The Songstress and the Pirate Box Set (Dragon Shifter Romance)

Sea and song, and between the tide and the tune, there was love.
But not yet. Right now, I was sitting in my office chair staring at the tiny clock in the lower right of my computer screen. There were no second or minute hands, but I could feel them ticking away at an achingly slow pace.
“Miss Larkin!”
I jumped at the firm, deep male voice. The owner of the baritone stood in the narrow doorway of my corner cubicle, his dark eyes zeroed in on me like a wildcat about to strike a hunter.
I gave a sheepish smile in return. “H-hello, Mr. Stark. I was just trying to figure out if my screen was going out.”
“And is it?”
“I think I’ll need a few more minutes to figure that out-”
His eyebrows crashed down. “Would that be exactly four more minutes?”
I leaned closer to the screen and squinted my eyes. “I’m not sure. The time really isn’t that clear-”
“I think what’s clear is that you are wasting your employer’s valuable time and money staring at the clock, Miss Larkin,” Stark scolded me as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now get back to work or I’ll have to report you to HR.”
My shoulders fell and my face drooped. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”
“Good. Now get back to work.” He slunk out of sight like a vampire finished draining its victim.
That’s how I felt as I turned back to the lifeless screen. I clicked a few tabs at the bottom, and spreadsheets popped up. They were filled with data. Lots and lots of boring data. I punched a few keys and glanced at a piece of paper on the desk beside the keyboard.
“Why don’t they just scan these things in?” I muttered as the keyboards clacked beneath my fingers.
“Don’t tell them that. We’d all be out of jobs.”
I jumped at the voice and spun around to find a young man of twenty standing in the doorway. He draped his arm over the wall and grinned at me. “Hey there, lovely. You’re looking a little tired.”
I rolled my eyes and swung back to the screen. “Thanks, Michael.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he insisted as he strolled up to my side. He set a hand atop the paper and leaned in to catch my eye. “What do you say about a dinner?”
I tapped a finger against his hand. “I’d say I’m not hungry, now could you please move your hand? I’m trying not to get fired here.”
He removed his hand, but kept his close position to me. “What about breakfast tomorrow? It’s Saturday.”
“I have a late night gig.”
“That reminds me, you haven’t sung for me like you promised.”
I stopped and rolled my eyes before I looked up at him. “That’s because I never promised you that. You just think I did.”
“Well, a man can dream, can’t he? Besides, I heard you’re pretty good.” He plopped his arms on the desk. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re singing tonight and I can go watch?”
“I don’t think I’ll sound that good,” I warned him as I wrapped a hand around my throat. I coughed and forced my voice to sound raspy. “I’m having trouble talking, so I’ll sound even worse singing.”
His lips curled back in a twisted terror and he scuttled away from me. “Then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you go home?”
“I will as soon as that clock strikes five,” I assured him as I returned my gaze to the clock in the lower right corner.
The numbers showed 4:59. So close and yet so far.
Please. Please let me out of here.
My prayers were answered and time ticked by. Five o’clock, and on a Friday, to boot. I was free for two whole days.
Well, almost. There was one thing I had to do that night.
I followed the hurried flow of my fellow office workers out of the building and into the crisp air of the early fall. The leaves were just starting to turn and the evening cold nipped at my nose as I wound my way through the crowds.
As they thinned, I started getting a bad feeling at the back of my mind. I paused beneath a freshly lit streetlamp and partially turned around. A few dozen people strolled up and down the street, but no one stood out. My heart pounded in my chest as I continued on my way, but at a faster clip.
That’s when I heard them. Footsteps that matched my pace, or were perhaps a little faster. I stopped and spun around. A shadow ducked behind a garbage can. I reached into my coat pocket and wrapped my hand around the pepper spray. So armed, I inched toward the can.
“W-who’s there?” I called out as I neared the hiding spot. “Come out, or I’ll shoot!”
A barking laugh came from behind the trash. “That’s not a threat to anyone who knows your aim.”
My shoulders drooped, and I rolled my eyes. “Timothy Larkin, you get your ass out from behind there.”
A tall, broad-shouldered fellow stepped out from behind the trash can. He sported short hair and a mischievous smile. “Can’t an older brother tease his younger sister?”
