by Sable Sylvan
“I can make sure to box a pie up for you sometime,” said Pepper.
“How about Friday night?” asked Peter. “We’re having a party at the lodge.”
“Friday?” asked Pepper. “I mean, sure. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Her blush faded. Apparently, Peter was just talking about pie after all. That meant Oliver was her only option — which for some reason, actually made her a bit disappointed! Just a few hours ago, she’d been sure Oliver was the one. That silly pie-eating contest had really messed up Pepper’s insides.
“Well…does Bear Claw Bakery deliver?” asked Peter.
“Yeah, technically. We do catering,” said Pepper. “Why? Does Terrence want a load of pies for the party?”
“I don’t think that my order is catering-size,” said Peter.
“Uh…how big is it?” asked Pepper. “You can order delivery, pizza-style, through a food delivery app used by the other restaurants in town.”
“I don’t like doing things over the phone,” said Peter. “I prefer doing things face to face. My order…well, it’s big, but more accurately, it’s curvy, really curvy. I want one thick Bear Claw Bakery baker, and her pie, at Hemlock Crew, on Friday night. Heck, maybe this could even be an order…for pick-up.”
“Okay, there’s been a lot of talk about pies, and delivery, and all that, so, can I just ask you straight up — is this you asking me out?” asked Pepper.
“Asking you out, sure. Asking you in, into my bedroom? Maybe that’s a more accurate way of describing things,” said Peter.
“I’m not a booty call,” said Pepper.
“I’m not calling your booty,” said Peter. “You know what happens to gals like you who date bears like me. Fate has a way of bringing people together — making them meet, pushing them into the bedroom.”
“And what makes you so sure that this is…what you’re implying it is?” asked Pepper.
“You can say it — that we’re fated, that you’re my fated mate,” said Peter with a chuckle. “Get used to saying it, sweetheart, because that’s what you are. I know it.”
“And how the heck do you know that?” asked Pepper.
“Come to the party and find out,” said Peter. “I already have your number — from the business card. I’ll send you the details…and a costume.”
“Wait, what?” asked Pepper. “A costume?”
“It is October,” said Peter, and that was all that was said on the matter, as Oliver was back and ready to work.
Chapter Five
“I can’t believe I’m gonna frikkin’ do it,” Pepper muttered to herself, looking herself over in the mirror. Of course, this was the costume that Peter had picked for her. She looked at the pile of clothes on her bed. She didn’t have an alternate costume in her closet. Last year’s costume had gotten absolutely trashed at Patricia’s big house party. She could always take a pair of scissors to the sheets and make a ghost costume, but then, she wouldn’t have a sheet.
Pepper had asked Patricia to arrange for someone to make and send over the pumpkin pies so she could get ready for the date. Now that she saw herself wearing the costume, she wished she’d just made the pies and driven them over herself, so she could’ve stayed at the party in her usual work clothing.
Pepper finished doing her hair like the gal in the photo on the costume package’s cover. The gal looked very happy. Maybe the costume was frikkin’ magic and the happiness could rub off on Pepper.
Pepper scoffed to herself at her silly thought. Magic wasn’t real, but liquid courage was. She went over to her liquor cabinet, poured herself a half a shot of vodka, with a cup of clear soda for a chaser, and just as she was drinking the shot, the doorbell rang. She was expecting Peter, but the shock still made her spill the soda and vodka on her top.
“Drat!” cursed Pepper, making her way over to the door. “Coming!”
Pepper opened the door. Standing there was a vampire — a very sexy vampire with fangs that she could see because he was biting his lower lip. The fangs were diamond studded and glinted under her porch light.
“Hey, Peter,” said Pepper, waiting two beats. “Bat got your tongue? Get it? Bat? Because you’re a vampire?”
Peter was going to make a quip about how Pepper had said she was ‘coming’ and about how he’d make very sure of that later. He was too stunned by the actual sight of Pepper.
