by Lisa Emme
He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Yeah. Just came to get my truck. Need to head home and catch a few hours of sleep.”
“Stay with me,” I said. At his raised eyebrow, I added. “To sleep only. You know you will recharge faster.” And he would. We were like the two parts of a voltaic battery. When we slept together, an energy bridge seemed to form between us, allowing us to ‘top up’ each other’s reserves. He had probably saved my life a couple of times already when my aura was particularly low, just by spooning with me.
He hesitated and I thought he was going to turn me down, but then he pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor beside mine. He unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them down his well-defined thighs. He was wearing a pair of boxer briefs. Pushing me over onto my side towards the middle of the bed, he climbed in, wrapping his body around mine. I reached behind me and ran my hand over his briefs. He grabbed my wrist, pulling it back in front of me. “They’re for my own protection, so you won’t molest me in my sleep,” he growled in my ear. I huffed out an exasperated laugh as his hand clamped around my breast and he nuzzled his face against my neck. Just who was molesting whom?
***
I woke hours later, alone in bed. I felt well rested, but an achy throb between my legs left me feeling irritable. Damn that sexy wolf. I was sure he left me feeling all needy on purpose. Just to make his point that he didn’t think the whole dating thing was necessary when we had already had each other six ways from Sunday.
I headed into the bathroom, the residual humidity indicating that Nash must have availed himself of my shower before leaving. As I washed my hair, images of Nash naked in the shower made my achy need worse. I decided to take the problem into my own hands, literally, when I noticed something in the steam on the glass shower wall. As the room got steamier, words began to form on the glass. When I was finally able to read the message, I growled indignantly at it. Just who did he think he was? I looked at the words again, glaring at them.
YOUR ORGASMS BELONG TO ME. NO CHEATING.
Cursing pain-in-the-ass alpha males, one wolf in particular, I finished my shower, clean but unsatisfied. I told myself that the fact that I decided not to get off had nothing to do with Nash or the realization that his little pronouncement only left me feeling even more aroused.
It was close to noon when I headed downstairs to get something to eat. My schedule was so out of whack these days, less like a witch’s – up with the dawn, and more like a vampire’s - up all night. Tess, with her job at the gym where they catered to training norms, tended to keep more witch-like hours on work days, but she quickly reverted to the werewolf’s more nocturnal pattern whenever possible. I didn’t think she had to work at the gym today so she was probably still sleeping.
After demolishing a loaf of peanut butter toast with a milk chaser, I paid a visit to Bryce, hoping to catch him. Luckily, he responded fairly quickly.
“Greetings, oh Zombie Queen.” Bryce’s computerized voiced sounded like Siri’s younger brother. The little robot character he displayed on the screen bowed to me, over and over.
“Ugh. Don’t joke about that.” I winced.
The robot changed to one holding up a sign that read “Sorry”.
“What’s up Harry? I came back as fast as I could yesterday but you were gone.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up and I had to go to the shop.” I paused wondering at his words. “Where exactly were you?”
“Russia. They have the best live porn sites. I found this one, where you can just type what you want the girls to do and…”
“Ewww! TMI dude. Too much information.” I made a face at the screen.
The robot with his sorry sign was back. “Yeah, okay. No problemo. What can I do for you? Are you all right? The news sites are exploding with stories on Bellemare and his untimely death.”
I filled Bryce in on what happened with Bellemare, glossing over the showdown with Navarre and the whole Salvador is my father news. I ended with the card from the Mariposa.
“Anyway, now I need to know everything you can dig up on this Mariposa character, La Mariposa de la Muerte. Pictures, known associates, anything you can get me. The more I know about her the better.”
“Know your enemy. Gotcha.” The screen blinked to black for a moment, then the robot popped back up. He was dressed like a ninja. “It might take a while to dig through the dark web.”
“That’s okay. Just make it thorough. Oh, and Bryce? Sun Tzu was Chinese, not Japanese.”
Chapter Seven
“What the heck are all these?” I rifled through a stack of papers on the counter. I was in the flower shop with Tiffy and Mrs. Potts.
“Résumés, dear.” Mrs. P smiled brightly. “Isn’t that wonderful? So many people want to work in the coffee shop.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. But how do they all know there is even going to be a coffee shop? It’s not like I’ve advertised positions or anything.” I looked at Mrs. P skeptically. There must have been over a dozen applications. “Have I?” She had taken over so much of the job of overseeing everything involved with the new shop, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she had placed an ad somewhere.
“Werewolf grapevine,” Tess answered my question as she traipsed through the door. She had that freshly showered look and was munching on a piece of toast with peanut butter. Yeah, we buy it in bulk.
“The what?” I asked, watching as Tiffy stiffened then relaxed, her flight response almost completely conquered. Her nostrils flared and she looked closely at Tess’s toast, smacking her lips hungrily. I made a mental note to bring a jar of peanut butter down for her next time. You never thank a brownie, or any Fae for that matter, if you can help it. Most Fae will use your gratitude against you, but brownies find it insulting. Regular sweet treats were the sure fire way to keep a brownie happy and show your gratitude without saying it, but maybe Tiffy might want to try some peanut butter.
