by Sophie Stern
Right now? Well, I just think we need to see where our cards fall. Maybe there’s a chance for us. Maybe we can start things up again…or maybe it’s just not going to happen. I don’t know. I’m not sure.
Oh, but I want to know.
I sip my own coffee and shake my head. Then I set down my mug, place my hands on either side of my plate, and look at her.
“About the tiger,” I explain.
“Oh.” She seems disappointed. She doesn’t want to talk about her relationship with another guy. I don’t care that she’s been with other people. We aren’t together, and we haven’t been for a long time. I do, however, want to know what exactly this guy was after. Why would he go after Foxy? Out of all of the women in the world, why her? It doesn’t make any sense. She’s a kind, gentle woman with a heart of gold. She’s a damn teacher, for dragon’s sake.
“We need to get your phone,” I tell her. “We need to check the app and see what other information we can dig up. If we can get more data, we might be able to talk with someone about what happened. Maybe we can get the guy’s name or…” My voice trails off. I don’t finish that sentence. I don’t need to.
She raises an eyebrow, looking at me head-on.
“You want to kill him.”
“Me?” I point to my chest innocently.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“We might be broken up, but I’ll never forget that look. That’s the look you gave me when Jared Broker tried to kiss me in the 10th grade.”
“He didn’t deserve you.”
“He was a nice guy.”
“He talked shit about every girl he dated,” I point out. “I wasn’t about to let him talk shit about you.”
“Really?”
“You didn’t know?” Now it’s my turn to be surprised again.
“That seems to be the theme of the day,” she sighs. Then she shakes her head. Her hair bounces a little when she does. “I feel like a total idiot.”
“You and me both.”
We were fooled by a little old woman. Not that my mother is old, but she’s got an old soul, some would say. She has an idea of how the world should work and how it should look, and she’s willing to do anything to get what she wants. In this case, it’s me being single, pursuing a “real” career, and apparently, dating the people she selects for me. Ridiculous. Then again, it worked. I’m not married or in a wild and high-paying career field, but I’m not with Foxy. I guess my mother got her wish after all.
“Hey,” Felicity suddenly glances at the clock above the stove. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Fair question,” I shrug. “But Henry can open without me today.” He’s a good man, and well-trained in the art of baking. We’ve worked side-by-side for so long that it’s not a problem for him to handle things on his own once in awhile.
“Your assistant?” She asks, reaching for a piece of bacon. “This is good, by the way,” she holds up a piece. “I like how you make it crispy, but you also don’t burn the slices.”
“Yes, he’s my assistant,” I answer her first question before smiling at her bacon compliment. “And I’m glad you like the food. I tried to make it good today.”
“Well, you definitely succeeded,” she sips her coffee again and finishes her food. It’s a good feeling to know that she’s enjoying herself. I’ve always liked feeding people and cooking for them. Sometimes I wonder if I should have become a chef instead of a baker, but I like my little shop. I like making cupcakes and cakes and pastries and creating things that make people feel happy when they’re having a bad day.
She looks at me for a minute before she speaks again.
“You know, I’ve never been inside of your shop.”
“Oh, I know,” I tell her. I finish my own coffee. “Trust me, I know.”
It’s been a point of contention between Henry and I for years. I’ve always wanted her to visit, and I’ve always begged him to tell me if she ever comes in. Henry has always thought my obsession with Foxy has been stupid. Anytime someone in the shop mentions her, my inner-lion goes crazy. Can anyone really blame him, though?
Foxy’s incredible.
And the idea of her being the one for me just makes me happier than it really should. Then again, I have so many emotions whirling around inside of me right now that I’m not sure which ones I should pay any attention to. Foxy and I have been apart for a long time. People change a lot in five years, but then again, maybe we don’t change as much as we like to think that we do.
“Maybe…” She starts to say, but then she thinks better of it and clamps her lips shut. Oh, no, that is so not going to fly. I want to know everything the little fox is thinking about.
“Foxy? What is it?” I gently prod, not wanting to scare her off. She’s fragile right now, but probably not as fragile as I think. Still, I don’t want to spook her or freak her out. I want her to feel comfortable opening up to me and being honest with me about everything.
“Could I come with you today? To the bakery?” She asks.
“Seriously? You’d want to come in?” My inner-lion purrs. It’s a good excuse, honestly. If she comes with me, she can stay close while I’m trying to figure out who is after her and why. Something tells me there’s more to the story than either one of us knows.
“Yeah. I mean…if that’s okay.” She’s suddenly nervous, and I nod, calming her down quickly. There’s no need for her to worry about coming with me.
“I’d love for you to come with me. We can try to figure out what’s going on together while I get some baking done. What about you, though? Do you have to teach any classes today?” I know she’s a teacher, and I bet she’s an incredible one. She’s always had a way with words, and a way with people. Foxy has the ability to get people to work hard and to believe in themselves. I’ve always loved that about her.
She shakes her head.
