by Bethany Shaw
“Here let me get those,” he murmured. His hand shot up above her, belly pressed against her back as he pulled the boxes down for her.
Great! Now things are getting awkward.
Flustered, she inhaled a deep breath. Focus. “Thanks,” she forced a smile, ducking under his arm as she maneuvered to the case.
Anger seethed below the surface, what was Grant doing? She bit her lip as he came to stand behind her again, his body a hairs-width inch from her own. Annoyed, she started to toss pastries into the box.
“Here is everything.” She plopped the rectangular containers down by the register.
Devon cleared his throat and walked toward her, lifting the boxes off the counter. “When is a good time to stop by tomorrow? I need a cake for this weekend.” His voice was flat but those hazel irises bore into her, an unknown emotion swirling beneath the surface.
Grant leaned against the case eyes flicking between the two of them, scrutinizing their exchange.
“Um,” she croaked, warmth flooding her cheeks, finding herself at a loss for words. “Anytime tomorrow afternoon would be fine. It usually slows down around two, and picks up again around five,” she said, relieved that her voice remained even. Between the two of them she was getting agitated.
“I’ll see you then,” he nodded. She swallowed and waited with bated breath for him to leave. Devon’s gaze drifted to Grant’s; a frown marring the werewolf’s face as he took in her ex. Whom was still encroaching on her personal space. Devon swallowed, a barely audible growl escaping his lips. Is he jealous? Without a word he turned on his heel and marched out of the shop.
Lark took a moment to compose herself, wiping down the counter where some crumbs had spilled. She then walked to the door, switched the lock in place, and flipped the sign from open to close. What a day, and it wasn’t over yet. With a sigh she turned back to Grant.
“You just gave him that stuff for free? Who is he anyway?” Grant grumbled as he pushed off the case and walked toward her.
“It's better than throwing it away,” she shrugged. What she did with her leftovers wasn’t really his business, but still she felt the need to justify herself. “He’s Rick’s nephew, Rick has done so much for Sarah and me the past few years, it wouldn’t be right to throw it away when they will eat them.”
Grant chuckled darkly, pursing his lips. “Well, it certainly doesn’t make sense financially, especially when you don’t seem to get along with the guy who’s picking it up. It’s not like you to act like that, Lark,” he gripped her shoulders, concern flooding his features. “Did something happen between you two?”
“It’s not always about the businesses bottom line. Was there a reason for your visit?” Lark asked annoyed. She wasn’t going to answer his last question, honestly she didn’t know the answer — there was something between her and Devon, a connection.
“Do I need a reason to stop in and visit you? It’s been a while,” Grant said. His hand lifted from her shoulder, like he wanted to reach out and touch her face. After a long hesitant moment he pushed away from her.
Lark closed her eyes before retreating to the dough she’d started earlier. If there was a purpose for his visit she would rather he state it, than beat around the bush. She didn’t feel like doing whatever this was right now.
“I’ve missed you, Lark,” he broke the silence.
“Grant-”
“Just hear me out,” he interrupted, his hands flew up in the air defensively. “It’s been a few years, we never really ended things. I haven’t moved on and heard you hadn’t either. Maybe we should see if there is still something here. Come out with me, Lark. Let me take you on a date? Or at least out just to talk and catch up.”
She rolled her lip between her teeth. The dough pulsed between her fingers as she squeezed harder. “I need to think about it,” she looked up at him and saw the disappointment on his face. “It’s just I’m really busy right now.”
Grant hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure, just give me a call whenever. I’ll see you around.”
“Good night,” she said softly, eyes trained on the sticky glob in front of her. Lark could feel his attention focused on her. After a few long moments, Grant’s footsteps clicked toward the door. The door squeaked as he unlocked it and banged shut.
Why was everything getting complicated all at once?
Chapter 5
Lark looked at the clock with a sigh; it was just after three-thirty. What did she care if Devon came or not? The man was a controlling pig who wouldn’t let his sister get a job. Not to mention, he didn’t exactly give off the friendliest vibe. Sure, there was an attraction, but it would only ever be that.
“You seem preoccupied today,” Sarah said as she came back from wiping down the windows.
“It’s just been a slow afternoon,” Lark sighed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was disappointed. She should be working instead of sitting around twiddling her thumbs for a guy who probably wouldn’t show up. The chocolate chip cookies weren’t going to bake themselves.
“Why don’t you take the afternoon off? Go out and do something. I can handle things here,” Sarah offered.
“Don’t you have homework?”
“No, the slave drivers went easy on me today,” Sarah laughed. “Get out of here.”
Lark rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have plans with Preston?”
“Lark,” Sarah snapped, looking at her pointedly. “All you ever do is work.”
“I enjoy this, and I do have a social life. Grant asked me out,” she said defensively. Was it so hard to believe that she was perfectly happy baking? In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have mentioned Grant.
“And what did you say to him?” Sarah asked, arms crossed, blinking rapidly at her.
“That I would think about it,” Lark sighed. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?”
“Well, for one, it’s nonexistent. Two, you’ve done so much for me, Lark. I can’t let you keep putting your life on hold,” she said combing a hand through her hair.