Pepper was thicker than an oatmeal cookie with raisins. The shirt was tied up in the front, just like it was tied up on the plus-sized model on the front of the costume package. The shirt was made of black and red flannel, cut so as to allow the crop-top style top to be tied in the center, giving the shirt the illusion of being a regular shirt that had been tied up into a crop-top.
The flannel shirt covered Pepper’s breasts. It was open, like a V-neck shirt. Pepper wasn’t wearing a bra with the shirt, which had built-in cups that really didn’t do much.
Her ample bosom was lit warmly by the porch light. It reminded Peter of the lights of a dive bar — the kind of place he’d never imagine he’d find a gal like Pepper. Below her bosom, her round stomach, exposed, hanging out, and seemed to glow as bright as a big, round jack-o-lantern. It almost hid the pair of tiny denim shorts she was wearing. The shorts were so small they were practically technically underwear. Brown leather suspenders went over the flannel shirt and covered part of Pepper’s bosom, right over the center.
Below that, she was wearing brown boots — in her shoe size, the ones he’d ordered from the costume company, that were paired with the costume he’d picked.
Peter panned back over Pepper’s body, tracing her curves with his eyes, and looked up past her thick neck that was just begging for kisses. He looked in her face. She’d done a simple make-up look and hadn’t covered up her beautiful freckles. In fact, it seemed like she had added some extra freckles with an eyeliner pencil.
Best of all, she had her hair in pigtails. They were grabbable, yankable pigtails, perfect for holding like handlebars as he claimed her from behind. Peter’s bear roared. A vampire and a sexy female lumberjack? That was an…interesting combo, but, those pigtails were dang hot.
“Well?” asked Pepper.
“Are you going to be too cold in that?” asked Peter.
“You’re the one that frikkin’ picked this costume out!” hissed Pepper.
“What’s that I smell on you?” asked Peter.
“It’s not garlic,” said Pepper.
“No — it’s vodka,” said Peter. “Somebody’s been getting up to no good. Pre-gaming? Just my style.”
“You haven’t been drinking, right?” asked Pepper.
“No — but I want to drink at the party, so is it cool if I just grab you a cab later?” asked Peter.
“Yeah, sure,” said Pepper. “I’m sure getting a ride in a nice, clean cab will beat getting driven back in your lumberjack rust bucket.”
Peter held the door open for Pepper. She got out. Peter had parked in a less fancy section of the Hemlock Lodge’s parking lot. One part was for expensive cars, and the other was for rust buckets. Peter’s car was definitely on Team Rust Bucket.
Peter led Pepper to the front of the lodge. There was music coming from the building. Various other men and women in costumes swirled around them. Peter led Pepper into the party, where she became thoroughly confused
The party was fancy — real fancy, with a string frikkin’ quartet! The quartet was dressed in old-timey clothes that looked French or vaguely Victorian or both. There were fancy cocktails and canapes out for the guests, that were milling around.
Oh — and every lumberjack from Hemlock Crew was dressed like a vampire.
There were sexy vampires, with more eyeliner than a 2007 era emo band.
There were scary vampires, wearing ornate fake fangs with blood dripping down their chins.
There were goofy vampires, in intentionally chintzy faux satin capes.
“I feel a little underdressed,” said Pepper.
“Don’t be,” said Peter.
“Don’t be underdressed?” sassed Pepper.
“I mean don’t feel uncomfortable,” said Peter.
“Who said anything about feeling uncomfortable?” asked Pepper. “Also — who said anything about shots?”
“I didn’t say anything about shots,” said Peter.
“I know — and that’s the problem,” said Pepper with a wink. “Come on.”
A group of people was pouring shots. Pepper walked over to them.
“Room for two more?” asked Pepper.
“Of course,” said the woman pouring shots. It turned out it was Patricia! She was wearing a sexy vampire costume and was near Terrence, who was also wearing a sexy vampire costume.
“Happy Halloween!” everyone cheered, clinking black skull-shaped shot glasses before downing their shots of pomegranate liquor which looked a lot like blood.
