by Hattie Hunt
“I know.” She just didn’t quite know how to explain the non-mundane stuff. “I’m not much in the mood to talk about it, honestly.”
Cyn studied Emma for a moment, and then shrugged. “Fine.” She peered into the cookie case. “Any ideas for your signature cookie?”
Emma frowned. What had Mason said when he came into the store the first time? He was fixing an… Oreo situation. That was it. “Something with chocolate and cream. Not unlike an Oreo.”
“Oreo?”
She could explain, but it didn’t matter. “Yes. Oreo. There’s a… situation.”
“If you say so.” Cyn slipped her coffee into a sleeve and backed through the door into the kitchen.
Between the two of them, they came up with a cookie that kind of resembled an Oreo. Though, Emma liked to think they had improved on the original. Cyn had a delicious cream cheese filling recipe that they used often in cakes. To compliment it, Emma threw together a batch of dark chocolate macarons. She had never been great at macarons, but it worked out to her benefit that they came out a little flat. It added to the aesthetic.
The focus on their project served as a good distraction for Emma, who had decided that the best course of dealing with her issues was to not think on them at all. She knew that it was a mistake. Mal even brought it up, but she didn’t care.
As Emma and Cyn stood across the bake table from one another, admiring their handiwork, a wave of contentment swept over Emma. Nothing made her feel better than baking.
“I’d eat them.” Cyn said, picking the icing spatula and running a finger along it. She popped her finger in her mouth and sucked off the icing.
“Good. At least someone will.” Emma set to transferring all but four of them to the display tray for the front case. “I’ll clean up if you make me another coffee.”
Cyn shrugged, picked up the display tray and backed through the door to the front. Almost as soon as she had gone up front, the door chimed, starting the first morning chain of regular customers.
Emma left Cyn to it. The sputter and whistle of the espresso machine chorused the usual melody of Cyn’s easy laughter. It was a good thing she liked chatting up their customers. Emma preferred hiding in the back, which she planned on doing for the rest of the day if she could get away with it.
The problem was, the longer she stayed in the back by herself, the more she found herself thinking about Mason. Jordan. Cheryl. Mason. Emma sighed. So, Cheryl had made Jordan her successor. Even after a night to cool down, the thought brought her rage boiling to the surface, and she crushed the egg in her hand. She barely managed to get away from the mixing bowl without dropping egg shells into it.
She moved to the sink, picking the bits of egg shell into the garbage can while the water warmed up. The door to the front opened and Cyn came in, fresh coffee steaming in her hand.
“First rush successful,” she chimed, setting the coffee down and then looking from the mixing bowl to Emma. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Made a mess out of an egg.” Emma ran her hands under the water.
“If you say so.” Cyn frowned. “‘Course, I don’t quite understand the ‘break-up’ and then immediately coming up with a new cookie recipe for a new man thing, but whatever. No judging. If you need the take the day off, do that. Seriously.”
That was a nice thought, but a bad idea. “No. I’ll be fine. “
Cyn pulled the carton of eggs close and finished adding them to the mix Emma had been working on. “So, how long have you and Jordan been off?”
Emma raised an eyebrow.
“Asking for a friend.”
Laughing, Emma dried her hands and started pulling pans off the wire rack. “Long enough.”
“I mean, he’s on the market now, right?”
“Technically, yes.” Technically, so was Emma. Why did that thought terrify her? She’d wanted this.
“That Mason guy is cute.”
Yeah. And that could definitely spell trouble. “I’m not looking.” She couldn’t be looking. Could she?
Well, if she seriously wanted to get her clan back, then no.
But if she didn’t care?
Then…yes.
What the hell did she want?
“You made him a special batch of cookies, Em.” Cyn folded her arms over her chest, her expression crimped around the edges as if saying that explained a lot.
“Yeah. Well.” What did it mean? She’d been born the alpha. That… should mean something. “I probably shouldn’t have.”
Which was the truth. Her eyes flicked to the plate of four macarons. She should just tip the plate into the trash. Walk away. But she wanted to see the expression on his face when he saw them, his lips when they closed around them. She had even played with the idea of calling them Moreos. Mason’s Oreos.
Mal snorted in her ear.
Shut up.
“Well, I’m just saying. You’ve been stressed lately. Anyone can see it, and if you and Jordan have been on the outs for a while, maybe a night with an attractive newcomer who hasn’t really gotten to know you…”
“Gee, thanks, Cyn.”
“What? I’m serious. Sex is good for nerves.”
And sex the day after a publicly announced break-up was rumor fuel. Not that anyone would know… well, should know. But that wasn’t how things worked when you were part of a clan or surrounded by shifters who could smell sex or another man’s scent on a woman.
Those damned noses told everyone everything. Which was part of the reason her and Jordan’s ruse had been so impressive.
But it had been a long time. Emma shot Cyn a look. She was not helping.
The door chimed and Cyn disappeared in a flourish. As soon as she was gone, Emma gripped her hands to the edge of the counter and closed her eyes. She was Emma Elliot. She had a duty to her clan and to her family to take Cheryl out of the picture once and for all.
Especially not with another bear clan in town.
She didn’t need to get involved with a stranger.
