by Roxie Noir
“You’re the reason I can’t have her for the next few days,” he said.
“Blame the bride, not me,” she said. “The bakery’s running at max capacity from now until Saturday. No rest for the wicked.”
“How’s Greta holding up?” Sam asked. He moved Scarlet’s sweater from hand to hand, the soft fabric whispering through his hands.
“She’s a champ,” Annika said. If she was surprised that Sam knew Greta, she didn’t show it. “She already runs a bar, so it’s not like she’s a stranger to managing people and making decisions. I think she might murder her brother, though.”
Something went cold in the pit of Sam’s stomach.
“Why?” he asked, trying to sound non committal, like he was making conversation and not desperate for information on the topic.
“He showed up yesterday out of the blue,” Annika said. She stepped closer, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear her gossiping, even though they were the only two people in the shop. “Apparently he’s been gone for a really long time, and he didn’t even tell Greta that he was coming to her wedding, so now all her numbers are off, and she’s tasked Elliott and Shane — her fiancés — with finding him a suit.”
Sam knew exactly where Calder had a suit: in a box on the floor of his closet. It had been the one really nice thing Calder had owned, so Sam had kept it, thinking that maybe someday, he could stand to take it out and get it tailored, wear it himself. They were the same height, after all, and close in size.
He didn’t tell Annika any of that. They’d only just met, and for the first time in years, Sam had a strange thawing sensation inside him, like something coming to life again after a long winter. No reason to ruin this nice moment with his whole long, sad story.
“Two days isn’t much,” he said. “He didn’t give her any warning at all?”
Annika just shook her head.
“Apparently there’s a story behind him leaving,” she said. “He had a mate, and then something really bad happened, and he couldn’t deal with it and literally drove away one night. Left his mate a note that the mate wouldn’t show anyone else.”
Tell her, Sam thought. She’s going to feel like an idiot when she finds out it’s you.
He couldn’t bring himself to it, though. He liked the way that she looked at him, like he was just a guy with a tattoo shop who also knew Scarlet, not like someone who’d been discarded and forgotten by his own mate.
“Sounds rough,” Sam said.
“Greta and her brother won’t even talk about it,” Annika said. “I think there’s a juicy story there, but no one’s opening up.”
Her brown eyes flicked up to his, and for a split second she put her hand on his arm.
“Thanks for giving that back to Scarlet, she’s always telling me your place is freezing.”
Sam laughed. “She’s not happy unless it’s eighty-five degrees,” he said.
“I’ll let you know if I get any more of that story out of Greta,” Annika said, winking once at Sam. “It was nice finally meeting Scarlet’s other boss.”
“You too,” Sam said.
Then she was out the door, and Sam watched her walk past the windows.
Inside him, something new flickered, and he put Scarlet’s sweater on a chair, then stared at his hands and wondered what was happening.
Chapter Three
Annika
As soon as she was past the windows of the Midnight Gun, Annika stopped and leaned against the brick building.
I just winked at a stranger, she thought. Well, not a stranger. He’s a friend of a friend, kind of?
But still. Who winks at people?
Come on, Annika.
Moments later, she had her phone out.
You never told me your other boss was hot, she texted Scarlet.
Then she put her phone back in her pocket, smoothed her hair, and walked on.
Sam? Scarlet replied.
Yes, Sam! Annika texted back, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. It wasn’t like Scarlet had a third boss, and besides, even if she had mates already, Scarlet had eyes.
And she had definitely never mentioned that her other boss was six foot two of tattoos and muscle, with green eyes and gold-brown hair down to his shoulders.
You’ve never met Sam before? Scarlet texted.
Annika sighed. They did own shops on Main Street about four blocks apart, so Scarlet had a fair point.
Nope. I gave him your sweater, though.
Thanks, Scarlet texted.
At the bakery, Annika tore down the Back in 15 minutes sign and walked back in, tying her apron around herself as she headed into the back of the store.
On a whiteboard on the wall was a massive list of what needed to be done for the wedding. At this point, most of it was crossed off. The layers of the wedding cake were baked, wrapped carefully, and in the freezer. The cookie dough for the other wedding desserts was in the fridge, along with balls of pie dough for the rehearsal dinner’s dessert.
That was tomorrow, of course. Before Scarlet had left she’d peeled, cored, and cut a few dozen apples, and now Annika dumped them into a massive bowl, adding industrial levels of sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
Her apple pie recipe was a little involved, but she was glad to be baking and not looking at a list for a while. This was the first wedding she’d ever done, and Annika really, really wanted everything to go right. She wanted it so much that she’d started dreaming about making the cake, including a nightmare where two wolves got into a fight and one knocked the other into it.
She’d had the dream over and over, and nothing had ever changed. That is, until last night.
Last night, one of the wolves fighting near the cake had been Calder. After he’d gotten knocked into the cake, he laughed, then licked at the icing.
“Delicious,” dream-Calder said, and Annika woke up sweaty for a whole new reason.
