by Hattie Hunt
“Okay, professor.”
Emma bowed.
“What’s next?”
She looked at her watch. “Bed.”
“On the first date?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could catch them. In his head, he meant it to be a reference to her comment the night before back at his place, but as soon as he said it, he wasn’t sure she would make the same leap. He almost expected her to slap him in the face again.
Instead, she laughed. “Funny.” She tossed her now empty coffee cup into the trash and looked at him. “Somebody kept me out past my bed time last night, and if I show up at work in the morning half as much of a zombie as I was this morning, Cyn is going to kill me.”
“I see.” Mason shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. “Any new cookies this week?”
Emma smiled. “You could stop by tomorrow and find out.”
He was going to.
17
The next afternoon, Mason walked through the door of the bakery right around quitting time, just like Emma had told him.
She stood at the cash register, counting the drawer. She gave him a distracted smile. “Can you flip the sign, please?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Cyn appeared from the back, carrying a garish leopard print purse with a matching scarf. “Hey, Mason. Good to see you again.”
“You, too. Have a good night, Cyn—” Mason remembered belatedly that he could only call her that if she let him. “—thia.” He saluted sharply. Realizing what he’d done, he jammed his hands into his pockets and nodded.
She laughed. “Cyn is fine. You two behave yourselves.”
And then Emma and Mason had the bakery to themselves. It had been quiet before, but now, the silence was deafening. The lock on the door clicked as Cyn locked it from the outside and Mason watched Emma visibly relax.
“Right. Now that she’s out of the way.”
“I didn’t realize she was in the way to begin with.”
Emma ignored him and jerked her head to the gap between the wall and counter. “Come on. We have work to do.”
Mason shrugged and stepped behind the counter. “Is this legal?”
Emma shot him a look. “Which part?”
“Aren’t there food codes or something? Rules to who can and can’t go behind the counter?”
“You didn’t break many rules as a kid, did you?” She pushed open the door and held it for him.
“I broke plenty of rules.”
“Sure you did.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I licked the Lincoln Memorial once.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to him.
What was she looking at? That had been… “It was a very daring experience.”
She snorted a laugh and picked up a stack of bowls sitting on the square table in the middle of the room, moving them to the sink. “You rinse. I’ll stack.”
“I would think it is quite a violation to have a bear in the kitchen.”
“And what rule does that fall under?”
“Let me guess. Don’t shift in public?”
“Bingo.”
Mason sprayed off a large metal bowl and handed it to Emma. “I bet the next thing you’re going to say is that people like Cyn are the reason we can’t talk freely in public.”
“He can be taught.”
He took the ribbing with humor. “Does she always listen at the door?”
“Only when she’s plotting.”
“Do I even want to know what that means?” Mason handed her another bowl and she stacked it into the steam washer.
“She’s a bit of a mother hen. In the way that she wants to make sure I am getting laid on a regular basis.”
Mason nearly dropped the pan in his hands.
“After I told her about Jordan, she went into ‘hook up Emma’ mode. And you happened to be the first man to walk in the door. So, congratulations.”
What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Then he felt something hot on his fingers and realized he had been holding the same pan under the scalding water for too long. He jerked back and shoved the pan at Emma a little too forcefully.
She laughed and shook her head. “Relax, dude. I promise I’m not going to jump you on the bake table.”
Mason tried to steady his breathing, which had become rushed as he visualize her slamming him against the table, the buttons on his shirt flying around the kitchen. His heart raced. How could she talk so casually about that? Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised if she was willing to just walk around the woods stark naked. Maybe he was a prude.
His porcupine stirred at the sudden influx of energy, and Mason pushed it—him—down. The last thing he needed was another porcupine incident while doing the dishes.
“You know,” she said, pressing the start button on the dish washer and leaning back against the bake table. Her expression darkened. “During the field day, I found out how Cheryl announced mine and Jordan’s broken engagement from one of the chaperones. She told the clan that I had cheated on him.” She closed her eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
Mason leaned against the counter next to her, not sure if he should reach out and comfort her, say something, or just sit there in silence.
“Evan called me a slut.” She opened her eyes and shrugged. “Not that he has room to talk. He cheated on his wife for real.”
“I’m sorry?” Because what else was he supposed to say?
“Don’t be. I’m used to it. Joe and Brett beat up half the football team in high school when some jerks started a bunch of rumors about me. I know the truth. Which is what really matters in the end.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”
Happiness powered through him. “You can tell me anything. I’m a good listener. It happens when you grow up a nerd and don’t know how to talk to people.”
She chuckled.
He nudged her shoulder. “I can’t decide if it would be better or worse to get swirlies and have my glasses stepped on or to be called a slut. Toilet water is pretty vile.”
Emma snorted, and then laughed. A full belly laugh that left her short of breath. “So, what about you, Mason Covey? You call yourself a nerd, but the worst I’ve seen is the fact that you know the scientific name for a toucan.”
