Page 10 of Highland Heat

“Breakfast?” he asked, holding up the basket.

“I could eat,” I said.

I looked around the space, taking in the goats that he had and the little pen he had put me in temporarily. I spotted a familiar fence post. The one that was slightly crooked. It was such a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Where are we?” I asked. We could’ve been two minutes from my house or three states away. It was disorienting not to have a clue of my physical location. The déjà vu had me more disorientated.

He chuckled. “I tried to tell you.”

“I was busy,” I said. I didn’t remember him bringing it up, but my mind and body had been preoccupied for the past few days. I was too busy for anything else.

He laughed again, pink rising in his cheeks. My mate was a shy one when I wasn’t in the throes of heat, tearing off his clothes. Adorable.

“I think we both have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

Oh yeah, my mate barely knew anything about shifters or where I came from.

“Are there more chores to be done, or can we sit and talk?” I asked.

“Goats are fed, chickens are taken care of, everything else can wait.”

“Are you sure?” I didn’t want to keep him from his responsibilities, and I was more than willing to work alongside him if he gave me some direction as to what needed doing. Also, the two of us being fully focused on the conversation was far better than worrying about the next task that needed doing.

“I’m sure.”

“Two days in bed didn’t put you behind on things?” It had to, right?

He nodded. “It did, but if all goes well, I’ll have two sets of hands instead of one.” He winked.

It was as if Graham sensed when I needed reassurance and made sure I got it.

“I guess that’s true.” No guessing to it. It was true.

“Coffee?” he asked, and I nodded.

I sat down in the rocking chair on the porch, that post stealing all my attention. There was something too familiar about it, like I’d been here before. In my head I kept seeing it as the one where I shifted that first time. It couldn’t be, though? Could it?

Most people would go see if that was indeed the post where I’d left my belongings two days ago instead of letting the idea take root and fester in their mind. But I was more of a lazy omega these days, and right now, I was waiting for my mate to come back out. No point going over there for nothing. I was disorientated, nothing more.

Graham went into the house and came back out with a mug of coffee and a carafe.

“Smart. Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. On the weekends I like to sit out here and have a whole pot to myself, just listening to the sounds of the farm.”

That sounded heavenly. The only thing that would make it better was if I could sit here with him.

“So, Highland shifter? You only turn into a Highland bull, right?” That hadn’t been the question I’d been expecting.

I nodded. “Yeah, nothing else.”

“And there’s other types? Of shifters, I mean?”

I nodded. “There are. Highlands are quite rare here in the states, most of my family is from overseas.”

“That makes sense. So, werewolves are real?”

And we were where I thought this would’ve started. There were so many werewolves in media, it made sense that it was most people’s only frame of reference.