She dumped the apples into a massive pot and set it on a burner on low, pre-cooking the apples. That was her secret: it gave them that sweet, deep, slow-cooked flavor without burning the crust.
In the front of the shop, the bell rang.
“Coming,” she called, wiping her hands on her apron. By this time in the afternoon, she was usually done baking, Scarlet had gone, and her only task was to stand out front and sell things. This week wasn’t usual, though.
She came through the door and there, hands in pockets, staring into the glass-front case, was Calder.
Annika’s stomach did a flip.
“You again,” she teased. “Everything’s already set. Greta’s not getting any more free samples, and it’s too late to change anything.”
He smiled, the easy motion crinkling the skin around his eyes just a little.
“So you don’t want to hear that she’s decided to scrap the cake completely and have thirty key lime pies instead?” he asked.
Annika laughed.
“At this point, you’re getting a cake, like it or not,” she said. “I just started the pies for tomorrow.”
“What kind?” Calder asked.
“Apple and blueberry,” she said. “That was up to Shane and Elliott, actually.”
“So she did let them decide something,” Calder said.
“From what I hear, they’re handling a lot of the non-food logistics,” Annika said. “Greta didn’t even know if there was a DJ or a live band.”
She looked at him for a moment, letting herself appreciate the way he looked in a t-shirt and leather jacket, leaning against the pastry case, his hair just the right amount of messy.
“You here because she’s driving you nuts?” Annika asked.
“I love my sister,” he started.
“But,” interjected Annika.
Calder smiled.
“But, yeah, she’s driving me a little nuts.”
Cinnamon wafted across the front of the shop, and Annika turned and looked through the door, then motioned to Calder.
“Come on back,” she said. “I got
ta stir this or it’ll burn.”
He kept his hands in his pockets as he came into the back, like he was afraid of touching something and accidentally ruining it.
“That’s all for the wedding?” he asked, nodding at the whiteboard.
“Yup,” Annika said. She stirred the pot of apples and it bubbled, the aroma drifting upward.
“All that stuff goes into making a cake?”
“Just everything under the ‘cake’ header,” Annika said.
“That’s still a lot,” he said, his eyes drifting down the words.
“It’s not so bad, really,” Annika said. “Greta doesn’t want anything crazy, just a couple of layers. I’ve heard of brides wanting a band of flowers down the side, or really ornate and intricate decorations. Icing I can do, no problem, but that sounds terrifying.”
“I haven’t baked since I was a kid,” he said. “Any cake impresses me.”
“I hope I can keep up that streak,” she said.
They were both quiet for a moment, and Annika had the sudden urge to ask him what had happened between him and his mate.
You barely know him, she told herself. Quit being nosy.
“So, what do you do out there on the open road?” she asked. “Besides live carefree and all that.”
“You mean, what do I do for money?”
Annika nodded.
“I’m a writer,” he said.
“What do you write?”
“Do you promise not to laugh?” he asked, leaning against a counter and crossing his arms.
“No,” said Annika. “Is it home decorating tips? ‘How to organize your closet,’ from someone who’s lived on a motorcycle for six years?”
“Seven,” he said. “And no, it’s not home decorating.”
“You write a parenting blog,” she guessed.
“Also no,” he said, making a face.
“Relationship advice,” she said, then wished she hadn’t.
Something flicked across Calder’s face, but then it was gone.
“I’m the very last person who should be writing that,” he said. “And no.”
“I’m out of ideas,” Annika said. “You’re gonna have to tell me.”
“I ghost write romance novels,” he said, grinning.
Annika’s jaw dropped.
“For real?” she asked. “Highlanders and sheikhs and pirates and stuff?”
“And sometimes devastatingly sexy men on motorcycles,” he said.
Annika felt herself go red.
“My readers think I’m a nice blond woman who lives in New Jersey and has two kids, a husband, and a golden retriever,” he said.
I bet they’d like the real version too, Annika thought. A hot wolf shifter who rides a motorcycle?
“Are they dirty?” she asked.
Calder shrugged.
“Sometimes,” he said.
“Are they ever about shifters?”
“Nah,” Calder said. “Nobody wants to read about that. It helps that I’m into men, though. I’ve got lots of words for describing sexy highlanders.”
Annika laughed, even if she wasn’t totally sure how to react. Even though virtually every male shifter was bisexual, it was easy to forget for some reason. Particularly when one of them was in her bakery, flirting with her.
“Okay,” she said. “Describe a sexy highlander to me, and I’ll tell you if I’m into it.”
The bell on the counter rang, and Annika rolled her eyes.
“In a minute,” she said.
Standing at the counter and staring off into space was Greta.
“Everything is under control,” Annika said.
Greta laughed.
“Thanks,” she said. “Just checking in. The dinner’s at 5:30 tomorrow at Page’s, across town.”
Annika took out her phone and checked her calendar.
“Got it,” she said.
Calder wandered out from the back, and Greta’s eyebrows went up.
“You are supposed to be finding a suit, not trying to sneak cookies out of the bakery.”
