Filed To Story: Secret Shifters Next Door Series PDF Free
I gaped at her. “Thirty books? That’s almost three books a year.”
She shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t do a lot. I usually spend ten or twelve hours a day writing. I can usually smash out a book every three months. Then it takes another month or so for edits and rewrites.”
“You are impressive as hell,” I said, hoping she heard the admiration in my voice.
She smiled, and I could see how my compliment pleased her. “Um, if you want to sit at the table, I’ll bring you your food.”
I took a seat, and put a hand to my stomach as it growled. Not knowing what kind of cook Celina was, I’d fasted the entire day. That way, even if she was terrible, I’d still eat what she’d made and not make her feel bad. If the smell were any sign, though, dinner was going to be great. She brought out a big stew pot with something that looked fantastic in it and set it on the table between us. She then went back and brought out a salad and what looked like fried bananas.
She pointed out each item as she listed them off. “Brazilian salad with hearts of palm, fried sweet plantains, and feijoada. It’s a Brazilian stew with black beans and pork.” She grimaced slightly. “I hope you like it.”
I smiled and took a breath, inhaling the delicious scent. “There’s no way I won’t like this.”
She responded with a happy grin, and my wolf gave a mental tail wag. She went to grab the red wine off the counter and two glasses. She set them down in front of me, along with a wine
key. “Mind opening it? I’ve never been very good at popping the cork.”
I took the bottle and started twisting the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. “I’m sure you can pop the cork just fine when you want to,” I said, giving her a sidelong look.
Celina pressed her lips into a tight line and flushed at the double-entendre. I poured us both a full glass, then set about devouring the meal before me. The first bite of the stew made me groan with pleasure. Even if I hadn’t been starving, I would have loved it. The salad was great with a citrusy dressing that perfectly contrasted the richness of the main dish. The plantains were sweet with a crispy caramelized exterior. The entire meal made me think Celina could have been a chef had she not decided to write books.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
I nodded, my mouth full. I swallowed and wiped my lips with a napkin. “It’s fantastic. Where did you learn to cook this? I’ve never had it before.”
She shrugged. “I was in foster care from a really young age. Once I was old enough, I did some research and found out my mom was Brazilian. It got me into trying to cook dishes from her homeland.”
I knew her background, but it would have been really suspicious if I didn’t get her to elaborate. I asked more questions, and she filled me in on everything she’d gone through. As we ate and talked, I refilled my bowl two more times. Each time I did, Celina looked happier that I truly did like her food. It made me feel equally as good that she was opening up to me and talking about herself. Her awkward, stilted way of speaking seemed to vanish the more she relaxed. I hoped that meant she was getting comfortable with me. She was even looking me in the eyes more often as we talked. Her stunning
beauty made me want to kill whoever had beaten her down and made her so timid and skittish.
“Have you ever thought of trying to find your mom? You know, reach out?” I asked.
She chewed at her lip. A jolt of fear shot through me. Had I overstepped? Worried I’d offended her, I added, “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry. I should have known better.”
Celina shook her head and smiled sadly. “No, it’s fine. I actually did find her.”
“Oh,” I said in surprise, then waited for her to explain.
Celina set her fork down and put her hands on her lap. “I found her right after I turned twenty-one. I’d just sold my biggest book and had a lot of extra money to hire a private investigator to try and find her. He did. She didn’t want to see me.”
“Wait, what?”
She nodded. “I guess she still felt really guilty about giving me up. She also wasn’t married to my dad, and in Brazilian Catholic families, a baby born out of wedlock is still a really big no-no. She more or less told me to have a great life but not to contact her.”
I could understand her mother’s point of view. I’d run from my pack all those years ago, abandoning my parents. I was also ashamed of what I’d done. If Mom and Dad tried to contact me now, would I even be able to look them in the eyes? Could I stand seeing the pain I’d caused them by running out on them? I wasn’t sure, and that didn’t make it right. At least I’d grown up with my parents. Celina’s mom had left when she was so little that she’d missed almost everything. Wouldn’t she want to at least get to know her daughter?
Needing to change the subject, I pivoted. “Well, what brought you to Lilly Valley?”
She visibly relaxed. “I’d hit some writer’s block for the first time in my career, so I came here to get the creative juices flowing again.”
“Is it working?”
She looked across the table at me, her eyes wide. “Yeah, I’ve found…some inspiration in town. I actually finished the book I was stuck on, and I’m working on another.”
I decided now was the time to plant a little seed and see if it would bloom. “Sounds like things are going well. Maybe a month isn’t long enough. Why don’t you stay in town until this new book is done? No way to know for sure you won’t get burned out again once you go back home, right?”
She blinked at me a few times and chewed at her lip. I could see the wheels turning as she considered it. If I hadn’t been using my hands to eat, I would have had my fingers crossed under the table. Finally, she nodded. “That might actually be a pretty good idea. Maybe I will stick around a little longer. Who knows.”
My wolf gave a satisfied growl at hearing that. I covered the sound by clearing my throat. We finished up dinner, and Celina cleared the plates and bowls while I poured us more wine, finishing off the bottle.
She sat back down and took her glass. “All we’ve talked about is me. What do you do for a living?”
“Me?” I asked. “Well, my three best friends and I own a security firm in town. I’m a private investigator. We each have our niche, and that’s mine.”
Celina made a surprised face and looked away. I frowned at her. She didn’t look upset. Instead, she seemed lost in thought, a faint grin on her face. After a few seconds, she whispered to herself, “I need to add that to the story.”
Again, my heightened hearing picked up the words I wasn’t meant to hear. I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant by that. She