EUAN: Outback Shifters #3 Read online

  EUAN

  Outback Shifters #3

  Zoe Chant

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  A note from Zoe Chant

  More Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant

  Chapter 1

  “Remember, the butter goes on the bread first, then the sprinkles. Got it?”

  Delilah Park tried really hard to rein in her first response, which was to roll her eyes. As it was, she still couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of her voice as she replied, “Thanks for the reminder, Jenny, but it’s not exactly rocket science.”

  Her sister just laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Sorry, I know, I know! It’s just I really, really want Emma’s birthday party to be perfect. You know how judgmental six-year-olds can be. If I get one thing wrong, I know I’ll be hearing about it forever after.”

  Delilah bit her lip, letting her eyes drift over her sister’s white marble kitchen bench, which was packed full of traditional kids’ party snacks – chocolate crackles, angel cakes, honey joys, and of course fairy bread – all painstakingly handmade by her and Jenny over the past couple of hours.

  That was pretty normal, Delilah thought – kids got hungry, and if there was one time they were allowed to indulge in sugary snacks, it was at a birthday party. Jenny’s daughter Emma was turning six tomorrow, and Jenny of course wanted to be sure it would be celebrated in style. No, that wasn’t the issue at all. What was putting Delilah off was the fact that she very much suspected the vast majority of these snacks weren’t really intended just for the party; instead, they were intended mainly to look beautiful in photos, which would then be posted on Jenny’s wildly popular lifestyle blog.

  Delilah wasn’t all that certain Jenny was worried about the judgment of six-year-olds either, so much as the judgment of their mothers, and her massive readership.

  It was that, more than anything else, that made her bite her tongue to hold back her annoyed I don’t think Emma’s friends care about how even the sprinkles on the fairy bread are – they’re going to eat them, not put them on Insta.

  “I promise I know how to make fairy bread,” Delilah said, after biting back a slightly more impatient response. “But really, Jenny, you don’t need to worry so much about this stuff. The kids won’t mind. Emma won’t mind. I’m sure she just wants to have a fun time at her party.”

  Jenny pursed her lips, with their perfectly applied lipstick. “Well, there’s no harm in being prepared, Dela,” she said. “You know I like things to look nice.”

  Oh boy, do I ever, Delilah thought, going back to gently shaking sprinkles over a piece of evenly buttered white bread.

  It was only all the, well, effort Delilah knew Jenny put into making her life look effortless that meant she didn’t lose patience with her, even if she wished she could just tell her that not everything had to be picture perfect at all times.

  Like me, she thought, swallowing a little.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair.

  But she knew her own life couldn’t be more different from Jenny’s, even if she’d deliberately set out to make it that way.

  Which she swore she hadn’t! It’s just that she and Jenny had always been very, very different people – Jenny had her extremely popular blog, her sponsored cooking series on YouTube, her ridiculously handsome and successful husband, her two utterly adorable daughters, her white marble kitchen, her massive pool, her balcony overlooking Sydney Harbour, her golden Labrador…

  … And Delilah had her rented room – it was a studio apartment, dammit! – in Surry Hills that was stuffed full of painting canvases, artist’s easels, paintbrushes, drop sheets, and mountains upon mountains of art supplies.

  Not to mention, Delilah thought, with only a little bitterness, all the unsold paintings.

  She’d loved to paint since she’d been just a kid. She’d never been that great at any of the subjects her parents and teachers had told her were really important, like maths. She’d usually ended up doodling all over the backs of her science tests. She’d liked English, but she’d still found that she’d gotten more entertainment out of painstakingly sketching each and every one of the characters from the novels they studied – with three or four outfits each – than writing essays about them.

  Unlike Jenny, she hadn’t gone to university – she wasn’t sure what course she would’ve been able to get into with her dismal grades, even if she’d wanted to go. But she had been accepted to design school, on the strength of the portfolio she’d built up over the years. She’d loved it there, honing her painting skills and finding her creative voice. Her instructors had all told her she had a bright future ahead of her as an artist.

  But, well, so much for that, Delilah thought, with just the tiniest twinge of pain in her chest.

  She’d always known it was a risk. Making a living as an artist wasn’t easy, and it took a long time to establish a name for yourself.

  But, after five years of trying and failing to make an impression in the Sydney art world, it was kind of hard not to give up hope.

  Delilah knew she was incredibly lucky, regardless of how many paintings she did – or rather, didn’t – sell. She worked in a private gallery, showing potential buyers new works by successful artists that sold for eye-watering amounts of money… well, eye-watering to her, anyway.

  Sure, it wasn’t selling her own work, but she still got to work with art, learn about it, and talk about it. She was content with the life she had, even with her tiny, cramped studio apartment, her complete lack of a golden Labrador, and her absolutely non-existent love life.

  “By the way,” Jenny said smoothly, her eyebrow raised. “My invite to Emma’s party did say you could bring a plus one. Did you notice?”

  Is she a mind reader? Can I add that to her ever-expanding list of domestic skills? Delilah lowered her face to hide her slight grimace.