“Only if said brother wants to give said sister a heart attack,” I scolded him as I patted my chest over that same organ. “It’s the weekend. The old ticker is supposed to get some rest.”
“I thought I’d walk you to the club. You know, keep you safe and stuff,” he told me as he strolled up to my side. “Shall we?”
I snorted, and we walked together down the sidewalk. “With a protector like you, I think I’ll have to think about getting life insurance.”
“So we’re still hanging out this weekend, right?”
I sighed. “Yes, but first I have to get to the club, and I’m late enough already.”
He clasped his hands behind his head and studied me with a soft gaze. “You really need to find a better gig than singing in that dirty joint.”
I snorted. “I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is still no.”
“But why not give a recording a chance? I’ve already written a half dozen songs for you!”
I stopped and turned to face him, forcing him to do the same. A sigh escaped me as I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Mark, I appreciate you doing that for me, but I’m a dime a dozen. There’s nothing special about my voice.”
He frowned and set a hand over mine. “You sell yourself short, Rose. You have the best voice I’ve ever heard.”
I laughed and drew my hand away. “Is that why I finished in the middle of my class in college?”
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s because they made you sing those crappy songs they wrote. You do a lot better with my songs. Speaking of which-” He rummaged through his pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “I have a new one for you. You could try it out on the audience tonight.”
I took the paper and unfolded it to read the bars and lyrics. “Wow,” I breathed as I hummed the tune to myself. “I think this is your best work yet.”
He puffed out his chest and grinned. “Nice, isn’t it? I can’t wait to hear you sing it tonight.”
I pursed my lips. “You know Mr. Bumstead doesn’t like you hanging around. Your glares of death scare off a lot of the male customers.”
Tim scoffed. “That’s exactly why I do it. They’re not good enough for you.”
“No, but their money is,” I pointed out as I brushed my hand down the front of his coat. “Thanks for the song, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He sighed. “Alright, but be careful.”
I tucked the music into my pocket and patted the cylindrical bulge. “I have old faithful here to help me.”
Tim leaned down and pecked a kiss on my cheek. “See you later.” He turned and strolled away.
I watched him go for as long as I dared before I hurried down my own path. That path took me to a dingy old hole-in-the-wall pub where the floor was stained and the walls were weathered. I slipped in through a side door, which had a clear shot of the bar.
The man behind the bar glared at me. “You’re late!”
“Sorry, Mr. Bumstead,” I called back as I pulled off my coat and hung it on a hook beside the door. “Traffic was murder and-“
“And I don’t want to hear about it,” he growled as he stabbed a finger at a door that led out front. “The customers are waiting for the show they already paid for.”
“On it, Mr. Bumstead.”
I snatched up a mic from atop one of the speakers and hurried out onto the tiny stage. The eyes of two dozen people fell on me. Many of them didn’t look happy.
I smiled and bowed my head to them. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I’m Rose Larkin, and I’m so glad to be in front of you tonight. I’m a little late, so I’ll be singing an extra song for you tonight. It’s a new song, too, so I hope you enjoy it.” Thank God Tim gave me that song!
Some of the ire fell from their faces. I opened my mouth, and the whole world faded into the background. There was only me and the music.
By the time I finished my set, the hour was late and I was exhausted. It wasn’t easy belting out some of Tim’s original stuff for three hours. Tim considered my voice, but not Bumstead.
“Thank you for listening, everyone!” I called out as I walked backward toward stage left. “I’ll see you here on Monday night!”
“Don’t forget the fish!” Bumstead hissed at me.
I sighed, but kept my smile plastered to my face. “And don’t forget to try the fish! It’s fishtastic!”
I hopped off the stage and scooted around the back of the bar. Bumstead scowled at me. “I’m going to dock your pay if you forget that ad one more time.”
I snatched my coat from the hook and frowned at him. “You can’t do that.”
“Then don’t forget the ad again,” he growled as he stabbed a finger at the side exit. “Now get out of here.”
I was only too glad to step out into the late-night gloom. A moon shone above me as I slipped on my coat. “Maybe I should get a new gig. . .”
A rustling noise from the shadows deeper in the alley made me pause. I froze and squinted at the darkness. “Is someone there?” A can rattled, and my blood boiled. “Come on, Tim, I’m tired and just want to go-” My words caught in my throat as a shadow stood up from behind the trash can.
It wasn’t Tim.