“But where is this stemming from?”
Sure they’d talked about it casually before, but why the push all of a sudden? Had someone said something? Sarah cared about her, but this was the second time she’d brought it up. It baffled Lark.
Sarah slumped against the counter. “Promise you won’t get mad?”
Lark frowned, nothing good ever followed after those words. “Sarah?”
“Fine. Grant’s mom, when she came in here the other night, she talked about Grant and how cute you two were together. It just got me thinking. Lark, you don’t do anything ever,” she said softly, coming to give her a hug. “You used to go out and do things, date, and have fun. You don’t do that anymore. I feel like you put your life on hold to help raise me and open The Cookie Jar. I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve missed opportunities.”
Lark leaned into her sister blinking back tears. Sarah really didn’t need her anymore. At the same time, the spiel was too mature for Sarah. In fact, it sounded more like Grant’s mom, Rachel’s, doing. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if Rachel were trying to meddle.
The sound of the shop door chime drew them apart. She cleared her throat and dabbed quickly at her eyes.
“Hi,” she choked out when she saw who entered.
Her eyes shifted to the glass case giving her face a quick once over. Relief flooded her, there was no blotched makeup. Only her crazy hair that wouldn’t stay in a ponytail to save her life, but that was nothing new.
“I hope now is convenient for you, I got held up at the ranch,” Devon explained. He looked between the two of them. His hands jammed into the pockets of his dark wash jeans.
“No, now is fine, if you want to come back to my office,” Lark said, quickly wiping the flour from her apron. She tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear, and motioned for him to follow her.
“You know he’s not bad on the eyes,” Sarah murmured, as L
ark walked by.
Lark shot Sarah a stern look before leading the way to her office. Of course he was easy on the eyes, anyone could see that. It was his attitude that needed improvement.
Lark sat in the leather chair behind her desk, glancing up at him as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. She watched as his eyes scanned the bright yellow walls of the office before stopping on her.
She indicated the metal padded chair in front of her wood desk, “Please, have a seat. We can discuss your order.”
She leaned back in her chair in an attempt to get comfortable. With Devon sitting across from her she didn’t think that was possible. His close proximity and woodsy scent set every nerve in her body on edge.
Devon sat down in the metal chair, one leg thrown over the other, ankle on his knee. “I would like a cake, for uh, Emily’s wedding this weekend.”
“Oh!” Emily was getting married? This weekend? She hadn’t mentioned it the other night. Granted they didn’t really know each other, but shouldn’t that be something shared? “I didn’t realize they were getting married.”
“It’s kind of spur of the moment.”
Lark averted her eyes, and forced her thoughts to the matter at hand. “I see. Um, for Saturday or Sunday?”
“Sunday,” he answered. Devon’s eyes remained fixed on her, making her insides quiver with lust.
“Sure, wow, that happened fast.” The words flew out before she could help herself. She clenched her lip between her teeth to keep from rambling further.
Devon stared at her for a long moment. Lost in his gaze, she admired his hazel irises. They were so expressive. What is he thinking about? He cleared his throat; heat crept up her cheeks. Embarrassed, she realized he was waiting for her to say something.
“How many people are going to be at the reception?” She asked. Focus! This is not how professionals act. She chided herself. After a brief moment to compose herself, she forced a smile, and pulled out her book of wedding cakes. “Will Emily be joining us at some point?”
“No, uh, this is something I’m doing for her. I guess enough to feed everyone at the ranch,” Devon said. He tapped his fingers on the desk. A frown marred his face as she opened the book and turned to the first page of pictures.
“Here are some of the smaller cakes, and then we’ll need to decide on a flavor,” she said pointing.
“Can’t we just do chocolate and vanilla?” He asked, his eyes staring blankly at the page.
“Sure, do you want fruit filled or almond flavored vanilla?” She asked, pulling an order form and pen from her desk drawer.
He sat back in the chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What would you do?”
“Excuse me?” She asked, confused by his question.
“I mean,” he cleared his throat again. “I’m trying to help Emily out. I admit I know nothing about this. She has enough to do with studying for the ceremony and finding a dress. What would you recommend?”
Studying for the ceremony? She tucked that tidbit away to talk about later. Lark took a moment to study him and realized that he really was out of his element. It wouldn’t be so horrible to help out for Emily’s sake.
“Well, I would go for a simple two tiered cake. We can do two different flavors, traditional chocolate and vanilla. Are there any particular colors she’s using?”
“It’s not really a wedding per se,” Devon said, after a long moment of eyeballing the book.
“Okay,” she drawled out. What exactly did that mean? His evasiveness only fueled her curiosity.
“It’s more a cultural thing, so there won’t be any need to get fancy, but Em’s favorite color is green,” Devon said quietly, shuffling in his chair.
“I could do pale green frosting,” she said, scribbling across the top of the white order form. “I didn’t realize you guys did that differently.”
“It’s a complicated situation.”
He didn’t seem to be willing to elaborate any further. Perhaps if she baited him he would explain more. “Regardless, I bet Emily is excited. I know she said that was one of the reasons you guys left. Your father didn’t approve of her relationship.”
