“Yep. I ate half those vitamins. They work, but the labeling freaked me out. It says for women, and I got scared I would grow titties or something, so I just added it to the starter pack. Those things are expensive, and I don’t like to waste stuff. Periods are terrifying, but the list said sometimes you have them and you can’t help what’s happening to your bodies and that a woman would appreciate some understanding. Now…I don’t understand none of that body business because y’all are as complicated as a spiderweb, but if you ever feel the need to talk about, educate me, or inform me about your periods, I will do my best to listen and not yawn or turn on music in the middle of that conversation. Now, look at the stuff underneath.”
There was a gallon-sized Ziplock bag of chocolate bars. “Period snacks?” she guessed.
“Yup.”
Under that were neatly folded light-blue sheets and a pillowcase.
“Chicks like clean sheets,” he explained.
Touché to that, because she was in fact a chick, and she also in fact liked clean sheets.
Next was a pink makeup bag, complete with brand new foundation, mascara, eye liner, and a shimmery gold eye shadow, still in the packages. Next to that was an unopened trio of razors for sensitive skin and a travel-size shaving cream.
When she looked up to ask if it was for shaving her legs, he winked and nodded. “For your pussy. Girls like shaved pussies.”
“Oh, geez,” she muttered through her giggling.
There was a two-pack of toothbrushes, a travel-size toothpaste, three hair-bands, a really fancy brand of face wash, dry shampoo, a washrag, powder fresh deodorant, and a pair of pink lace panties, size medium, with the tag still attached.
“I didn’t want to assume on the size so I have bigger sizes if needed,” he assured her.
Under all that was a shirt she recognized from the merchandise he sold at his table, a snack pack of cheddar crackers, some peanut butter pretzels, and a can of squeeze cheese.
“Chicks like snacks,” he enlightened her.
And indeed, she did enjoy snacks. “Okay, everything about this is awesome. You will definitely impress every girl who comes in here.”
Dead shrugged. “You’re the first girl to see the starter pack.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. You’re the very first,” he said.
“But…you’re so handsome. And strong. You have so many followers on your social media pages. And you have the best beard and a six-pack. And—and—you’re famous!”
“I’m also picky as hell, but thank you for those compliments.”
“I’m picky, too!” she blurted out. “I haven’t dated anyone for two years.”
“A prude. I like it.”
“Ha!” She laughed too loud and clapped her hand over her mouth. Raven cleared her throat. “I’m not a prude.”
“When was the last time you slept with a man?”
“My ex-boyfriend, three years ago,” she rushed out so she wouldn’t change her mind. She liked all this honesty. It was refreshing.
“He hurt you?”
She nodded.
“Burned you?” Dead asked quieter.
Another nod from her.
“Well, he didn’t deserve you.”
“How do you know?” she asked. “I’m a stranger to you. Maybe I’m awful.”
“False. You like red Skittles, and you’re shy but strong. You are nice and don’t compete with women. Cheyenne is pretty, and you helped her instead of posting up against her. You lit up when you saw the clean sheets and squeeze cheese, so I think you like those. You’re funny, but quiet-funny. Not the kind that needs all the attention on her. You like to be invisible by strangers but seen by people you care about. You’re a hard worker and caring about people in their worst times. You overthink situations before you get into them. You like beer, but not as much as soft drinks. You’re adventurous, but okay with spending nights at home. You are picky about the friends you make, but when you choose someone, you choose them and don’t quit. You’re empathetic and internally strong. You can see someone else’s struggle and not only understand it, but make them feel better. You’re thoughtful with gifts. You’re quiet, but inside you are a monstrous badass that the humans in your life will never understand, or fully appreciate. You blush easy, compliment people easy, and you get along with people easy. You get pushed around to a point, but when a person reaches that point? Your animal will put them in their place. You understand the human and the shifter world. You’re open-minded and resilient.” He searched her eyes. “How close am I?”
“I think…” She swallowed hard. “I think you see me very well.”
His crooked smile curved his lips just slightly. “It’s late, and I would worry if you drove back home tonight. You should stay.” He jerked his chin up the shallow flight of stairs to the master bed. “I would feel happy and like I’m taking care of you if you take my bed.”
“But where would you sleep?”
He gestured with two fingers at the door. “There’s a corral outside. I would rather go bull and know you’re safe and warm in here.”
“You can change for a whole night?” she asked. Her max was three hours as her longhorn.
“I can go for days. The more time I’m a bull, the better I feel.”
She pulled out the oversize T-shirt from the girlfriend starter pack. It read Dead, Dead, you’re great in bed across the tits. “You just want me to wear this.”
“Guilty. I’ll probably take a picture and put it on that stupid social media page Cheyenne started for me.”
“That’ll start rumors about who you’re dating.”
“Sounds good to me. Rumor: Dead is dating a hot-as-fuck purebred longhorn shifter with perfect tits and awesome tattoos. Yep, let’s get those rumors started.”
She snickered and shook her head. “You make me out to be way cooler than I actually am.”
He shrugged and stretched his leg out toward her. “I think you’re just fine.”
She arched her eyebrow. “How the rumor should really read: Dead is dating a purebred mess who doesn’t know how to control her animal, who does crossword puzzles for fun, has four pet plants, a shyness problem, is fifty percent social anxiety disorder and fifty percent daydreamer, doesn’t like change, and lives in fear of hurting people.”
“Eeeeerk,” Dead said, making a screeching sound. “Go back to the part where you’re afraid to hurt people. What do you mean?”
“When I change into my cow? She’s not friendly.”
“Nowhere in any cow shifter handbook was it ever promised that a full-grown bovine was supposed to be polite. We’re monsters, Raven. Who could teach a monster manners?”
“Me,” she said stubbornly. “I want her to be nice.”
“Because you’re nice,” Dead guessed. “I can tell you have a good soul. You care about people. Does it bother you that your animal didn’t get those qualities?”
She nodded. “Very much.”
“Well, the animal wasn’t your choice. She’s not yours to control.”
“Yes, she is—”