Pepper and Peter did shots and went on to the dance floor. They were the first couple there. As soon as the song ended, the string quartet started playing a string cover of a popular song. Before long, the lights were dimmed, and other groups hit the dance floor!
After about an hour of dancing, Peter’s phone went off. Peter checked it discreetly.
“Uh…would you mind getting some air with me?” Peter asked Pepper.
“I was just about to ask you that question,” said Pepper, walking with Peter to the front door. The crisp autumn air flew into their faces and cooled them down immediately.
A green sportscar was in the lot. It had its lights on. The front door opened.
“Hey Peter!” said the driver of the green sports car. “Think fast!” The driver tossed Peter a set of keys from halfway across the frikkin’ lot!
“I thought you couldn’t drive me home because you’re drinking,” said Pepper.
“I’m not,” said Peter.
“Then why did he just toss you his keys?” asked Pepper.
“Uh…technically they’re my keys,” said Peter.
“But your car is over there,” said Pepper, pointing in the direction of the rust bucket convention.
“Uh…so technically one of my cars is there,” said Peter.
“What?” asked Pepper. “Wait, what? Hold on. Back up a second.”
“Watch,” said Peter, pointing back at the green car.
Pepper watched as the driver opened the back seat of the car. Out stepped a gorgeous woman, dressed up as a frikkin’ sexy werewolf…and then another woman stepped out, dressed as a sexy were-tiger!
“Thelonious wanted to, uh…make an impression on those twins,” said Peter. “I lent him my keys.”
“You didn’t think you needed to impress me with your car?” asked Pepper, raising a brow.
“No — I didn’t,” said Peter, not falling for Pepper’s trap. “You don’t care about things like fancy cars, do you?”
“No, not really,” admitted Pepper.
“Neither do I,” said Peter.
“Then why do you have one?” asked Pepper.
“My mom cares about fancy cars, so she got me one as a graduation present,” said Peter. “I’m not about to be rude to my mom and turn down a thoughtful gift. She got me a car by the same brand of car she first saved up to buy, with my dad.”
“I thought your family was rich,” said Pepper. “You’re part of Hemlock Crew.”
“Oh, trust me — they’re filthy rich, but…they had to work hard to get there,” said Peter. “That’s why I’m here — I need to learn to work hard like they did. If I’m lazy, and raise lazy cubs, well…their cubs, my grandcubs, would have to start at square one all over again. A year of hard work here beats a lifetime of my grandkids having to claw their way up to the top. A bear, well, it can rip through the woods, but not the concrete corporate jungle.”
“Are you telling me all this because you’ve had a little too much to drink?” asked Pepper.
“No — I’m telling you this because you’re my fated mate, Pepper,” said Peter.
“You know, you keep saying that, but — ” started Pepper, but then, Peter started to unbutton his frikkin’ shirt!
Pepper’s jaw nearly dropped as Peter unbuttoned his fluffy, bouncy white silk shirt, button by button, the ruffles coming apart like an angel’s wings. Peter’s broad pecs were exposed to her for the first time, and in the center, she saw what at first she thought was just a random shape. It looked a bit pointy, a bit conical, but stubby on top. Peter kept unbuttoning his shirt. Shapes were leading down from the pointy bit, forms that similar but different, long and round. He finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled his shirt open.
“There’s no way that’s real,” said Pepper. “That has to be Halloween makeup.”
“Really?” asked Peter.
“Hemlock Crew can afford to throw a party like this. They can afford makeup artists,” said Pepper.
Peter ripped his white shirt and tore off a scrap. He went over to the bar, grabbed a handle of vodka, poured it on his chest, and then, gave Pepper the rag.
“Here,” said Peter. “Rub. Try and get it off. Then, once we’re done with this exercise, get me off.”
Pepper took the long torn piece of silk from Peter. She balled it up and put it on his chest. She rubbed and nothing smeared. She looked at the rag. There was nothing on it but booze. She put the rag down and ran her fingers over the mark. It was a shade of burnt orange, more brown than yellow, and it was raised from his skin. Unless he’d gotten Beverly Hills style fillers, that wasn’t easily faked.
