Fox Daddy

Hazel left Winter Haven the night the wards came down.

Chapter One - Daniel

Rubbing my flour-covered hands over my face, I watched as the little fox stuck her petulant tongue out at me and then curled into a ball on the top shelf of the bookshelf. Glass from the decorative bowl littered the floor, mixing with the dry goods that her equally bratty twin brother had been tossing from the cupboard to the floor. Sugar crunched under my boots, egg shells cracked and leaking on the hardwood. I wanted to sink to the ground and just let them run wild, but the long face of my late mate’s favorite horse sticking in through the kitchen door reminded me that giving up wouldn’t serve any one of us.

“Little fox,” I called, looking up at my three year-old daughter, her white snout the only thing I could see from where she was hiding between the two vases that had managed to avoid being knocked from the height by her tail. “I’m not angry, just disappointed.”

I tried not to gnash my teeth as another glass jar hit the floor and rice scattered, hitting my boots. The parenting books didn’t cover the subject of children changing into woodland creatures and hiding in tight spaces. They did cover good-intentioned messes. I took a long breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. Calm. I had to remain calm. That’s what all the books said. Calm.

More shattering glass did not help.

The sun was already peeking through the front curtains, which meant I was hours late for a day that should have started with the first glimpse of dawn. “Emily Elizabeth,” I tried not to growl up at the fox who had knocked over yet another vase. “Get your furry butt down here, it’s time for school.”

“Breakfast first,” replied the little boy who was deep in the pantry, naked backside pointed towards me as he picked up an unopened bag of flour from the very back. I watched as it tumbled to the floor, bursting with a puff of white that left a coating on everything in a five foot radius, including my jacket hanging from the hook by the door. “We want pancakes.”

“That’s a lovely idea,” I grumbled, taking in the destruction that had once been my pristine kitchen. The kitchen that should have been full of the ranch hands this time of day, topping up their coffees before finishing morning chores. Instead it was covered in a layer of sugar, flour, shattered glass, I took a step towards where Elijah was wiggling further into the pantry and stopped halfway when I felt an egg crunch under my foot. Fucking hell. “But Ms. Sara is waiting for you munchkins. Maybe we make some this weekend.” I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension pop. Not gonna have nothing to make lunch, let alone pancakes unless I find time to hit the grocery before now and Saturday morning. Every bag of flour was on the ground, the eggs the kids helped me collect from the hen house were all cracked and ruined. “How about we get dressed, Jackson brought in donuts yesterday.”

“Daddy,” sighed a little voice from the top of the bookshelf. “You said no donuts in the morning.”

“I know, but today…” I pinched my nose again, trying to keep all the frustration contained. “We just need something I don’t have to cook.”

The last vase lost its battle with gravity and shattered on the ground.

“Look here,” I ground out, reaching up to grab the tiny leg hanging over the edge of the shelf, pulling the squirming Emily into my arms. The little pout on her face would have been cute any other time. “We are late, the house is a mess, and there are no more eggs to make us any pancakes.” I tossed Elijah over my shoulder and stomped over to the stairs. “Do either of you think a pancake reward has been earned?”

“We wanted to make you specials,” my son huffed, his little hands fisting in the back of my shirt. “You earned the specials.”

“And you both have earned a bath and hair washing.”

“Nooooooo!” Emily cried, twisting in my arm, trying to get out of the dreaded shampoo. “No hair washes!” With a little grunt, a white fox pup burst from my princess, her tiny needle teeth sinking into the flesh of my forearm.

With a sigh I deposited them in the bathroom, closing the door behind us, and fisted my hands in my hips. “No biting Daddy,” I growled, rubbing the little drops of blood and letting out a frustrated grunt as flour mixed with it, leaving a sticky red paste down my arm. “Baths then school. We will talk about the mess once you get home.”

The mess was the least of my problems, to be honest. Without a nanny, I had completely lost control of my house. Honestly, until the moment that Mrs. Henderson had walked out of the house, a harried look on her face, I hadn’t realized how much of a handful two little fox shifters could actually be. Not now that they had learned to shift.

With a frustrated grunt, I switched on the water and shoved the plug into the bottom of the old clawfoot tub. Next to me two little fox cubs watched me with watery eyes. “Now don’t you two start. This is the least of it. You’re covered in all kinds of stuff, we’re taking baths, and then off to school.”

Their little whines pulled at my heartstrings. They needed a momma. They needed their momma. I needed their momma. Even nearly a year and a half after she was taken from us, my chest hurt without her. Fated mates were supposed to be forever.

“Come on, kiddos, in the bath.” I scooped Elijah up and dumped his furry butt in the tub, followed by Emily. Fox or human, they would get cleaned either way.