“I suppose it depends on your definition. I’m a book nerd. I spent my summers wandering the Smithsonian museums in DC to the point I knew most of the guards by name. Not to mention after school. During lunch. I got detention once for being late to fifth period for that one.”
The washer buzzed, and steam flushed out the bottom.
Mason stepped back to the sink to rinse the last few dishes. “I told you I don’t follow all the rules. I can be quite the rebel.”
“Somehow I feel like being late because you were exploring a museum should get you extra credit over detention.”
“If I’d been the teacher, I probably would have, but what do I know?”
They filled the last load into the dishwasher, and Emma moved around to the opposite side of the table from Mason, leaning over it on her elbows.
“Alright, quill boy. How to be a shifter part two.”
“Quill boy? Really?” Mason pulled his notebook out of his pocket and set it on the counter.
Emma shrugged. “It seems fitting. Deal with it.” She rapped her fingers on the metal surface of the counter. “Do’s and don’ts of shifting.”
“I’m not four.” Because this felt like something you’d tell a preschooler.
“Your porcupine is, apparently. Come on. List three things you shouldn’t do.”
Mason pulled the pen out from its place on his glasses and tapped it on the counter, matching pace with Emma’s fingers.
“Wait a second,” she piped up. “Firstly, I forgot about the pen behind the ear. That’s definitely nerd material. Second, was it attached to your glasses?”
He was actually quite proud of that invention.
She swiped it out of his
hand and held it close to her eyes, examining it. “That’s pretty clever.” She moved it to the edge of the counter and pushed it over. The magnet kept it dangling there, just barely.
“I haven’t had a chance to repair my bag. And I think that part goes on the don’t-do list. Don’t carry a bag of clothes when you’re shifted.”
“I didn’t say it had to be on the don’t-do list. Most people just don’t do it.”
Mason retrieved his pen, trying his best not to think about that. How she didn’t bring clothes with her when she shifted. He sure as hell wasn’t about to run around the woods naked.
“Right. Anyway, things we do,” he said, forcing the subject back to the list. “We do keep our spirit animals a secret. We do belong to clans. Though, I need to work on that, apparently.”
“Those are obvious. How about, ‘we do take our spirit animals out to play.’”
“You make it sound like they’re pets.”
“At first, they are. Wouldn’t you consider your porcupine to be more of a pet than anything right now?”
Mason considered it. She had a point. “Fine. I get that. You and your bear—”
“Mal.”
“Right. Mal. You guys are more like partners. I would think that after more than twenty years, I would’ve gotten to that point if I was ever going to.”
“If you were taught when you first found your spirit animal, you would have. You’re just getting taught a little bit late in the game.
“Just a little.”
“Do your parents shift?”
Mason shook his head, looking down at the notebook. “I can’t remember the last time they did. It was too hard in the city. We didn’t know anybody, and it was easier to suppress. I keep trying to get my dad to shift with me, now that we are here, but I haven’t had any luck.”
Emma frowned. “Suppression can become permanent. He may not be able to anymore.”
Permanent? He hoped not. “I think if he just gave it a chance, now that we’re here, he would change his mind.”
“It is possible.” She didn’t look convinced.
Mason flipped to a blank page in the notebook and wrote:
permanent suppression
Emma watched him write, but didn’t say anything. It was obvious that it bothered him his parents wouldn’t shift with him. She wondered if it would be different if they were shown what it could be like to live without restriction—within reason. It had been a long time since she’d met anyone who had their spirit animals suppressed.
As he finished writing, Mason reached up with one hand to push his glasses back up his nose.
She liked that he wore glasses. It was something she didn’t see very often amongst shifters. Natural healing and enhanced eyesight and whatnot. Which made her wonder…
“Mason, do porcupines have poor eyesight?”
“Huh?” He looked up, green eyes bright behind his glasses.
Emma wondered what they would be like without them. “You have glasses. Most of us don’t. Actually, I can’t think of anyone who does. I was wondering if porcupines have poor eyesight.”
“Oh. Yes, they do. Great noses and hearing though. Which makes up for it.”
“Interesting.”
“Sure. It’s really helped with my nerd status over the years.”
She didn’t like that tone. It sounded self-defeatist and it made her want to punch him in the face until he stood up for himself. However, it didn’t look like he was taking it too seriously. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
Mason shrugged with a smile. “I own it.” He tapped the notebook again, turning back to the page where he’d laid out two columns labeled Do and Don’t.
He made a quick list in the Do column:
play
clan
secret
He was one very strange man. “Why do you make so many lists?”
“Why do you bake?”
That wasn’t really an answer. “Because I can.”
“Bingo.”
Emma laughed again. “You don’t take things very seriously, do you.”
“I take things perfectly seriously. I just do it with spunk. Now, what about things we don’t do? I have two.” He counted them off with his fingers. “Don’t shift in public. Don’t talk about shifting in public. What else?”