“She’s excited,” he said, jaw tight, eyes piercing her. “I’m not sure what Emily told you, Lark. But for your safety, as well as Emily’s, I think it is best if you stay out of our business, and away from the entire pack.”
Lark pursed her lips annoyed. So now he thought he could tell her what to do too? “Well, seeing as Rick has been like a second father to me, and my sister is dating Preston, I don’t see that happening. Maybe your bulling works on your sister, but I’m not afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be,” he snapped, eyebrow quirked as he leaned forward, hands thumping against the desk.
“Are you threatening me?” She asked, swallowing as she glared back at him. If he thought he could intimidate her he had another thing coming. Her hand gripped the pen tightly.
Devon watched her for a long moment, his eyes intently burning into hers. “No, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, relaxing back in his chair.
He looked offended as he rubbed at his sandy hair. “I don’t know what Emily told you, or Rick for that matter but as a species, we’re dangerous. You shouldn’t even know about us.”
“Actually, it’s your fault that I do,” Lark shot back. It had been Devon’s accident that her father had been called in to help with.
Devon’s nostrils flared at her accusation. “Stay away from Emily. She’s led a sheltered life and trusts too easily. The last thing she needs is for someone who knows nothing about our situation misguiding her. Now, is there anything else you need for the cake?”
A surge of anger coursed through her veins. How dare he dismiss her like that? How dare he come and ask for a cake for Emily and tell her to stay out of his sisters business?
“Rick, Gene, and Preston are like family to me. Hell, everyone on that ranch is family. Sarah and Preston are in love with each other. You have another thing coming if you think we’re just going to walk away from them. You don’t turn your backs on your family when a crisis occurs. And I think Emily is more than capable of living her own life without your…your oppression.”
Devon nodded, his mossy green-blue irises pierced her, and she gulped nervously under his scrutinizing gaze. “Your only interactions with werewolves have been through Rick. I assure you, not all of us are like him. We live in a far more dangerous world than you can possibly comprehend. Emily is young and naïve and has no idea how the world really works. She has spent her entire life sheltered, and has no grasp of what our situation is. You don’t need to plant ideas into her head,” he reiterated with a snarl.
Lark inhaled a deep breath in an attempt not to lose her cool. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She did not need some chauvinistic pig telling her what to do. Furthermore, the way he talked about Emily was downright offensive. “You know I was under the impression that Emily left her old home for a new life. It seems to me she just exchanged who was going to dictate it,” she said, her nostrils flaring as her voice rose a few octaves.
He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.
Smacking her hands down on the desk, she stood up. “Anything can be dangerous - anything can happen to a person at any time. My parents are proof of that. They were killed on New Year’s Eve coming home from a party. A drunk driver ran a red light, and hit them head on. I refuse to live a sheltered life, because of things that might happen. So don’t you dare come into my bakery and presume to tell me what I can and cannot do.”
By the time she’d finished her rant, the sting of flames engulfed her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this worked up. Lark stood up to go to her file cabinet in an attempt to distract herself from her anger, and Devon’s irate glare. She’d clearly struck a nerve, well, so had he.
“I admire that you’re a strong individual, Lark, but you truly have no idea what you’re in for. Stay away from Emily,” h
e said in a low throaty growl. He stood quickly, the chair screeching against the tile floor as it moved backwards from the abruptness. “I’ll pick up the cake Saturday before close.”
“Fine,” she seethed, turning back to scowl at him.
Devon shot daggers at her, balling his hands into tight fists, as he stalked off. She sucked in a shaky breath. That had been one intense meeting. Well, at least now she knew for sure that even though he was sexy as sin, his macho attitude and controlling ways were a huge turn off. The man was an ass.
Despite everything, she couldn’t deny that her body still found him attractive. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to pummel him or slam him against the wall and have her wicked way with him. God, Sarah was right, she needed to get laid. Maybe she should call Grant.
She sucked in a deep breath and got out her cell to call him before she lost her nerve. They’d had something once. It wouldn’t hurt to see if something was still there. They could meet for drinks Saturday night. The liquor would help calm her nerves.
***
Devon made his way back into the house. How had getting a simple cake turned into such an ordeal? That meeting had not gone as planned. What made it worse was Lark comparing him to Emmett. At first he had wanted to berate her, tell her how wrong she was. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right.
Her strength and determination was alluring. Even if she clearly had no clue what she was getting into. If Lark felt that strongly about Rick, Gene, and Preston, even Emily, it made her so much more tempting. Loyalty was one of the things he’d always wanted, but never had.
Still he stood firm in his stance to protect his family. Until this was over, Emily would be a target if she left the property unsupervised. Emmett wasn’t going to just let her go.
Devon rounded the top step into the second floor living room. Vincent lay lounging on the couch, a bag of chips beside him, the TV blaring.
“You’re back,” Vincent greeted. Devon ignored his brother hoping to avoid any conversation. He needed time alone to think, and to get Lark’s intoxicating cinnamon-vanilla scent out of his senses.