“I’m off for the next few days. I needed some time to recharge, so I scheduled some time off.”
“Good,” I say, nodding my approval. “It’s important to take time for yourself when you need it, and let’s be honest: teaching isn’t an easy job.”
“No, it’s not. Parents are really hard on their kids, and they’re even harder on the teachers. You’d think it would be the other way around.”
“That parents would be understanding?”
“Yeah.”
“Most of the parents are probably people who are like my mom and dad.”
“Overbearing?” She asks gently.
“Yeah.”
“Your mom always seemed like she wanted what was best for you,” Foxy points out. “I guess I never really thought about what that might look like, though.”
She doesn’t need to elaborate. My mom has always wanted what she feels is best for me. She hasn’t wanted what I know is best for me.
“My dad definitely cared. After he died, my mom was a lot more intense. I think because my parents were always poor, she was worried that I’d somehow have the same fate. She always wanted me to be a CEO or to run a business.”
“That explains the grad school mess.”
“For sure. Although, it doesn’t explain why she doesn’t like the business I run now. I started the bakery on my own and created it without anyone helping me. I have Henry now, but for a long time, it was just me hanging out and baking cakes.”
“You’re good at it, too, from what I hear,” she murmurs. The words are quiet, almost too quiet, and I wonder for a second if she’s ever tried anything that I’ve made. That might be asking too much, though. I don’t want to ask her. Not just yet.
“What about your mom?” I ask, turning the conversation back to parents. I almost never see Foxy’s mom. Sometimes, very rarely, she’ll come into the shop with Foxy’s brother, Max. Like me, Foxy doesn’t have a dad, so I try to be extra kind to her brother. Growing up without a pop isn’t easy. In fact, it’s one of the hardest things in the world. Now that I don’t consider myself to have a mom, either, it�
�s even harder.
“She was always pretty supportive,” Foxy says.
“I get that vibe from her.”
“You see her in the shop, huh?”
“Very rarely. Sometimes your brother comes in with her, or with his friends after school.” He’s young to be wandering around town on his own, but Claw Valley is a small place. A lot of the kids walk home from school together and they’ll stop in the shop to buy a couple of cupcakes or cookies to take home with them. I often wonder how many of the treats these kids purchase actually make it home. Somehow, I get the feeling that their parents don’t even know they’ve been stopping by to buy after-school snacks.
“He told me,” she smiles. “He says you always sneak him extra cookies.”
I just shrug noncommittally. Foxy rolls her eyes, but stands up and smoothes out her blanket. She’s beautiful, even like this, and there’s a little part of me that wants to reach out and tug on the edge of the blanket so that it falls to the floor and pools around her feet. I want to see her soft, luscious breasts, and I want to see her tummy. Then I want to see everything else: her pussy, her thighs. I want to see all of her and I want to devour her with my eyes, and then my tongue. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath.
I don’t want Foxy to know how excited I’m getting just at the thought of seeing her naked. She doesn’t need to know that I’m getting turned on just by the idea of us being together. Foxy had a long night. She doesn’t need another guy trying to chase after her. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself right now.
“What do you say, sir?” She winks, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Care to drive a lady home?”
“Hell no,” I say, shaking my head. Instantly, I’m no longer turned on. Now I’m just worried about her again. This creep found her, hunted her, and now she wants to go home? Yeah, that’s not happening. We need to find out who he is, what he wants, and what his evil plans are. Then we’ll be able to figure out where to go from there.
And I can figure out how I’m going to kill the guy who made Foxy cry.
“What?” She seems shocked that I told her no. I realize that it’s not a word she hears very often, but I know she understands the finality of what I’m saying.
“Foxy, we still don’t know who did this. I’ll take you home for all of five minutes, but only so you can get your phone and your other stuff. Then we’re coming right back here to figure this out. You’ll stay with me until it’s sorted. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone at your house. I’m definitely not dropping you off,” I shake my head.
“Really?” She whispers. Then she hesitates and looks around. At first, I think she’s just avoiding eye contact, but then I realize that there’s more to it. Is she taking in the kitchen? Checking out her hideaway for the next few days? It’s a cute setup. I’ll be the first to admit that my kitchen scheme really does look like something out of a summer catalog. I’ve got gingham curtains and a red checkered tablecloths and little pictures of chickens on the wall.
It’s cute beyond recognition, but that’s my style. I love baking and making pies and cookies and pleasing people, and I like putting people at ease.
My entire home is designed to make people feel like they can relax and unwind when they’re in my space. I don’t know whether I’ve succeeded with this or not, but damn if I’m not doing my best.
“Really.”
“You know,” she says carefully. “Maybe I don’t need to go home? I can probably log in from your phone?”
“To Team Shifter?”
“Yeah. I know my login information. It doesn’t have to be on my specific phone. You know how some apps make you verify your phone number every time?” She shakes her head. “This one doesn’t make you. I can just sign in using my email address.”