“The grapevine. The gossip mill. Whatever you want to call it. Word is out that you are expanding into a new business. Now that you are officially part of the pack, you’ll find that other pack members may decide they want to pitch in. Or they may be looking for you to do them a solid and give a fellow pack member a job.” She popped the last bite of toast into her mouth.
“Really? Cool.” I nodded my head. The werewolf pack wasn’t much different than the witch community, everyone lending a hand to help each other. It was kind of nice to be accepted into the pack - even though I didn’t go furry and howl at the moon - especially since I had sort of quit the coven, unaffiliating myself from the Conclave after one of their members pissed me off with his pretentious attitude. “You just waking up?” I made a show of looking at the clock on the wall. It was after three. Tess looked a little sheepish. Suddenly, it dawned on me. “Ohmigod! Are you just getting home?” I looked at her clothes, trying to remember what she had on at the bonfire the night before. Tess’s cheeks turned bright red. “You are!” I gaped at her. “You are so totally busted.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her into the coffee shop. I had intended to lead her over to one of the new booths so she could dish, but she stopped, her mouth gaping.
“Wow, Harry. This place looks fantastic!” She spun in a circle, taking in all the details. I had forgotten she hadn’t seen it in a while. It really was a dramatic change from just a couple of weeks ago. The booth cushions were now covered with the fabrics I had chosen. The black granite counter tops with flecks of gold, that had seemingly appeared like magic overnight and more than likely had, gleamed. On the lower curved part of the counter there were four round, retro-looking malt shop style stools, with gleaming chrome bases and burgundy pleather seats. They were the kind that you could sit on and spin a full circle like when you were a kid. I had found them online. I guess they had finally arrived and Morris and the boys had installed them. Speaking of Morri
s, I could hear his voice booming in the kitchen at the back of the shop. He and the boys were busy installing all the top of the line, professional grade appliances Isaac had ordered for his dream kitchen.
“It does, doesn’t it? Now tell me about the guy from last night.” I waved her over to a stool.
Tess blushed again. “Oh, you know, just a guy.” She shrugged. “No big deal.” She avoided making eye contact with me.
“What’s up, Tess? You’ve never been shy about your conquests before.” Unmated werewolves took sex pretty lightly, looking at it more as meeting an animal need like eating. By norm standards, they would be considered rather promiscuous and Tess was no exception. She usually had no problem describing her latest encounter in great detail.
“It’s just,” Tess fidgeted uncomfortably and then blew out a sigh. “I’m so jealous of you, Harry. You found your mate, your true mate. It’s something I’ve always hoped for and you have it and…” Her voice trailed off with a shrug.
“And I have it and don’t seem to want it,” I finished for her with a sigh.
“Well,” Tess shrugged again. “Yeah.”
“But what about the part where I’m stuck having sex with the same person ad infinitum?” I threw her words from the other day back at her.
“But wouldn’t it be worth it? To be with your soul mate? Besides, you said the sex was incredible.”
“Well, yeah. But maybe the novelty will wear off and then what? I’m stuck having mediocre sex with Nash for the rest of my life?”
“Ha! For some reason I don’t think the word mediocre is ever used in the same sentence as sex with Nash.” Tess grinned at me.
I rolled my eyes at her and laughed, shaking my head. “No, probably not. Frustrating maybe, but never mediocre.”
Tess looked at me, her eyebrow raised in question. “Frustrating?”
“You’ll never guess what he -”
“Hello?” A male voice called out from the back of the shop. Startled, Tess and I both jumped to our feet.
“Artie!” Tess smiled and hurried over to the man. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Tess, I have a delivery and so I brought it around to the back. Morris let me in. He told me I’d find Harry Russo here.”
“Hi. I’m Harry,” I said, coming to stand beside Tess.
“Artie, Artie Banks. Pleased to meet you, Harry.” He reached out his hand to shake mine.
“You said you have a delivery?” I looked at him skeptically. I didn’t think I had anything else on order.
“Yeah, I didn’t just want to send it with the rest of the appliances without having a chance to walk you through it first.”
“Wait. You supplied all the appliances?”
Tess nodded. “Artie works for Big Bad Wholesales. They supply all the pack’s restaurants.”
“No kidding,” I replied. “Did Isaac order the kitchen appliances through you?”
“He sure did.” Artie bobbed his head in agreement. “But don’t worry, I gave him the pack discount once I knew it was for you.”
“You did? Oh, well thanks.” I smiled at him. “What’s the pack discount?”
“Cost plus one percent.” Artie beamed back at me.
“What? How do you make any money?” I looked at him in surprise. “I appreciate the discount and all, but I don’t want to drive you out of business.”
“Not to worry, Harry, the one percent covers all my costs and you get the appliances you want cheap. It’s a win-win.”
“And, don’t forget all the non-pack customers that pay through the nose,” Tess giggled.
Artie winked conspiratorially. “Well, there’s that too.”
I laughed along with Tess and Artie. “Okay then. So, what do you have today?”
