Page 3 of Love in Unexpected Places

I want there to be

More than one night

I don’t want him to leave until the sun shines bright.

“Wow,” I say, a little stunned.

“Yeah,” he mutters, grabbing the napkin back, scratching some things out. “I don’t know, it’s very rough. Of course, I’ll iron out some stuff and?—”

“It’s really good. Is that what you do? Sit in bars, flirt with bartenders and get inspiration?”

August splutters. “What? I was … no … I just …”

I crack up laughing. “I’m just messing with you.” He looks relieved, sinking against the bar with red splotches high on his cheeks. “Seriously, what’s your process?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes stuff just pops in my head. I try to write it down, get the raw idea, then tweak it later. This,” he waves to the napkin, “will be much different by the time I finish with it.”

A few more people enter the bar and I excuse myself from the fantastic company of August to people loudly discussing what they would do if they spotted the creature in the water. I have to grind my teeth to keep my mouth shut.

Not one person said they just wanted to observe whatwas in the depths of the waters. Everyone wants to sell pictures of it to the highest bidder. Pictures ofmeto the highest bidder.

I still beat myself up for being seen. I didn’t see the boat that had crept up on me until it was too late. With my fin being as large as it is, it’s hard to stay hidden. Which is why I only go out late at night when the beaches are empty and I don’t surface until I’m so far in the ocean, no one in their right mind would be spotted there at that time of night.

Unfortunately for me, the boat that was out in the middle of the ocean was out for an early deep sea fishing trip and I’d lost track of time. But it had been so long since I let my Spinosaurus out, I was loathe to leave the water.

What sucked worse than being seen? Being forced to shift back two miles from shore and swimming back. If I didn’t have my Spinosaurus strength, I would have struggled. But I couldn’t risk being seen again.

The patrons that just walked in are no different. They want to expose my dino, get money and have no worry about the havoc they can cause because of it. There are many places I can move that are suitable for my dino, but I like the ocean. I like how large and vast it is. I can swim and hunt and enjoy my shift for as long as I’d like.

Maybe I’ll have to look for a new place to live so I can enjoy that once more.

The whole time I’m mixing drinks for the six newcomers, August is nursing his drink, scribbling on the napkin and shooting me shy smiles. I’m definitely going back to his room tonight, even if it’s just to talk.

There’s something about August that intrigues me. Mainly because he’s the only person that doesn’t want to take pictures of my shifted form. The way his eyes lit up when he said he wanted to see what else was out theremade me believe he was genuine. If he saw my other form, he wouldn’t sell my secret.

But I’ve never shown anyone my dino. I’ve been too afraid that the person who saw it would be afraid of me after I shifted back and want nothing to do with me, on top of telling anyone who would listen that I’m a fucking dinosaur. Well, a dinosaur shifter, but semantics.

With that thought heavy on my mind, I make my way back to August who perks up when I get within a few feet of him. “Getting busy now.” He almost sounds sad.

“Yeah, it will be for about an hour or so, then I’m off.” I can’t wait. I don’t think I can stomach more of people planning on how they’ll spend the money they’ll get from my exposure. I might take the next few days off. The influx of people and their greed isn’t helpful.

“Oh.” August drops his eyes, fiddling with a napkin. I see that while I was gone, he’d pulled a few more from the dispenser and they all have his beautiful scroll on them. “I was wondering if …”

His cheeks pink adorably, and I lean against the bar, grinning. “If I would come back to your room?”

August’s shoulders tense. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you get hit on all the time. And it’s not … I just want to talk to you uninterrupted.”

Smiling, I nod and make him another drink. “Yeah, okay. I have an hour left of my shift. You can wait or I can meet you at your room.”

“I’ll wait.”

We talk in between me making drinks for other patrons and through their terrible flirting. I always give them a grin so I don’t fuck up my tips, but I don’t take the bait.

Except with August.

In the five years I’ve been a bartender here, I’ve never agreed to go to someone’s room. I’m not sure what it isabout August that makes me want to now, but I’m going with it.

Finally, my shift ends and I clean up, tagging in the next bartender. The bar is open for another three hours and as August and I leave, about twenty people flood in. I’m sad about missing those tips, but when I look over at August, I think I’m getting the better end of the deal.

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