Page 4 of Claimed By the Grumpy Shifter

"I'm counting on it."

The way he says it, like he's talking about more than just the town, makes my stomach flutter with something I don't quite recognize. Want, maybe. The kind of want I've only read about in romance novels, the kind that makes heroines do stupid, wonderful things.

The bell chimes again, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Elisa pushes through the door with baby Emma on her hip, looking harried and beautiful in that effortless way that makes me simultaneously adore her and hate my own genetics.

"Chris, thank God you're here. Emma's teething and I couldn't find the—" She stops mid-sentence when she notices Marc, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Oh. Hi."

Marc turns toward them, and something changes in his posture. He goes very still, very alert, like a wild animal scenting a threat. It's subtle, but I notice because I can't seem to stop noticing everything about him.

"Elisa, this is Marc Steel. He just moved in across the street." I gesture between them, trying to ignore the weird tension that's suddenly crackling in the air. "Marc, this is Elisa, my employee and friend. And this little angel is Emma."

Emma chooses that moment to let out a shriek that could shatter glass, and Elisa bounces her while giving Marc an apologeticsmile. "Sorry, she's not usually this fussy. The teething is making her miserable."

"No problem," Marc says, but his voice is tight. He's looking at Emma like she might explode at any moment, and I realize he's probably one of those men who's terrified of babies. It's almost endearing, seeing this mountain of a man reduced to panic by a ten-month-old.

"Here, let me take her," I say, reaching for Emma. She comes to me willingly, her tiny fist immediately latching onto my hair. "There's my sweet girl. Are those teeth bothering you?"

I bounce her gently, making soft nonsense sounds that usually calm her down. It works. Her crying subsides to hiccupping whimpers, and she settles against my shoulder with a contented sigh.

When I look up, Marc is staring at me with an expression I can't read. His amber eyes are almost glowing, and there's something fierce and hungry in his face that makes me wonder what he’s thinking.

"You're good with her," he says, his voice rougher than before.

"I love babies." The words slip out before I can censor them, along with a wistful sigh that probably broadcasts my deepest desires to everyone in the shop. "I mean, Emma's special. She's such a good baby."

Elisa snorts. "Tell that to Josh. He turned green the first time she spit up on him."

"How is Josh?" I ask, grateful for the distraction. Talking about other people's love lives is much safer than whatever was happening between Marc and me.

"Amazing. Wonderful. Still can't believe he's real sometimes." Elisa's face lights up in a way that makes my chest achewith envy. "He's taking us camping this weekend. Emma's first camping trip."

"That sounds perfect," I say, and I mean it.

I'm genuinely happy for Elisa. She deserves every bit of joy she's found with Josh. But there's a part of me that wonders if I'll ever have that, if I'll ever find someone who looks at me the way Josh looks at her.

My gaze slides to Marc, who's watching me hold Emma with that same intense stare. For a wild moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if he were looking at me holding our baby, if those strong hands were reaching out to touch—

Stop. Just stop.

I hand Emma back to Elisa before my imagination can run any further away with itself. "Did you need something specific, or were you just escaping the teething drama?"

"I’m going to meet Josh for lunch, then have a dentist appointment for Emma, and I wanted to make sure you didn't need me here." Elisa shifts Emma to her other hip, completely oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around us. "But it looks like you have things well in hand."

She glances between Marc and me, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks again. Of course she noticed. Elisa has an annoying talent for reading people, especially when it comes to romantic tension.

"Actually," Marc says, his voice cutting through my embarrassment, "I should probably get going. Let you ladies get back to work."

"Oh, you don't have to—" I start, but he's already moving toward the door.

"It was nice meeting you both." He pauses at the threshold, looking back at me. "Christine."

The way he says my name—like he's tasting it, savoring it—sends shivers down my spine. Then he's gone, leaving me staring at the empty doorway like an idiot.

"Holy shit," Elisa breathes.

"Language," I say, glancing at Emma.

"She's ten months old, Chris. And did you see the way he looked at you? Like he wanted to devour you whole."

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