“Well, I brought a catalogue so you could pick out your crockery and utensils. We can also print business cards, menus, provide linens.” He started pulling things from a briefcase I hadn’t noticed before. “Have you decided on the name yet?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe. I’m still mulling it over though.” He looked expectantly at me, but I didn’t elaborate because truthfully, I had nothing. I had no clue what to call the shop.
In the end, with Tess’s help, I picked out plates, coffee mugs, cappuccino bowls and espresso shot cups. I’d order take out cups and paper napkins, once I decided on the name. I was really hoping I’d have a moment of inspiration on that soon.
As a parting gift, Artie had one more surprise up his sleeve. He disappeared into the kitchen for a minute or two then came back, assisted by one of the boys, carrying a very large box. A few minutes later, a shiny, new Gaggia Deco cappuccino/espresso maker sat on my counter top. It was chrome and burgundy with two serving groups and a cup warmer on top.
Tess whistled. “Wow Harry, it looks pretty snazzy.”
I eyed it skeptically. I had no clue how to use it. Luckily, Isaac claimed to be an expert on all things coffee. We’d get him to show us the ropes later after it was all hooked up.
“So try the Deco, I think you’re going to like it, one of the best commercial brewers around. If it doesn’t work for you, we can swap it out.” Artie pulled a couple more sheets from his briefcase. “Here are the coffees we stock. I told Isaac I’d leave a list. I’ve also left you a couple of different samples of our own house sourced coffee. It’s very good, totally Columbian.” He gestured to the counter beside the new coffee maker. There were two large foil packages of coffee beans. The label read “Howling Moon Coffee Company” and it had a picture of a howling wolf. Cute, but subtle they weren’t. I looked back at Artie who chuckled. He made a little ‘what can you do’ gesture with his hands.
“Thanks, Artie. For everything,” I said, shaking his hand again.
“Not a problem, Harry. Always a pleasure helping out the pack.” He snapped his briefcase closed and turned to leave. “Oh, and we should have your crockery order out to you by mid-week.”
“That’s great! Thanks again.” I walked Artie through the back of the shop and out the delivery entrance to the alley behind the building. Artie’s minivan was parked beside my pickup truck. I watched him drive away and was about to head back inside when a movement down the lane drew my attention. I stared down the alley trying to see into the waning daylight. The sun was almost set and the lane was cast in shadows.
“Harry?” Isaac stood in the doorway, his gaze following mine.
“Hey, Isaac.”
“Everything okay, Harry?” Isaac asked, stepping out to stand beside me.
“Yeah sure, I just thought I saw someone in the lane.” I shook my head and then shrugged. “I guess not.” I turned towards the building and Isaac. “So, did you check out the new coffee maker?”
Isaac’s smile almost burst right off his face. I’d take that as a yes.
A short while later, Tess disappeared upstairs to our apartment while I remained behind and sat watching Isaac play with his new coffee maker. Together with Morris, the two of them had managed to get it all hooked up. A quick trip upstairs for milk and some mugs and we were a few minutes shy of trying the shop’s first cappuccinos.
My phone chirped. I stepped away from the impatient group of men - the boys had finished in the kitchen and come out to join Morris and Isaac - as they stood waiting for the water to reach optimum coffee brewing temperature.
I smiled at my phone. It was Nash.
Nash’s reply made me burst out laughing. Isaac threw me a questioning glance but I waved him off, pointing at my phone.
…Pick you
up in 20?>
Chapter Eight
Minetti’s was a Riverton institution. A mom-and-pop joint that opened shortly after the turn of the last century, it had been run by a member of the extended Minetti family ever since. It didn’t matter who was running the place, there always seemed to be a Mama Minetti. My generation’s incarnation was Clara. A stereotypical Italian nonna, standing five foot nothing with snow white hair and a time-worn face, she was inevitably in a flower print dress and white bib-front apron. Nonna Clara, as she liked to be called, had a mind like a steel trap. If you were in her good books, you got a pinch on the cheek. Find yourself in her bad books and she had no problem giving you a slap upside the head, all while praying in Italian to the saints above for your salvation. She added real character to the place, let me tell you.
Of course, Nash, being the lady-killer that he was, earned not only the customary pinch on the cheek but a ‘come to Nonna’ hug. I, on the other hand, got the Nonna stink eye. She grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks with her gnarled, arthritic hand and gave me the once over.
“Too skinny,” she declared giving my waist a poke with a bony finger. “How you gonna to keep up with un ragazzo sano like my Cian with no-a meat on-a your bones?”
Nash hid a smile behind his hand and I glared at him, but Nonna wasn’t done with me yet.
“Angelo!” she bellowed for her son, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. “Angelo, you give-a la bella ragazza dessert. On the house. She too skinny.” She patted my now flaming red cheek and took my hand and placed it in Nash’s. “Il mio ragazzo, you take her and make-a sure she-a eats-a.”
“Of course, Nonna, I will.” Nash kept a straight face as he bent down to give the little woman a peck on the cheek.
Thankfully, Alberto, Nonna’s grandson, arrived to show us to our table. As we walked into the dining room, Nash leaned in and gave my bottom a little pat. “Don’t listen to Nonna. You’ve got nice curves. You’re perfect just the way you are, little minx.”