“It’s really…a pumpkin, isn’t it?” asked Pepper. “This whole time, you — ”
“Yeah,” said Peter with a smirk. “I told you, Pepper — you’re my fated mate.”
Peter pulled Pepper close and kissed her on the lips.
Pepper couldn’t believe it. She was Peter’s fated mate? Well, he had a pumpkin symbol on his chest, and that was his mate mark. It was meant to lead him to his mate. She was very into pumpkins. She lived and breathed pumpkins. It was obviously about her. Patricia was right. The mate mark had solved everything. Her choice was clear. She had to be with Peter. After all — it was fated.
Pepper put her hand against Peter’s heart and felt it beating…but that beating heart is what made her stop. It wasn’t because Peter was dressed like a vampire and shouldn’t have had a beating heart if he was undead. It was because his heart felt like another heart — Oliver’s heart.
Of course, their hearts felt normal, like hearts felt whenever someone’s heart raced during a first kiss.
But, to Pepper, they felt the same, and that was what mattered.
Pepper pulled away from the kiss. She knew it would be hard to explain things to Peter, but…frankly, she didn’t know how to do it yet, but, she knew she had to do it.
She knew it was irrational. If Peter was her mate, Oliver wasn’t meant to be with her. Ménages could happen — but among bears, they were rare. What were the chances that she’d end up in a ménage with them? Good things came in threes, and two other Bear Claw Bakery gals had ended up in ménages. They’d each gotten Grizzlyfir and Hemlock lumberjacks of their own. But…those were good things. Good things came in threes — not complicated dramatic things. Peter and Oliver weren’t a good combination. There was no way they could be in a ménage together — no way.
That meant she had to make a choice, and she couldn’t do it that night. She had to talk to Patricia, think on things, take her time, and see if maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility Oliver might’ve also had a mark that pointed to Pepper. Maybe Peter was meant to be with someone else, and the pumpkin’s meaning to Pepper was coincidental. There were too many variables for Pepper to weigh and she couldn’t make a choice — not yet.
“I can’t,” said Pepper.
“Me neither, babe,” said Peter, pushing Pepper’s hair behind her ear. “I can’t just be kissing you. I need more.”
“I mean I can’t do this,” said Pepper. “You…me…”
“Oh,” said Peter, pulling back. �
�Okay. Look. I’m not going to push you.”
“You’re not?” asked Pepper.
“Of course not — I’m a vampire, not a monster,” said Peter, flashing his fangs and winking. “I’m sure you have your reasons for rejecting me. But…I think they can wait for another night. Would you agree?”
“I am inclined to agree,” admitted Pepper.
“You have two choices — you can go home if that would make you happiest, or you think it’s the smart choice, or whatever,” said Peter. “Or…I would love to dance with you to the silly song from Vampire Santa’s Zombie Revenge. It’s really up to you — and I have confidence you’re going to do what makes sense for you, Pepper.”
“Really?” asked Pepper. “I have to admit…I’m surprised.”
“Why?” asked Peter with a frown
“Because you’re usually a dick!” retorted Pepper.
“Ah — but I’m not a monster,” quipped Peter.
“You’re usually arguing with Oliver or me about some bullshizz!” insisted Pepper.
“Ah — but that doesn’t make me a monster,” said Peter.
“You’re stubborn, and contrarian, and…you’re also surprisingly nice,” admitted Pepper. “Ah, heck. Let’s dance.”
Chapter Six
Pepper was working the counter while she waited for her pies to bake. Two moms and their three kids came in.
“Welcome to Bear Claw Bakery,” said Pepper. “We have samples of our brand new gingerbread pumpkin pie available.” Pepper waved her hands over the tray of pumpkin pie squares that she’d cut out of her pies.
“Ooh, those look fab,” said one of the moms.
“Any allergies?” asked Pepper.
“Not a one,” said the other mom, holding the first mom’s hand. “Do you really mind if we all try some?”