“I didn’t sneak a thing,” he said.
“Suit,” Greta said.
His eyes met Annika’s for a moment, and the message was clear: this is why she’s driving me nuts.
“You know anyone with a suit I could borrow?” he asked Annika, still leaning against the doorway.
“How tall are you?” she asked.
“About six one.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve got a brother, but he’s like five ten,” she said. “Sorry.”
Greta leveled a look at him, and he held up his hands, then walked to the door.
“See you guys tomorrow,” he said, then left.
Annika looked after him for just a beat too long.
“You’d never know he’s four years older than me,” Greta said, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Then she looked up at Annika, her face going serious.
“What?” Annika asked.
Greta sighed.
“I love Calder. He’s my brother.”
Annika sensed a but coming.
“And I know how charming he can be.”
Annika just kept waiting.
“But he’s a mess,” she said. “Normal people don’t deal with their problems by driving around for seven years. Normal people go to therapy, and learn to cook, or carve little animals out of wood, or start golfing or something. Maybe they take a vacation, but they don’t drive off in the middle of the night and leave behind everyone they love.”
Annika’s stomach dropped, and she swallowed. She’d warmed to Calder pretty quickly, but this sounded bad.
“What exactly happened?” asked Annika. “No one’s ever actually told me.”
“It’s pretty horrible,” Greta said, looking down at her hands. She started picking at a nail but then stopped. “Calder used to be in a triad, you know like normal. They lived together in this house right outside town, and they were really happy. That was before triad marriage was legal, but they were basically married, and they were planning on having kids in a couple years and everything.”
Annika held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“But, while they were on a weekend away, they went whitewater rafting, and Marie fell out of the raft, hit her head, and died. It was this crazy freak accident.”
Annika gasped and both her hands flew to her mouth.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “She drowned?”
Greta shook her head.
“No. That’s the one good part, if you can call it that, I guess. The coroner said she died instantly from the blunt force trauma instead of drowning.”
Annika put her head in her hands, staring at the top of the counter.
“Jesus, I had no idea,” she said. “I thought she just left them or something. That’s awful.”
She tried to imagine what it must be like to have that happen. To have someone — your partner — right there one second, and dead in the water the next. How overwhelming it must have been.
“It was bad,” Greta said, running one hand through her curly hair. “Obviously it was bad, it was worse than bad. But Marie wasn’t a shifter, and Marie’s parents blamed the two of them, and I think Calder blamed himself for not being able to save her. He couldn’t deal with it, so he packed his stuff while Sam was asleep and just left. Nobody heard from him for almost two years. We thought he was dead, or feral, or something.”
“Shit,” said Annika.
“He had a hard time,” Greta said softly.
“That’s a hard thing,” said Annika.
Greta sighed, then drummed her hands on the countertop.
“But it’s been seven years. He could have called and said, hey, I’m coming to your wedding. He could have texted.”
“Seven years is a long time,” Annika agreed. Then she frowned. “Wait, what was his mate’s name?” she asked.
“Marie?”
“The other one.”
“Sam
?”
Annika nodded.
“Does he still live here?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Greta said. “He owns the Midnight Gun. I saw him yesterday.”
And today I told him that I thought Calder had a juicy backstory, Annika thought. She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified.
Jesus, I’m an asshole.
“You probably know him,” Greta went on.
“I met him today, actually,” Annika said. “The girl who works here is also apprenticing for him.”
“Small world,” Greta said.
I can’t believe I said that to Sam, Annika thought. I have the world’s worst luck.
I meet two crazy hot, flirty guys in one day, and they’ve got a horrible back story with each other.
“I might have told him that your brother was in town and I heard he had a juicy back story,” Annika said, wincing. “He didn’t mention being the back story. Jesus, I feel like an idiot.”
Greta laughed, and then leaned across the counter and hugged the other girl.
“This is why I’m going to be single forever,” Annika muttered into Greta’s hair, half-joking.
“That’s not true,” Greta said. “Your someone is out there. He’s probably just not my fucked-up, degenerate big brother.”
“So Calder is hit-it-and-quit-it territory,” Annika joked. “Got it.”
She was mostly joking, anyway. Weird that someone who looked so much like Greta could be that hot, but he was.
“Gross,” said Greta, letting Annika go. “He’s still my brother.”
Annika grinned. “Sorry.”
Greta backed toward the door and pointed one finger at Annika.
“Five-thirty?”
“On the dot,” Annika said.
Chapter Four
Calder
Calder looked in the mirror, tilting his head at his reflection.
Maybe...? he thought.
Then his sister Ingrid walked by, glancing at his reflection.
“Too long,” she said.
Calder untied the knot and tried his tie for the fourth time, trying to ignore all the chaos in his parents’ house. Ingrid’s three kids, ages two, four, and six, were dressed in nice clothes but tearing around the house anyway. His mom was fussing over Greta’s hair, and his dad and papa were trying their very hardest to figure out which ties matched which suit.