She held up two fingers and a thumb. “Don’t showcase any abilities.”
“Doesn’t that fall under ‘not shifting in public?’”
“Yes and no. Shifting is an ability. So is fast healing. If I had gone to the hospital, I’d be mostly healed by the time I got discharged, which would raise questions. That’s why we have people like Snow and, I guess, Leslie. I’ll have to introduce you to Snow. Did you meet Les when you talked to Dexx?”
“Uh.” He’d met a lot of people at the BBQ on the Whiskey compound. “I don’t know?”
“Eh. We’ll get you introduced. We go to Snow for most stuff because she’s a shifter, too. And now we have the Whiskey’s in town too, which I imagine will also keep down on the hospital visits. Which will make the Shadow Sisterhood happy.”
“Hold on, back up. Snow is who? And the Whiskeys?” Mason pulled his notebook closer and flipped to another new page.
Emma rolled her eyes. “Snow is a shaman. The Whiskey’s are a bunch of witches that are with Dexx. Leslie, Alma, Paige. The soap and wine shop? Paige is with Dexx, I think. I’m surprised he didn’t mention them.”
“He might have. A lot’s happened since I talked to Dexx and then half shifted in your bakery.”
“Isn’t that the understatement of the century?”
Oh boy. If she was going to succeed in training him, she was going to have to get him a bigger notebook.
18
A few days later, Mason was preparing for his shifting evening with Emma. She’d been working with him for the past several days, but the real trial was upon him.
Shifting with someone else.
His porcupine wasn’t his normal, hyper self at the thought of shifting, so maybe they were both nervous.
“How about Jens?” Mason asked aloud, if for no other reason than to break the silence in his car. The radio hadn’t worked for months. He sat in his car where she’d told him to meet her, staring at trees. He was out in the middle of nowhere. His porcupine growled and shuddered.
“Okay. Jens is a bad name. You know, this would be easier if you gave me a hint.”
The porcupine chittered indignantly.
“Carlos?”
Another growl.
“Flower.” Because who didn’t like Bambi?
A quill pressed against the underside of Mason’s skin.
Apparently, his porcupine didn’t like being compared to a skunk.
He’d been trying to come up with a name for his spirit animal for two days and had come up with nothing. But the communication between the two of them had been amazing. Still no words. Still just emotions and sounds, but it was glorious. “Bones?”
The porcupine perked up and then purred.
“Seriously? You want to be called Bones?”
A knock sounded on Mason’s car window.
He jumped, then rolled it down when he saw Emma standing outside. Completely naked.
His eyes shot back to the steering wheel, heat immediately rising up his neck. Emma knocked again.
“You know, you sound like a crazy person sitting there talking to yourself. Come on. It’s chilly out here.”
Mason drew in a long steadying breath and wrapped his fingers around the handle. Don’t look. Don’t stare.
He opened the door and stepped out, ducking immediately back inside to grab his repaired satchel.
When they had decided to shift, he’d immediately given up his satchel free lifestyle. Though, grudgingly and against his better judgement, he had at least decided he would leave the satchel in the trees rather than carry it with him.
“It’s about time you showed up.”
“I was expecting you to driv
e.”
“It’s quicker to go cross country. You’ll see. We do that often.”
Mason couldn’t help himself. He had to look. And he immediately cursed his own lack of propriety, but damn she was gorgeous.
Long, slender legs with hips that curved just right into her waist. Her hair was down, draped over her shoulders and falling just about her breasts. Like goddamn flashing signposts pointing right at them.
He dragged his eyes upwards, meeting her gaze.
She smiled smugly.
There was no point in denying his attraction and he certainly wasn’t going to get naked in front of her so she could see how she’d affected him. “You’re… gorgeous.”
“Thanks. Now, come on. Are we going to shift or what?”
It really didn’t bother her that she was standing there naked in front of him. Which kind of blew his mind a little bit. “Right. Give me just a second.”
“A wha—”
He turned towards his shelter in the trees.
“Where are you going?”
“To shift.”
“Seriously? There’s no one around.”
“Yes. Seriously. I’ll be right back.”
Mason disappeared behind the trees and dropped his satchel over Bones’ stack of bones.
He was really calling his porcupine Bones.
His animal spirit growled in contentment.
Well, okay then.
“Mason, hurry up,” Emma called from a few feet away.
He sighed and started stripping. For time’s sake, he didn’t bother folding his clothes as neatly as he normally did, but he still made sure to put his shoes into the shower cap. As he stuffed his pants into the bag, the little notebook fell out. Maybe he would consider a smaller bag to carry with him in the future. One that would fit just his glasses and the notebook. Emma couldn’t give him too much shit about that, could she?
Pulling off his glasses, he slid them into their assigned pocket and set the attached pen on top of the notebook. He was pretty sure he could convince Bones to carry the notebook. What if something came up that he had to write down?