*****

Thor’s head was still stuck through the kitchen door. The pretty chestnut horse watched me expectantly, the jar of sugar cubes had been spared the children’s need to make pancakes this morning. The floor was still covered in glass and ingredients, but I braved the gauntlet and fished a few cubes from the jar and held them out to Thor, who snuffled them up and gave me a grateful head nod before backing out of the kitchen and down the porch, heading to his stall. Fucking horse had learned how to unlock it ages ago, along with opening the back door of the house. So far he had only used his superpower to get more treats, and hadn’t decided to let the rest of the ranch loose, but I would need to address the little trick eventually. Shit like that was just on a long list of things the ranch needed. And without my mate, they had just fallen by the wayside. Putting money into childcare, into ranch hands to make up for the time that I had to take out of the work day to raise my children alone, into paying down the medical bills that still buried me. Shifters weren’t supposed to get sick, so insurance covered next to nothing.

Watching as Thor let himself back into the stable and tucked his obnoxious ass into his stall, I tried to push away the thoughts of watching my Elaine wither away, hustled the kiddos into their boots and out the door. My eyes burned as I clipped them into their seats and then got into my truck, starting the engine.

She hadn’t gone quickly. It had been so slow, painful. While shifters didn’t suffer illnesses like cancer or even colds and the flu, we did have a few things that could take us down. My Ellie had developed an autoimmune disorder after having our pups. It happened, but not often enough that it would have even been on our radar until she started to go down. Both in her human skin and her fox, her body started to destroy itself. First it was hair loss. She would come out of the shower with fists full of hair that had come out. Doc confirmed it a few weeks later, when she started losing her appetite and couldn’t get out of bed.

“Ain’t nothing can be done,” he told me, patting my back as I watched her slowly become a shell of herself. “I can keep her comfortable, but that’s all.”

I could still feel the depth of the ache in my chest that those words had caused. A bruise down to my soul, left to fester and spread. The twins were so tiny, and without their momma, they had been handed off to our neighbor to help watch, while I sat by Elaine’s bedside. Her hands in mine became more and more skeletal. Her eyes sunken into her face as she watched nothing. It took six months for her body to give up, and her eyes to close for the final time.

Shaking my head, I put the truck in park and laid my head back against the seat. “Couldn’t have been me,” I growled, fisting my hand against my forehead, waiting for the stabbing pain of her loss to release my chest long enough so that I could unbuckle my belt and get the kids inside. “Should have been me.”

Ms. Sara watched from the front door of the little nursery school. Her kind eyes followed me with a sadness that didn’t help at all. I passed off the twins with a kiss to each of their little foreheads, and a nod to the woman who hustled them inside.

“Late this morning,” she called after me, while I did my best to avoid conversation.

“Just a little bit of a morning, Sara,” I told her, arms crossed over my chest. I looked down at the dirt between our boots. She was a good twenty feet away, but it felt too close. “Got it all sorted.”

“You know, I am happy to come pick them up on my way in,” she offered for what felt like the hundredth time. I knew what she was after, and I didn’t want her up at the house. Fated mates meant forever. The thought of touching another woman made my stomach turn. “You need a good woman, Daniel.”

“I’ve got it covered, but I appreciate the offer,” I mumbled. Under my breath I added, “For the five hundredth time.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” Sara gave me a bright smile. She was a pretty woman, young, good with children, sweet as pie. She would make someone else a lovely mate. But not me, and she just didn’t get that.

“I’ll see you for pick up,” I said loud enough for her to hear easily. Loud enough that she knew the conversation was over. Slamming the door of my truck, I threw it into gear and reversed back down the windy road that connected the daycare to the town. My tires rumbled over the little bridge before I turned and headed back towards the ranch. Mentally, I ticked off all the things that I needed to get done in the short eight hours the kids would be in school. Including cleaning the mess in the kitchen.

The house was quiet without the kids or Thor running wild. In the kitchen was my foreman, Jackson, a broom in one hand and a wry smile on his face. “Rough morning?” he asked, sweeping glass and sugar up into a dustpan. “Just wanted some coffee, and discovered you don’t have any.” With a lift of his chin he pointed to where the contents of my coffee can were scattered over the floor over by the sink. “Might need to get more.”

“You don’t fucking say,” I growled, giving him the full brunt of my irritation. “Lost half the fucking day ‘cause Ms. Henderson couldn't handle a couple of shifter kids.” She had fucking bolted the moment the twins learned to shift. Last time I’d hire a human to watch the kids. Had known full well that they would eventually learn to shift, but hadn’t been able to hack it when it actually happened. “They tried to make me breakfast in bed.”

