Benjamin_A Single Dad Shifter Romance Read online

  Maybe it was selfish, but I guessed I always figured that if sex was just going to lead to disappointment at best, and heartbreak at worst, what was the point of trying at all? I was happy enough living life without all the complications, and I didn’t think I was really missing out on anything.

  Until last night. Until kissing Benjamin awakened something inside me that I had never felt before. It scared me, but at the same time, I wanted more.

  I was trying to think of a way to express this to Polly, when my thoughts were interrupted by the familiar scuffle of boots running over concrete.

  I glanced up and saw Harper running up to me, a giant smile spread over her face and a paper card in her hands.

  She plopped down on the steps and handed me the card.

  “This is for you,” she said, but before I get a chance to respond she was running off again to join a few other girls playing hopscotch.

  “I can’t believe that’s the same child that wouldn’t speak word to anyone last fall,” Polly observed. “You really did a great job with her, Lia.”

  “Thanks,” I said absently, too distracted by the card in my lap to really hear or process what Polly said.

  It was a piece of pink construction paper that has been folded in half. In Harper’s shaky handwriting, spelled out in giant crayon letters, the front of the card read “THANK YOU.” Beneath the words, there was a stick figure drawing of a family, scrawled in the same shaky hand. There was a tall man with a blob of brown hair, and he was holding hands with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Rapunzel, and she was holding hands with a little girl. A little girl with Macaroni-Orange curls and a pink princess dress. Underneath the three smiling figures, there was a round blue bowl full of squiggly brown lines, which I assumed represented Ramen noodles.

  Polly leaned over, resting her chin on my shoulder to inspect the card.

  “Holy shit,” she said under her breath.

  “What?” I asked, automatically defensive of Harper’s card. “It’s a sweet picture of the three of us. She probably liked that we all spent time together last night.”

  “Is that what it is?” Polly asked skeptically. “Three people just hanging out? Or did she draw a family?”

  I hadn’t thought about it like that, but now, when I glanced back down at the card, it’s all I could see, a family of three, holding hands, smiling.

  Shit.

  I opened the card and I was surprised to see that the message inside wasn’t written in Harper’s jittery penmanship. Rather, the message inside was scrawled neatly in black pen ink. Somehow, I knew immediately that it was Benjamin’s handwriting.

  I instinctively pulled the card closer to my chest, trying to hide the message from Polly. The message was short and to-the-point, but it still took me about twenty attempts at reading and re-reading it before the words sink in:

  “You turned what could have been the worst night in the world, into the best. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I hope you’ll let me thank you in person. Dinner?”

  7

  BENJAMIN

  “Your sister did what?!” My mother practically yelled as she sat across from me in the small cafe. My dad hadn't arrived yet, he was coming late with my brother Abraham. But I couldn't keep it in any longer. Especially since when I sat down I realize that there was a paper crumpled up in my back pocket, and when I unfolded it, it was very clearly a drawing that Harper had made. And once my mother saw that, she wasn't taking no for an answer.

  She said with her shoulder-length blonde hair, and perfect manicured nails, fuming. I could tell it was taking all of her restraint not to Shift in the restaurant. That would have been all over the tabloids if she had. The Famed Johnsons, Shifter Questions Finally Answered!

  “Why didn't you call us? We would have taken her! Benjamin I'm sorry but you are not fit to have a child in your house. You have no idea how to parent!”

  “I sure as hell don't, but we're making it work. Celeste picked me Mom, I have no idea why but here we are.”

  Sure, I hadn’t really thought about being a dad, but Harper and I worked together. Honestly Lia made it easier, but I wasn’t bringing that up with a fuming she-bear right now.

  “It would have been nice if you would have found a mate first. Settle down, become a real family.”

  “You mean just like Celeste? You're still pissed that she had Harper out of wedlock. And that she's half human.”