  “You know I won’t be doing that,” she said after a moment, shaking her head. “Where do you think I’d keep a boyfriend? There isn’t room for one in my apartment.”

  “Oh, still no news on that front then?” Jenny sighed, as she began stacking cooled honey joys efficiently into a pastel pink tin with red lovehearts around the rim. She looked up, smiling, and Delilah felt a chill run down her spine.

  Oh no. Oh no. I know that look.

  “Well, in that case, there’s someone I think you should meet. His name’s Davy – he’ll be at Emma’s party on Saturday.” Jenny leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, despite the fact they were the only two people in the kitchen.

  Yep. I knew it all right, Delilah thought, resisting the urge to groan.

  “Jenny –”

  “Just meet him before you turn him down, that’s all I’m saying!” Jenny cut her off, holding up her hands. “He’s so nice, Dela, and he’s just your type. I know you’ll love him once you meet him.”

  This time, Delilah really didn’t bother to hide her scowl. “Davy, huh? What is he? Seven?”

  Jenny blinked at her. “It’s short for David, obviously. He’s not seven, he’s general counsel for Edmont Barclay.”

  “Oh, so he has a silly name and he’s an investment banker,” Delilah groaned. “Honestly, Jenny, just what kind of guy do you t
hink my type is?”

  “It’s not a silly name,” Jenny said indignantly. “And like I said, he’s nice, he’s not bad-looking, and he’s successful and hard-working. Isn’t that everyone’s type? What is your type, then?”

  Someone who’ll take me on adventures. The thought popped into her head without her conscious will. Someone strong, but kind. Someone who’ll show me things I’ve never seen before. Someone I know I’ll never be bored with. Someone who’s caring and tough and maybe just a little bit wild…

  Swallowing, Delilah realized just how pie in the sky and naïve all of this sounded. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. Sure, she kind of had a bit of a weakness for bad boys with a heart of gold, but that kind of guy didn’t really exist outside of the tweeny novels she’d devoured while avoiding her school texts.

  Maybe settling down with a nice man with a good job and a suit really would be for the best, Delilah thought, a little glumly. If he was as successful as Jenny said, maybe he wouldn’t even mind if she wanted to keep working on her paintings…

  But as soon as she thought it, she pushed the idea aside.

  I won’t do that! I can be successful and happy on my own terms!

  “I don’t want to have an argument about it, Jen,” Delilah said, as conciliatorily as she could manage. This wasn’t, after all, the first time her sister had tried to set her up with a guy – usually someone perfectly nice, and perfectly boring. “I appreciate it, really. But I think if you only invited Davy to the party to introduce him to me, you should probably just uninvite him now and let him down easy.”

  “But you haven’t even met him!” Jenny threw her hands up, her voice coming perilously close to a wail. “And Mum gets so worried about you, living in that part of town all by yourself!”

  “It’s fine there!” Delilah snapped. As long as you don’t go down dark alleys by yourself in the middle of the night, she mentally added – but you could say that about just about anywhere! “Honestly, both of you are worried about nothing. I’ve never been mugged or anything, have I?”

  “There’s a first time for everything, Dela,” Jenny said, looking at her as if she possessed arcane knowledge on the subject. “And wouldn’t you feel better living somewhere a bit bigger? With more than one room, at least?”

  “Like you said, I haven’t even met the guy,” Delilah said, exasperated. “Can you please not plan our moving in together just yet?”

  “All right, all right – just, please, will you at least promise me you’ll say hello to him at the party?” Jenny said, looking at her in a way that was almost beseeching. “Just so I can tell Mum I tried?”

  “Just how much do you guys even talk about me?” Delilah wondered aloud – but then, seeing the look on Jenny’s face, she sighed. “All right – I promise I’ll talk to him. But no more than that, all right?”

  “And that you won’t make any hasty judgments,” Jenny said. “Try to keep an open mind. You might really like him!”

  Delilah nodded. You never know, she might be right, she tried to tell herself. “I promise I’ll give him a fair hearing.”

  “Thank you, Dela!” Jenny’s eyes were shining, and Delilah had to wonder how much pressure their mother had been putting on her to help her wayward younger sister find a man. “You won’t regret it, I just know it. I have such a good feeling about the two of you.”

  Just like you had such a good feeling about the last five guys you tried to set me up with, Delilah thought – but she kept the thought to herself. She wasn’t keen to shatter the harmony between them, even if it had been won at the cost of the tiniest bit of her dignity.

  Ugh.

  As Delilah began to help Jenny pack up the party foods, they were both distracted by the sound of the front door opening, and then slamming closed.

  “Oh, that’ll be Rosie home from school,” Jenny said, looking up. “I’m a little busy here – would you mind going and seeing how she is?”

  “Sure thing,” Delilah said, as she turned away with a smile. She couldn’t help but admit, if only to herself, that half the reason she’d agreed to come and help Jenny with her party preparation was so that she’d have an excuse to come over and see her eldest niece, Rosie.

