. It's trying to help. It wants you to like me. Us. So…salmon and berries."
"And a nice den to sleep in all winter?" Shanti asked quite seriously.
Yes!!! If a bear could have heart eyes, Pete's did. I'll dig her a nice cozy den!
"It says it'll dig you one," Peter offered, and her serious expression turned to a brilliant smile.
"I've always wanted a dugout. Other kids wanted tree forts, but I thought a dugout would be so cool. When I was very little, almost every summer I started to dig one, but it turns out it's a lot of work."
Pete's bear puffed up. Not for me, it isn't! I'll dig a nice den and she can sleep all winter!
Pete couldn't help smiling. "It says it'll dig you a nice one and you can sleep all winter. It's usually pretty quiet," he added with another smile. "But it's had a lot to say since I met you."
"Does that mean it likes me?"
"I'd say so," Pete said over his bear's indignant Of course I do! "It hasn't ever offered to dig a den for anybody else."
Somehow the discussion had moved so far away from 'snacking' that Pete didn't even know how they'd lost it as a topic. But then Shanti, standing up to clear dishes away, said, "Maybe a movie? That would be a nice way to spend the evening, and it's compatible with…snacking…"
"I'll make the popcorn," Pete said, and Shanti gave him a smile full of shy delight.
"Sounds perfect. I'll choose the movie."