  “I do not care that that child is partially human! Don't take that tone with me. But yes, I care that's the Celeste did not create her family the way that we planned. But that doesn't mean that we love Harper any less. And we've always been clear with Celeste about that, that if she couldn't care for her. The clan…”

  “Always takes care of our own,” I finished for her. It was a phrase that I had heard a million times growing up. She sighed just as my father and Abraham walked in.

  Abraham hadn't even pulled out his chair when he realized something was going on. “Why are we arguing?”

  “We're not arguing,” I responded. “We're just having an animated discussion.”

  “Like hell. What's going on?”

  “Harper is living with me. Celeste is in California in some type of hospital. I guess rehab?”

  “Rehab? Like the real kind? Or the kind for people like us?” My father asked in a low voice.

  “I don't have any details.” Though I wished I did. I could remember them dragging Celeste to the facility for shifters who didn’t honor their animal. People who saw things, heard voices. It was a nightmare. If you are a shifter, you have to Shift. The Change is so important to us. I do it every Thursday night, I go for a run in the Shyft’s own private conservatory. Everyone had their specified time so if you wanted to be alone, you could. A tiger or a lion and a bear in the same space wouldn’t be ideal. All of our hotels and condos were set up that way.

  “And how is Harper? How is she doing with all this?” My mother presses.

  I shrugged, “The kid is pretty resilient I'll give her that. But any Cub is going to be thrown off by not having a mommy anymore. Uncle Benjamin just isn't the same. But she's good you know? She loves school, she has this teacher, Lia,” I immediately watched my mother's eyes narrow and corrected my statement, “Miss Lewis, who loves her. She's really helped her grow as a child.”

  “And we will help her grow as a shifter,” my father added.

  “Of course we will,” Abraham agreed. “So is the little cub at school now?”

  “Yeah. I go pick her up in a couple hours. It's a half-day today.”

  “Half-day, look at you sounding like a real dad. Like you know what you're talking about.”

  “Hey, I'm trying. But let's take the attention off me, what about you Abraham, have you found a mate yet?”

  Abraham practically spit out his drink, “Really? Bro, you know that we don't push that subject in front of the parents.”

  “And why wouldn't you?” My mother asked.

  “Because you're insane,” Abraham responded.

  “Don't talk to your mother like that,” my father scolded him, and I enjoyed the break in attention.

  “Mates are an issue that none of us are prepared for. Hell, Benjamins the oldest and now he has a kid before he has a mate.”

  “Maybe you’ll feel differently once you’ve met the right person,” my mother said as she took my father’s hand in hers.

  Immediately my mind went to Lia. I remembered how stunning she looked the other night, her blonde hair in loose waves and her blue eyes reflecting the want that I felt for her. I remembered how she felt in my arms, how her lips tasted. I felt myself get hard just imagining how good her body would taste. I shifted around in my seat awkwardly.

  Maybe I should have used more restraint that night. Maybe I should have held back, or kept things platonic between us. I was tempted by beautiful women on a daily basis, and I had no problem saying no. But with Lia, my bear had other plans. I felt so certain that I neede
d her. And watching her rush out of my apartment left me feeling so confused and conflicted.

  I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since then.

  I had to see her again.

  8

  LIA

  By the time Friday rolled around, I somehow rebranded Benjamin’s dinner invitation as a ‘teacher meeting.’ You know, the sort of meeting that a concerned parent (or, in this case, emergency custodian) arranged with a sympathetic teacher (in this case, me) to discuss the academic future and developmental well-being of their precocious child (in this case, Harper).

  During my tenure at Vivatin Day, I have played the role of sympathetic teacher at plenty of these dinner meetings. I’ve listened compassionately as housewives fretted about their child’s pending admission to prep school. I’ve soothed absentee fathers who wondered why their kid had turned into a playground bully.

  These meetings usually took place somewhere sterile and uninspired; over bento boxes on Lexington Avenue, or bodega sandwiches nibbled on a bench in A park. These ‘meetings’ definitely did not take place in a Michelin-star rated restaurant, and definitely not over a bottle of Jacques Selosse champagne that cost more than my monthly share of the rent payment back in Williamsburg.