“Interesting technique,” he said, broom working over the wood floor. “Glass is a choice.”

“Knocked down the vases,” I lifted my chin to where Elaine’s vases had been set on the top of the bookshelf. I hadn’t been motivated to fill them with fresh flowers since she passed. “You got this?” Jackson just nodded and I looked down at my jeans, still caked with flour and sugar. “Gonna get cleaned up.”

I headed over to the stairs, my boots clicking against the hardwood. I pinched my nose, trying to wrap my head around the events of the morning. The older the kids got, the more independent they got. And independence meant more and more work on my end. Wasn’t sure how I could continue to do this alone.

“Grabbed the mail on my way up,” Jackson called, stopping me in my tracks. Fuck.

“You open it?” I asked, already knowing what he had picked up.

“Naw,” he drawled. “Not like you’re going to even entertain whatever they’re offering.”

“Ranch has been in my family for generations,” I grunted, agreeing. “It’s worth more than they could ever offer. Blood on this land is mine. Not gonna build some fucking resort here. Not over my dead body.”

“Get cleaned up, Boss,” Jackson laughed, waving me up the steps. “Lots of shit to do today. Fence is down along the back forty, and we can’t move the herd til it’s back up.”

“Shit,” I grumbled. “Wind the last few days, or we got fourwheelers fucking around back there again?”

“Couple of trees down from the last storm.” He shrugged. “We’re wasting daylight.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I stomped my way up the stairs and stood in the door of my bedroom. The pile of shirts that had lost buttons or needed minor repairs was getting out of hand. Walking right by, I pulled my flour covered shirt over my head, and dropped it into the hamper. I kicked off my boots and let my jeans slide down my thighs. A little puff of white followed the clunk of my belt buckle hitting the floor. Everything I had been wearing would need a good long wash to get all the pasted on flour out of it. “Today, I needed you,” I told the picture of Elaine that sat on the stand next to the bed. “I need you every day, but today was rough.”

Walking into the bathroom and twisting on the shower, I did my best not to think about her. I tried not to wallow in the pain that radiated through my body. It was what it was. The ache wouldn’t leave, it was my destiny as the remaining mate. I had to hold it together, though. I had two baby foxes who relied on me.

A frustrated growl rumbled out of my chest as I stepped into the scaling water. “I hate that you left us alone.”

*****

I hated going into town. Not only did it cut significantly into my work day–the twenty minute drive through the hills was a pain in the ass–but I also could feel the eyes on me. Some filled with pity, others accusing. The humans that lived in town might mingle with the shifters, but there was this cultural divide that spanned back centuries. Sterling Ridge was a shifter town. From the mayor all the way through the town council, we ran things. The fact that humans settled here was fine with me, I couldn't have cared less. But the rumors that spread through their part of the population had started to creep into the edges of shifter society.

“Heard he ate her,” a woman watching me from the checkout line whispered to her friend behind her hand. “After she gave him his kids, he killed her.”

“I heard he keeps her trapped in the attic, that the funeral was just for attention,” her friend whispered back. I rolled my eyes and headed through the produce section. Neither of the twins heard, as far as I could tell. They both sat kicking their legs in the cart, Emily clutching the shopping list in her hands.

“Can we get more apples?” my little girl asked, reaching out one hand and snagging a bright red apple while knocking over several others that tumbled to the ground, scattering around my feet.

Doing my best to not growl, I looked over at the produce manager, who gave me the stink eye. I bent over to pick up the apples.

“Too bad he’s a murderer,” the first woman giggled from behind me. “‘Cause look at that ass. Could bounce a fucking quarter off it.”

“Biteable,” her friend agreed. I felt sick.

Dropping the apples back on their stand, I pushed the cart through to the next section, where I couldn’t see them anymore.

“Daddy!” Emily cried, holding up the apple she had stolen. “I want apples!” Her little voice lifted up at the end, eyes brimmed with tears.

I pinched my nose and sighed, grabbing the closest fruit and handing it off to the kids. “Grapes,” I said. I pulled a bunch out and handed each kid a handful. “We have apples at home.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement. A woman in an unflattering green apron was watching us. “I’m gonna pay for them,” I muttered, tossing the rest of the bag in the cart, and trying not to look back at her haunting green eyes. Deep emerald pools sucked me in for a full half second, and my heart raced. “Ain’t stealing.”

“Didn’t think you were,” she said, sliding closer and giving the kids a sweet smile. “They’re absolutely adorable.” She handed my daughter a bright red apple. “You tell old Garry that this one’s on me.” She tapped the plastic name tag on her apron. “I’m Hazel, what’s your name?”