Less fun? Dealing with his mother. His first video call had her practically trying to crawl through the screen.
“Hi, Mamma.”
“Don’t you ‘hi’ me. Breaking my heart. Moving so far. After all I did for you.” His mother started her harangue, and he sighed. He’d had to endure a daily dose of it until he left.
“It’s only temporary.” And also not the first occasion he’d left home. Each time, she made a fuss.
“You will be nothing but skin and bones by the time you return. People will think I’m a poor mother,” she lamented as if he didn’t have a suitcase full of supplies, including real Parmesan and a grater. Because that was what he needed in the boonies, freshly grated parmesan.
“There is plenty of food here, Mamma.”
“Packaged pasta and canned tomatoes.” She sniffed with disdain.
“I won’t lie. It’s not going to be even close to as good as your food, but there is fresh fish, and the caribou steaks are apparently really good.”
“Hmph.” She complained a bit more. Then regaled him with stories of her work. Because sewing had such excitement happening on a daily basis. Still, he was thankful she had a job because that was the only time he’d gotten away from his mother growing up.
When her babbling turned to her friends’ eligible daughters, he finally managed to say goodbye and hung up.
Being a mamma’s boy wasn’t always easy, but it did mean the next mail run from town had a massive care package with not dozens but hundreds of different cookies, which he gave to Reid to distribute around town. The package also contained jars of his mother’s Bolognese sauce. Those he didn’t share.
He ate. He planned some heists. Called some people he knew to make deals. And napped. A lot.
It was perfect.
Relaxing.
Disrupted less than a week after his arrival.
The snowmobile wasn’t one he’d seen before. A place this size, it didn’t take long to recognize people and vehicles on sight.
The machine was old, the windshield cracked. The rider was swathed in a patched snowsuit. The helmet came off and was placed on the seat, revealing a woman he’d never seen.
Someone new. How curious. Where did she come from?
She entered the general store, and he headed in that direction, only to skulk outside, peeking through the front window. Standing with her back to Mateo, she conversed with the guy behind the counter. When she wandered off to do some shopping, he entered, his great height giving him a visual advantage over the rows of shelving. He spotted the top of her head. If he wanted a clear glimpse of her face, he’d have to get closer.
He just had to see her.
Smell her.
Touch.
He took one step. Then stopped. What was he doing?
Being weird, that’s what.
He pivoted, walked a single pace, and halted again.
Surely her sudden appearance merited investigating. He whirled again. Time to stop fucking around and confront her. It would satisfy his curiosity as to whether she was old, or hideous. Not that it mattered. If she was cute, then it seemed unlikely she’d be single.
Even if she didn’t have a significant other, he wasn’t looking to settle down no matter how good Francesca’s eggplant Parmesan was or how flaky Marisol’s pie. His mother tended to rate potentials on their cooking abilities. None of which, of course, came close to his mamma’s skills.
Mateo turned the corner and into the next aisle, only to realize the woman was gone. He frowned and glanced at the next row. How had she disappeared?
He nearly jumped a foot off the floor when a soft voice said, “Is there a reason why you’re stalking me?”
He whirled and gaped. “Fuck me, you are quiet on your feet.”
A single brow lifted. “And you’re not. Nor are you very discreet when spying.”
“I wasn’t spying.” At her pointed stare, he grinned. “Okay, maybe I was a little. What’s up with your scent?” Had she been human, this would have sounded odd, but face-to-face, he had little doubt he spoke to another shifter. The familiar feline was almost masked by the stronger scent of pine. Given her silvery coloring, a cougar, perhaps? A young one.
“I’m sorry, is bathing something you’re unaccustomed to?” she queried. “Perhaps I could introduce you to some soap.”
His grin widened at her sassy retort. “You know what I mean. Why do you smell like car air freshener?”
“Because I like it?”
“Interesting choice. So what are you when not pretending to be a tree?” Because he thought her really cute, if tiny, compared to him at least.
“What I am is none of your business. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
While he couldn’t understand why she’d keep it a secret, he let it go. “I’ve never seen you around before.”
“Because I don’t live in town.”
“Where do you live?” he asked. A study of the surrounding maps hadn’t shown any other settlements nearby.
“You don’t need to know. And I don’t appreciate being interrogated by strangers.” Her lips pinched.
“Name is Mateo Ricci.” He held out his hand.
She eyed it but didn’t shake. “You’re new,” she stated.
“Yup. I arrived about a week ago.”
“Did no one explain that some of us come here for privacy?”
“I won’t tell any of your secrets. We’re all friends here.” Because the second rule of shifter club was everyone supported shifter club.
“I don’t need friends.”
“I do. Don’t suppose you’d like to go for a beer? Maybe throw some darts?”
“No.”
“Do you prefer wine? I could cook you a feast. Just don’t tell my mother.”
Her lips flattened, and then as if she couldn’t help herself, “Why can’t your mother know you cook?”
“Because then she’ll cry and claim I don’t need her anymore, and then I’ll have to eat twice as much for the next month to prove I do, and the last time I did that, I gained twenty pounds.” He couldn’t help a rueful peek at his gut. He struggled at times with his weight. Amur tigers were prone to storing fat.
“You’re a mama’s boy?” she said, almost incredulously.
“Yup. And proud of it. You close to your mother?”
“No. She’s dead. And before you ask, so is my dad. My grandparents. Everyone.”
“You’re an orphan? That sucks.”
“Wow, this is...” She shook her head. “I’ve got to go. Goodbye.”
“Already? But you haven’t even told me your name.”
“Because it’s not important.” She turned and walked away.
He found himself blurting out, “Can I see you again?”
She paused in her departure to glance at him over her shoulder. Then stated very clearly, “No.”
Then she left.
And Mateo laughed and laughed until he almost cried.
The confused boy behind the counter just had to ask, “What’s so funny?”
More like ironic. Fate bitch-slapping him for what he’d said to Terrence just a week before.
“That little lady is gonna be my wife.”