She was not going to get involved with a stranger.
When Mason came in, if Mason showed up, she’d let him sample the cookies and then she’d tell him she couldn’t see him for a while. She was dealing with some complicated shit. He would understand. It wasn’t like they had really spent any time together, gotten to know each other.
Cyn poked her head back through the door. “Emma, there’s someone here for you.” She gave Emma an exaggerated wink.
Emma’s stomach jumped up into her throat.
Responsibility. Duty.
She paced the words evenly with her breaths, which were too short. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Because she was nervous to see him? Or because of what she knew she needed to do… which she didn’t want to do.
Responsibility. Duty.
“Emma, get a freaking grip,” she muttered to herself, picking up the small tray of macarons.
As soon as Emma walked through the door, Cyn abandoned her with another not so subtle wink.
“You came.” Emma had to fight back a cringe at the relieved tenor of her voice. Not. Helping.
Mason grinned. The corners of his eyes crinkled behind his glasses, and the green of his eyes dazzled. “I’m not one to turn down a cookie.”
“Good to know. If I ever need anything, I’ll just offer you a treat.”
“You make it sound like I’m easy.” He wilted dramatically, and then shot back to attention, laughter on his lips. “What do you got for me?”
Emma could feel herself already losing grip on her focus. He was just so easy to be around. So…happy. Charming. Innocent.
Distracting.
She lifted the plate of macarons from behind the counter and set them in front of him.
The train of thought that played across his face was near comical in its clarity. Confusion. Curiosity. Question. A lightbulb. Then a laugh that started in his stomach and rumbled all the way up his throat and out his lips.
“You di
d say you were trying to fix an Oreo situation,” Emma said, nudging the plate in his direction. For what they were, Emma really was impressed with how they’d turned out. Sure, most people wouldn’t have made the connection to an Oreo. They were macarons after all, not wafer cookies. But he had made the leap, and that was what she’d been going for.
“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind. But.” He picked one up and held it to his nose. “They smell divine.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off his lips.
As he took a bite, the door creaked behind Emma, and she flipped a glance over her shoulder to see Cyn peering through the door with one eye. Cyn was anything if not subtle. Damn woman. Despite herself, Emma felt the heat rising up her cheeks again and she desperately willed it away as she glowered at Cyn and turned back to Mason.
“What do you think?”
Mason moaned, head turned up towards the ceiling, eyes closed.
Dear…god. That man.
He hadn’t reacted like that to the chocolate chip cookie the first time he came in. Was he putting on a show, or was it really that good?
Emma realized suddenly that she hadn’t even tried one. She knew what Cyn’s filling tasted like, and she had made chocolate macarons before… Still, it was a silly lapse on her part.
“Would you believe that I haven’t tried one yet?”
Mason’s eyes shot open, mouth half around his second bite. “You’re not serious,” he said through a mouth full of filling and meringue.
She leaned over the plate of macarons, too aware of the way her hair fell over her left shoulder just right. “Dead.”
Mason shook his head, and picked up a macaron. He had it half way to her mouth before Emma realized what he was doing.
Mal urged a warning through her thoughts.
Emma pulled back, snapping the macaron out of his fingers and popping the entire thing into her mouth completely ungracefully.
His eyebrows furrowed, confused and then embarrassed. Like he had been the one to do something wrong.
Emma cursed mentally, her heart racing, her blood on fire as she chewed through the macaron without tasting it. She had to choke it down, trying to quell the pit of unease gurgling in her stomach. She had just flirted with him. What did she expect?
“Beat you to it,” she said, trying to play off her actions, but the damage had already been done.
“Sure did.” The playfulness had gone from his eyes.
Why did Emma keep doing that? Just when he opened up, she smacked him down. But she needed to do that. He couldn’t get any ideas. Even if she wanted him to. Dammit. She didn’t want him to. She didn’t.
“I am glad you liked them.” Emma shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. The ease of banter between them had evaporated.
Well, at least she’d started him in the right direction.
His brow furrowed, and he set the rest of his cookie down.
Emma picked up a small paper sack and used tongs to transfer the two remaining cookies. “You should take these for your parents. My treat.” She rolled over the edge of the bag and handed it over the counter to him.
Mason took the hint, an echo of confusion still on his face. Then he fluttered his eyelids and shook his head, a gesture Emma wasn’t quite sure she was supposed to notice. Like he had been clearing his thoughts.
“Right. I am sure they’ll love them.” He pulled back one side of his jacket and dug into an interior pocket, emerging with a battered index card. “I wanted to ask…I mean, do you do custom orders?”
Had he just blushed? Emma’s chest constricted. “Yes. You bet we do.” She forced out a wide smile, the one she had practiced to perfection for when she and Jordan attended clan functions.
Mason handed her the card without meeting her eyes. “Since my parents don’t have a kitchen, I thought maybe I would see if you could make this for me. I can barely cook, let alone bake. And Monday is my mom’s birthday. I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have…” He frowned. “Sorry. I’m rambling.” A long breath. “Will it fit into your schedule?” The tone of his voice shifted to all business.