  As soon as I reached the doors of the Shyft Hotel West to meet Benjamin, all of my carefully crafted convictions of this being a strictly-business ‘meeting’ arranged to discuss Harper’s well-being at Vivatin went straight out the window.

  As soon as I saw him waiting, hands tucked into the pockets of a sleek black slim-fit suit, face illuminated in the glow of a street lamp, I realized that it was, indeed, a date.

  And I was screwed.

  Benjamin reserved a table for us in a dimly-lit corner of the Shyft Hotel West’s restaurant, Woodsy. The restaurant was full of the chatter of fellow diners, but our little corner felt blissfully private. I was the sole object of Benjamin’s attention.

  And sitting there, under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, the memory that I had tried so hard to suppress all week -- the memory of our kiss -- was suddenly on the forefront of my mind.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked me after the waiter pours our champagne and scurries away.

  “Not at all, Mr. Johnson,” I fibbed, hoping he doesn’t see the way my heart was pounding furiously against my rib cage.

  “I insist you call me Benjamin,” he said, almost sternly.

  “Mr. Johnson,” I repeated stubbornly, intent on holding my own in this conversation. “I prefer to keep things professional with the parents of my students.”

  “Miss Lewis,” Benjamin said, trying out my name and smiling, like he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “Let’s drop this charade. We wouldn’t be sitting here if we hadn’t already crossed that line.”

  “That was a mistake,” my cheeks turned hot pink. “A lapse of judgement.”

  “Was it?” Benjamin asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “The way your heart’s about to burst through your blouse suggests otherwise.”

  I flicked my eyes down to the low neckline of my black silk blouse, an item I borrowed from Polly’s closet when my own wardrobe failed to provide anything suitable for my not-a-date with Benjamin.

  He took a coy sip of champagne, reveling in watching my nerves simmer.

  “Why did you agree to meet me tonight?”

  “I was under the impression that we could clear the air, Mr. Johnson, share a professional meal and discuss how this transition is going to impact Harper’s performance at Vivatin.”

  I hated the sound of those words as they came out of my mouth. It was the same kind of canned, generic phrasing that the administration at Vivatin just loved to use when discussing a “problem child.” I hated that kind of talk, and it was obvious from the disdain on Benjamin’s face that he hated it too.

  “Drop the act, Lia,” Benjamin said sharply. “If I wanted a parent-teacher conference, I would have barged into the headmaster’s office already. We both know that I’m not here to play the role of whiney parent, alongside the fact that you’re not here to play the mousy little teacher.”

  I gulped on my champagne, forcing myself to swallow and breathe. If anyone else spoke to me that way, I’d be furious. Growing up, I learned early on to stand my ground. But I did not feel an ounce of anger then, simmering in the heat of Benjamin’s stare. I felt wildly turned on, like my entire body was engulfed in the energy between us. And while every instinct I had told me to resist, my brain could not stop my panties from growing wetter or my heart from hammering harder.

  Benjamin Johnson was different tonight. This was not the same Benjamin that sat in my office a few days ago, or the one that served Ramen noodles and watched a Disney movie with his niece. He was in his element. Powerful.

  “So why are we here?” I asked, forcing myself to match the intensity of his tone.

  “You already know the answer to that, too.” He moistened his lips with a quick flick of his tongue, and I remembered how he tasted that night.

  “You should know that I don’t date,” I said firmly.

  “Good,” he smiled. “Neither do I.”

  “And I don’t do,” I paused, struggling to find the right word, before finally settling on, “whatever this is.”

  “This is just dinner,” Benjamin said, flashing an innocent smile.

  Before I had a chance to protest, the waiter intruded to take our order. I hadn’t even opened my menu yet, but Benjamin ordered for us both, and my mind was racing with so many flustered, conflicting thoughts that I barely listened as he did.

  “I’m surprised that you picked this place.”