  Not that she really needed an excuse, she supposed – Jenny was always happy to have her come round. But Delilah did always feel that, with her oversized sweaters, track pants, and scruffy hair, she was messing up Jenny’s decor just a little. She owned a few suits that were a requirement for work, but other than that, fancy clothes were simply not something that fit into her budget.

  She found Rosie toeing off her shoes in the entryway, schoolbag still slung over her shoulder, her long black hair falling over her face. At twelve, Rosie had just gone through a major growth spurt, and she often looked a little like she was still getting used to suddenly being much taller.

  “Hey, Rosie-posy,” Delilah said as she approached, using the nickname she’d given Rosie when she’d been a little kid. “You have a good day at school?”

  Rosie looked up, eyes wide with surprise, before a huge, goofy grin spread over her face.

  “Aunty Dela! I didn’t know you’d be here!”

  Delilah couldn’t help but admit that the sight of her niece’s happiness at seeing her made her heart glow with warmth. Jenny had confided in her that she sometimes worried about Rosie – her grades at school were fine, but she was a quiet kid and didn’t seem to have many friends. She was shy around strangers and a little clumsy, and her teachers said she often seemed like she was in her own little dream world, rather than paying close attention in class.

  Just like I was when I was twelve, Delilah thought as she pulled Rosie into a hug.

  “Yeah, I’m just here to help your mum with some stuff for Emma’s party tomorrow,” Delilah said – and then watched in surprise as the smile completely fell from Rosie’s face.

  “Oh. Okay.” Rosie looked down, shuffling her bag on her shoulder. “I guess I better go do my homework, then. Since you’re busy.”

  “Hey, Rosie, you know I’m not too busy to talk to you,” Delilah said, confused, as Rosie went to brush past her. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Rosie mumbled without stopping, heading for the large, elegant staircase at the end of the foyer.

  “Hey, come on, Rosie,” Delilah said, following her as she began to stomp her way up the stairs.

  Was I this sulky and moody when I was her age too? Delilah asked herself, before deciding, Probably.

  Delilah hung back a little, though she kept following until Rosie made her way to her bedroom, slamming the door dramatically behind her.

  Ah, geeze, Delilah thought, trying to figure out what she could have said that had upset her. I only mentioned Emma’s party, and then…

  Delilah shook her head. Rosie might be going through a moody phase, but she wasn’t a spoiled brat – could her mood swing really just be down to jealousy because Emma was having a party?

  “Hey, Rosie – can I come in?” Delilah knocked gently on Rosie’s bedroom door. “I’ll go away in a minute if you don’t want to talk, but I’m here if you do.”

  She waited, not really expecting an answer. But then, a moment later, the door cracked open again the tiniest bit, and Rosie’s sad face peeped out.

  “You can come in. I guess.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” Delilah said as she opened the door a little wider and entered, closing it softly behind her as Rosie went back across the room to flop down on her bed, face buried dramatically in her pillow.

  Rosie’s room was about the size of Delilah’s entire studio back home, and the way she had it decorated was a mix of the young childhood she was just beginning to leave behind, and the adolescence she still hadn’t quite entered. There were plush rabbits – her favorite animal – lining her bookshelves and sitting on her bed, but some of the pictures of bunnies having tea parties had begun to be replaced by cut-out photographs of some pink-haired boy named Jungkook who made Delilah feel old just by looking at hi
m.

  “Rosie, is something up? Did something happen at school?” Delilah asked, sitting down on the end of Rosie’s bed. She didn’t want to jump straight to what she thought the problem might be – thinking back to herself at that age, she knew that taking that approach would just make her deny it.

  “No,” Rosie replied, her voice muffled by her pillow.

  “You didn’t have a fight with one of your friends?”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  Delilah smiled a little to herself, since Rosie couldn’t see it.

  “What about Amanda? Didn’t you tell me about her a couple of weeks ago?”

  Rosie shook her head, still not looking up. “She’s not my friend. I told her a secret, and she went off and told Elodie right away.”

  “That was pretty nasty of her,” Delilah admitted, feeling the pained outrage of betrayal in her own heart. There was nothing more important to a twelve-year-old girl than having a secret, after all – and Delilah knew that if someone as shy as Rosie had actually revealed a secret, then it must have meant a lot to her. “I’m so sorry she didn’t turn out to be someone you could trust, Rosie. That must really hurt.”

  Rosie didn’t move or say anything else, and Delilah wondered if her hurt feelings over Amanda’s betrayal were the reason she was upset after all, and her mentioning Emma’s party was just a coincidence.

  “Want me to go tell her off for you?” Delilah asked after a long moment of silence.

  As expected, Rosie scrambled upright on the bed, turning to look at her, wide-eyed with horror. “No!”

  Delilah bit back her small smile. “Okay, I won’t do that. But did you tell your mum? Sounds like this Amanda should have someone tell her it’s not nice to spread other people’s secrets around. Maybe your mum could talk to her mum about it.”