“Good idea.” I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t think of that, but whatever. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and set it on the counter between us, and then I nod at it. I have no qualms at all about Foxy using my phone. In fact, I like this idea better since it means she’s not going to have to go anywhere or talk to anyone. There’s going to be no risk at all of someone finding her or chasing her or hurting her. We won’t have to go to her house and wonder if anyone is there watching us. This keeps things simple.
She takes the phone and downloads the app. Then she logs in and she stares at the phone. I’m looking at it upside down, so I’m not sure what’s happening at first. She grimaces, and the scent of tension fills the air.
“What is it?”
“He messaged me.”
I gesture for her to hand the phone over, and I’m surprised and satisfied when she does. It’s not that I’m trying to be nosy, but I want to help her. Anything this guy has to say could be a sort of clue that lets us know exactly who he is and what he wants. I’m glad that we aren’t doing the playing coy thing where we aren’t being forthcoming. She’s allowed to say whatever the hell she wants to other people, no matter how naughty or erotic or sensual those things might be, but I need to know what the conversations she had with this tiger included. Anything he said to her could be a clue. Maybe he said something and it didn’t even register as being important at the time. There could be something that she missed that I pick up on.
“It’s bad,” she says, warning me before I read his most recent messages, and my heart plummets when I see that she’s right. Sure enough, the guy spammed her with messages after their failed meeting. The things he wrote are cruel and unkind and some of them are downright fucked up. More than that, they’re threatening.
My inner-lion growls, begging to come out. I can’t shift right now. As much as I want to shift into my lion form and go run and attack something or fight someone, I can’t do that now. I have to stay strong for her. I’ve got to hold myself together long enough to help her.
As I look through the messages, scouring for anything that’s actually helpful and not just an insult or a complaint about how the date went, Felicity grows more and more uncomfortable. She starts wiggling in her seat, agitated.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We’re going to find out who did it.”
“I trust you,” she says carefully, and somehow, those words just go right to my heart. I’m not going to tear up over something like this, but part of me wants to. The knowledge that she trusts me is incredible to me. Felicity has been through a lot. She’s been through so much that honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if she never wanted to trust anyone ever again, yet she’s putting herself out there. She’s trying.
“Henry can help us,” I decide, closing the app. I set my phone down and look at Felicity. She’s sitting there patiently, wide-eyed.
“The bakery guy?” She raises an eyebrow.
“The bakery guy.”
“What does he know?”
“More than you think.”
“Try me,” she urges.
“He studied at M.I.T. He’s actually kind of a genius.”
“Is he?” She’s surprised, but that’s not strange or unusual. Even if she had met Henry, which she hasn’t, he has a certain way of allowing people to underestimate him. He looks very innocent and honestly, he looks a little naïve. The idea that he’s secret a tech genius is pretty incredible.
“He’s working with me at the bakery, but honestly, it’s far beneath him. If he wasn’t here taking care of his aunt and uncle, he’d probably be living in a big city making a fuck ton of money.” I’m glad that he’s happy at the bakery. He’s good at what we do, and if I didn’t have him, I don’t know what I would do.
“Is that so?”
“It’s so. He’s really talented. I don’t know what it is, but he’s just got a knack for technology. The way I handle baking…well, that’s how he is with tech.” When I’m working with dough or batter, something just speaks to my soul. It’s like I connect with what I’m creating in the most tangible way. In some ways, Henry is far more talented than I could ever dream of being because he can do bot
h: he can do tech, and he can do baking.
She looks at me for a long time. There must be so many incredible and crazy thoughts running through that pretty head of hers, but finally, she seems to make some sort of decision, and she nods.
“Okay,” she says.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“It sounds like you’re trusting me.”
“That’s because I am.”
“Why?” She said before that she’s trusting me, but still, I don’t get it. We haven’t been together forever. Hell, we’ve barely spoken to each other in years, and she’s just…trusting me?
It doesn’t make any damn sense.
Yet, I guess that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?
It all hits me in the gut. I feel like I’ve been punched as I realize that maybe there’s a chance for us after all. True love doesn’t always make sense, and I don’t think either one of us really ever stopped loving the other. Maybe that’s the biggest problem we have right now. We’re both completely wrapped up in the idea of what could have been. Maybe instead of thinking about the time we’ve lost, we should think about how we can move forward from this.
So instead of waiting for an answer as to why she suddenly trusts me, I just move around the counter, and I reach for her. I pull Foxy off of the stool and into my arms, and I kiss her. It’s a soft kiss at first: it’s a kiss we shouldn’t be sharing. Neither one of us should be doing this, and we both know it. Somehow, though, I can’t bring myself to care, and I kiss her deeper and deeper until she groans against my mouth.
My body reacts and I’m hard for her, ready for her, and I lift her up higher in my arms. The blanket falls away, unnoticed, and her body is tight against mine. I hold her against me as I kiss her over and over again, silently promising her so many things. She reacts, wrapping her legs around me, and she starts wiggling against me, grinding her body against my own.