  “Why?” Even with one word, one syllable, his voice had a way of challenging me. Issuing an unspoken dare. He had made his point loud and clear. We were on his territory now, and he was the one in charge.

  “It’s a hotel,” I said, taking a sip of champagne and making a mental note to pace myself. My body already feels drunk on Benjamin’s presence. I did not need my head to go, too.

  “Isn’t a hotel the perfect place for a d-” he paused, for dramatic effect, eyeing me coyly before finishing, “Dinner?”

  I didn’t bother pointing out that my usual dinner selections are limited to microwave meals and PB&J sandwiches. I certainly did not frequent five-star hotels and restaurants.

  “Maybe it’s because I grew up in hotels,” he speculated, his eyes wandering around the moody little restaurant now. “But I’ve always found something so sensual and exciting about them.”

  “Really?”

  “People aren’t themselves in hotels. They’re strangers exploring a foreign land, and that somehow inspires them to become someone better, a more exciting version of themselves. They dress up, they order room service, they upgrade to the junior suite, they pay extra for a bottle of champagne instead of prosecco. And the best part is, that if two of these fascinating strangers meet and the mood strikes, pure bliss is just a room key away.”

  “I thought only junkies rented hotel rooms by the hour,” I said defiantly.

  I know what you’re trying to do, Benjamin Johnson. But I am not falling for it.

  “Besides,” I added, pausing for a sip of champagne, “What you’re describing isn’t sensual. It’s just so empty.”

  “How so?” he frowned.

  “Fake people having fake conversations with other fake people in a hotel bar, until they’ve mustered enough fake intimacy to have some fake sex in a fake hotel room?” I scoffed. “It sounds completely contrived and meaningless.”

  “Life is contrived and meaningless,” Benjamin said deeply. “And you want to talk about fake? Relationships are fake. Intimacy is a lie. Love dies, marriages break apart, people cheat, people hurt each other, people abandon their families. But connecting with another human, even if it’s a stranger, even if it’s only for a few fleeting moments of passion in a hotel room, that’s real.”

  My heart was pounding through the veins of my neck and I was not sure if it’s Benja
min or the champagne, but my head was spinning.

  “I disagree.”

  “Why?”

  “Intimacy means different things to men and women.” My own cynicism was the only thing keeping me grounded now, and I took a deep breath before continuing. “Sex isn’t fulfilling to everyone. I think women need more than that, to feel true intimacy. I think women need love.”

  “Sounds like you haven’t been having sex with the right kind of people,” Benjamin eyed me intently.

  ...or at all, I wanted to add, but I bit my tongue, determined to keep a level head through dinner. I sat back in my chair, and tried to clear my head. I tried to remember why I thought this was a good idea.

  I felt my stomach twist and my heart hammered against my ribs, and I could feel the effect of his intense gaze all the way down to the slick heat growing between my thighs. It was becoming all too easy to soothe my nerves with champagne, and I knew that I should stop.

  He was a predator after all. A bear.

  And I was starting to feel like Goldilocks.

  9

  BENJAMIN

  Charleston was a nightmare at night, but the thought of seeing Lia lit up under the glittering lights as we strolled downtown was enough to make me stomach the trek after dinner.

  I offered her my arm when we left the restaurant, and she didn’t protest. She tucked her hand into the crease of my elbow, and I felt a throb of hot excitement when she pressed her body against mine. My bear growled beneath the surface at passersby reminding them that she was ours. Thank God they couldn’t hear him.

  A few years ago, when I was still impatient and impulsive, I wouldn’t have made it through dinner with a girl like Lia Lewis. Especially not with her tits tempting me through that silk blouse.

  The old Benjamin Johnson would have thrown her over his shoulder, right there in the hotel dining room, and carried her all the way to the concierge desk to demand a room. The old Benjamin Johnson would have brought her upstairs, thrown her onto the bed, and teased and tantalized every inch of her body, until she cried out in defeat, admitting that I was right about sex and intimacy.