Emma looked down at the card. Classic Chocolate Meringue Pie. Easy enough. But she forced herself to adopt the business tone that Mason’s voice had shifted to. “We don’t usually do personal recipes. But, we don’t have any customs on the schedule for Monday. I think we can squeeze it in.” Pulling out an order form, Emma scribbled out the details, running down the list. “Would you like this delivered? Or will you be picking it up here?”
Now Mason was shifting from foot to foot. “Delivered please. Around 6:30pm, if that’s possible.”
“Absolutely.” She turned the paper towards him. “Sign here.”
He did.
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Okay.” Mason straightened his jacket. “Have a good day, Emma. It was…good to see you.” He turned away
“Goodbye, Mason.” The door chimed and then closed behind him.
Cyn burst from the kitchen in a flurry. “Emma Elliot, what the hell is wrong with you!”
“Not now, Cyn.” Emma tossed the tongs onto the counter by the espresso machine. They clanged off the side and tumbled to the floor.
“Don’t you ‘not now’ me, damnit. He is obviously into you.” She put her hands on her hips in a huff. “And you didn’t see your face when he ate that cookie. I thought things were about to get R-rated.”
“Cyn, I am not fifteen. I have other things I have to deal with right now that aren’t cute boys, okay?” Emma pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. She pinned the recipe up to the Monday task board and nearly ran into Cyn when she turned back to the bake table.
“You aren’t getting out of it that easy, missy.”
Emma frowned. No, she wasn’t. Her chest ached, right in the spot where her heart was supposed to be. Except, right now, she wasn’t sure it was there at all. For the first time in longer than she liked to think about, she had felt something for somebody that wasn’t Jordan, even after there was nothing left to feel for him.
Every part of her knew that she was crazy. She didn’t know Mason. But, dammit, she wanted to know him. She wanted to give this new part of her life a fucking fighting chance. And she couldn’t do that with Cheryl as alpha.
Cheryl would forbid Emma to date a porcupine, and she would inflict her alpha will to make the mandate law.
Why hadn’t Emma thought of that before this?
“Cyn, can you cover the rest of the day for me?” Emma took off her apron before Cyn even answered. “I need to take care of something.”
“Damn straight you do.”
Emma was taking charge of her life. One way or another.
10
Emma gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She had to keep reminding Mal to hang back just a little. She didn’t want to rip the steering wheel off. But she only needed to make it as far as the edge of town. The woods. Then, they would run.
Mal hummed with anticipation. Expectation. He knew what was coming.
Now that Emma had made the decision, things seemed… simpler. She couldn’t figure out why she had kept putting it off. Why she had let Chuck step her down the day Brett had been cured. He probably had his reasons. She had to assume he had his reasons. He was high alpha. Since then, he’d told her she would know the right time. And this moment, this day, felt more right than any ever had.
It was possible that she was emotional. Not possible, probable. And she would let that give her strength. Emotions weren’t a weakness.
She turned onto the side road by her and Jordan’s apartment. It was as good a place as any to leave her car, and she wanted Jordan to go with her. He had been a part of this since the beginning, and she needed him to be there in the end. He was her rock.
Belatedly, Emma remembered to knock twice before she unlocked the door and stepped inside. It felt weird knocking on her own door, but it wasn’t actually her door anymore.
“
Jordan? Hey, it’s me.” All the lights were off, and the shades were drawn. Emma’s heart sank. “Jordan?”
The apartment was silent. Mal bristled.
Mal?
He is here.
“Jordan Baker.” Emma frowned and opened the living room shade. Light spilled across the room and Emma’s stomach knotted. The place looked like it had been ransacked. And not by a human.
A low growl rumbled down the hallway by the bedrooms. Emma drew Mal out, bulking up her shoulders. Something was very wrong.
Emma moved to the kitchen, knocking her fist along the wall. Jordan had to know that she was there, but she didn’t want to surprise him. A surprised bear was never a good thing, shifter or not. “Jordan?”
Another growl, louder and more aggressive rolled down the hall and something heavy moved, the thin walls vibrating under Emma’s touch. She hoped to god the neighbors downstairs weren’t home. As she reached the two bedroom doors, Emma paused. Jordan’s was shut, and she could hear muffled breathing.
She knocked on the door. “I’m coming in.”
The expected growl didn’t come.
Jordan was curled up in the corner of his room, naked, face buried in his hands. Emma rushed to his side, letting Mal come forward further, fur bristling from her skin. She reached out to touch his arm.
His eyes flickered with fire.
She pulled back and put both hands forward, palms out in surrender. “What happened to you?”
“Emma, you need to leave.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Bullshit. What did she do to you?” Emma kept her hands out, but lowered herself to her knees a few feet away from him.
Jordan shook his head, blonde hair falling across his forehead.
Emma had a feeling she knew what had happened. Cheryl needed a successor with the alpha ability of will. There was a ceremony that could be done where someone who hadn’t been born with that ability could attempt to gain it. It was dangerous and hadn’t been done in generations.
“Screw this. I’m going over there.” Emma shot up and spun towards the door. This was a new low for Cheryl.
Jordan reached for her leg, scrambling forward on his hands and knees. “Don’t!” The word came out as a growl.