She didn’t just really like Ash, as she’d told Betsy. Rosemary was certain he was the one. She’d felt the connection before they’d even laid hands on each other. She didn’t have much experience with men, but this near-tangible thread between her and Ash pulled and pulled at her with a mystical force.
The biggest issue hanging over any potential relationship with Ash was a doozy. This family secret could be a dealbreaker. It would crush her if that was the result. So it was a good idea to tell Ash immediately about who—or what—she was. Better to be crushed now than destroyed later.
The secret she kept was a beast inside her. It was such a hushed secret that sometimes she forgot it herself, except at the new moon. Those nights, the big cat had to come out and prowl. On other days, they had control of the cat but could let them out at will. She hardly ever shifted voluntarily; she was afraid of the harm she could do to other humans.
On new moons, Rosemary felt at home within her own family. The DuChamps descended from a long line of panther shifters, and their clan had stalked the Gulf Coast for centuries. They lived large as humans, but once a month they disappeared into the shadows, leaving their NDA-bound house staff to supply standard, vague answers to prying questions from acquaintances, the media, and business associates.
The family, its house staff, and the family’s closest friends had been sworn to secrecy for centuries, and so far, none of the “Normals” had ever found out. Their secret was still a secret, as far as Rosemary knew. So how did the DuChamps, historically, tell their significant others about their secret identities? she wondered.
At what point would she tell Ash what she was? And how would she go about it? Her mother had had a difficult enough time schooling Rosemary on puberty and how babies were made, but she’d never prepared her on how to tell a future mate that they were getting mixed up with a shifter family.
“This family sure loves to keep their shit locked down,” Rosemary said with a sigh, poking at her sweet potato fries. “So locked down that a girl barely knows how to function in society.”
Accepting the idea of marrying a shifter was a big ask for anyone to accept. The idea that their children could inherit that pesky feline DNA? Putting herself in his shoes? That would be terrifying for anyone. And a mate from one of the most popular families in the city? Forget it. He would run for the hills, and Rosemary wouldn’t blame him. If he did run for it once he found out what she was, she had another, trickier, problem—how to keep him from blabbing about the DuChamps to everyone in town.
Wow, she thought, popping a sweet potato fry into her mouth. I am woefully unprepared for every extenuating circumstance, ain’t I? I sailed through high school, college, finishing school, and the world is my oyster should I choose to keep living with Daddy’s money. But the truth is, I don’t know shit.
Rosemary piled a fork-load of sauce with chicken into her mouth. She chewed on her thoughts and on the chicken. She had a feeling about Ash. She already knew they were meant to be together. Much in the same way that Daddy sometimes would talk about how he knew Mama was his mate. Lionel and Betsy may be old, stubborn sticks in the mud, but back in their day, it was said they were fated mates from the moment they met. If Rosemary understood all this correctly, this was the same feeling she got around Ash. As soon as she had set eyes on him, she knew he was the one.
So that was just how it was going to be. They were meant to be together. And he would just have to accept her for who she was, or she would suffer and pine for him forever. Maybe settle down with someone her daddy liked better, someone from the country club.
But she couldn’t see that happening. She only saw herself with Ash. If worst came to worst, maybe that trust fund would help soften the blow.
Chapter Four
Ash
“Baby, I was kind of hoping to drop that truth bomb with a little more finesse.”
Ash was white as a sheet as he listened to his girl Rosemary tell him her story from last night’s dinner at the DuChamp mansion.
“Finesse? I’d love to see you try to finesse Lionel and Betsy.” She stood with her arms crossed, looking as sexy as hell even though she showed almost no skin. Tonight they had decided to meet up at the cemetery to go for a walk and talk, to get to know each other. She was wearing a practical peacoat and jeans with some crazy-hot boots. Even covered up, his saucy little Rosemary was making his chinos feel tight.
“I just meant,” he continued, “that when you lower the boom, put some butter on it first.”
Ash stopped on the narrow walking path to help Rosemary step over a jumble of tree roots that had broken up the walking path in the oldest part of the cemetery.
Rosemary smiled. “Put some butter on the boom? Sure, the old time-tested butter boom. That your nickname for your little friend I had in my mouth the other night?”
The path widened again as they entered a small grove of trees, and he fell in beside her again. Ash had to admit he had sounded absurd. “I don’t know, I was just thinking of doing it a little more slowly. Let them get used to me being around. Like a drip, drip, drip of water that makes a beautiful canyon.”
Rosemary suddenly stopped and looked at Ash straight on. She had something serious to say. “Ash, what is your middle name?”
“Odd question to ask at this juncture, but okay. Lewis.”
The magnolia tree behind
