Candied Wolf: A Kinship Cove Fun & Flirty Romance (Mates & Macarons Book 1) Read online

  Candied Wolf

  Kinship Cove: Mates & Macarons

  Ellis Leigh

  Candied Wolf

  Kinship Cove: Mates & Macarons

  At the Cake-ily Ever After bakery in Kinship Cove, three sisters are about to meet their matches and prove that a man with a little silver in his hair can make one heck of a mate…if the fates allow it.

  No more dating shifters—at least, that’s what I promised myself after the last one met his mate while dating me. He wasn’t the first—fate seemed to enjoy smacking me upside the head whenever I dared to cross the species line. So when a handsome wolf shifter with a few extra years of experience comes walking into my bakery, I shouldn’t agree to go on a date with him.

  Especially not because he’s only in town for the biggest wedding of the year.

  The one where his son is the groom.

  The one between my last boyfriend and his fated mate.

  Did I say fate liked to smack me upside the head? Try burying me in the rubble of my past mistakes instead. Like father, like son had never been so wrong...or so right.

  For the latest release information, additional content, and promotions, sign up for Ellis Leigh’s newsletter.

  1

  Coco

  There was something about being invited to an ex-boyfriend’s wedding that really made a girl question every single decision she’d ever made in her entire life. It was like a game of if this, then that. If I’d done this instead of that, then I’d have that instead of this. Maddening. And also really, really distracting. And disheartening. And…every other dis word I couldn’t think of.

  I mean, sure, owning a small business with my sisters was pretty cool. I’d even leveled up last year and bought a house. A charming little bungalow on a quiet street lined with big trees that covered the sky like a green canopy as you drove down it. Very fairy-tale like. My house even had a white picket fence. On paper, I had my life under control: accomplished, career-driven, successful. On paper, I should have been really, really happy, but paper sometimes lied.

  In this case, my paper didn’t overtly lie; it was dishonest by omission. It neglected to mention the one area where I was truly lacking. My love life, which was an abysmal wreck. Romance was one aspect of my existence that I simply could not get right, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. A lot.

  I was pretty sure I’d dated every eligible bachelor in town—and by eligible, I meant human and shifter alike. No species-specific dating for me. No, sir. I kept the playing field clear, kept my options wide open. Of course, Kinship Cove, where I had always lived, wasn’t your normal small town—it was rife with paranormal activity and tended to attract men and women who could turn into animals. When I was a kid, I’d called some of them werewolves. As a teenager, I’d learned the correct word was shifters and had strived to learn as much as I could about the ones in my community so I could be a good neighbor and friend. As an adult, I called them friends, peers, and the men I should have known better than to get mixed up with—bachelor mistakes number six, twelve, and eighteen.

  Eighteen being the one about to get married in the biggest wedding ceremony Kinship Cove had ever seen.

  A wedding my sisters and I—owners of the Cake-ily Every After bakery—had been hired to provide desserts for.

  A wedding my ex—who’d literally broken up with me via email after finding his fated mate—had just invited me to. Over text message.

  “The man needs to learn to make a damn call or send a letter.” I tapped my fingers on the counter, trying hard to think up the proper response. Kiss off was definitely too harsh and totally unprofessional. Are you joking seemed too rhetorical. And Gosh, I’d love to was simply…not happening. Where were my sisters when I needed them?

  “You keep frowning at your phone and your face is going to freeze that way.” Misty, the woman who ran the front counter and kept all the customers—both shifters and human—under control, just laughed when I rolled my eyes at her. “What could possibly be so bad as to make the bubbliest human in Kinship Cove frown?”

  I wasn’t feeling very bubbly.

  “I got a text.” I set my phone down, still unsure how to respond to the message. “It’s from Nico.”

  The look she shot me would have scared a lesser woman. “What does the dog want now?”

  Dog. Because he shifted into a canine. Misty hadn’t liked Nico from the start, had said he shouldn’t have been leading me on, seeing as how I wasn’t his fated mate. I’d ignored her, not unaware as to how shifters found their partners. Heck, the other two shifters I’d dated had found theirs while dating me. I’d thought the first one was a fluke. Figured the second was quite the coincidence. It couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever happen again. So I’d rushed into a relationship with the wolf shifter, choosing to believe I was safe from all that fate stuff.

  I’d been so very, very wrong.

  After two months of getting over Nico and a pretty badly scarred heart from how things had ended so abruptly, I could admit that I should have taken her advice. Fated mates would always win, no matter how much the shifter cared for their non-mate partner. That was why I’d vowed to stop dating shifters. No sense starting something the fates would finish when they tossed that beast their true fated mate, like they had with Nico. And Justin. And Charles.

  Seriously, I should have rented myself out to lonely shifters. I could almost see the ad—date Coco Chance for a month or two, and you’ll find your mate. Guaranteed to work or your money back. You just have to pretend you love her, and she has to fall for you too, so her heart can be shattered into a thousand pieces when you leave. Mention this ad for a discount!

  Ugh. No thanks.

  Apparently, I took too long to answer her because Misty suddenly said, “I don’t know why you keep talking to him. No, wait, I do—you’re a good person.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re also an idiot.”

  “I retract my thanks.”

  “That’s fine, but he’s mated. Ma-ted. Not married, though he will be soon enough, and not just in a relationship. He’s attached in a way most humans will never understand. The fates threw him a bone he couldn’t possibly resist—there’s no coming back from that.”

  As a woman who could shift into the cutest, softest, and yet meanest fox I’d ever seen, she knew what she was talking about. Me? I was still learning. Growing up in a town where mythical creatures walked among you was one thing—dating them was an entirely new ball game. One that sent your world sideways at every opportunity. And I’d suffered through three such opportunities.

  Never again. “I don’t reach out to him.”

  “But you answer when he texts.”

  “Well…yeah. How do you not?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe just not.” Misty sighed, looking as if she were being forced to remind a wayward toddler why they couldn’t play in the street. Me playing the part of the wayward toddler, of course. “Look, Coco. You’re nice.”

  That didn’t sound complimentary. “And your point is?”

  “You’re too nice. You’re all sweetness and light around here, and it makes my job really damn difficult.”

  “Me being nice makes it hard to run the counter?”

  “No. You being so fucking nice that you allow your ex-boyfriend—who dumped you the second he spotted his fated mate—to keep chatting you up even though he knows his mate will cut his balls off if she finds out makes my job of leading you three wild women through the world of shifters difficult.�
�

  “That’s not what we pay you for.”

  “If I didn’t step in now and again, you’d end up making some pretty gnarly mistakes. Like that time last summer when the hottie with the black hair was hitting on you? When you looked as if you were going to just melt into his side without asking him his species?”

  “That just seems rude.”

  “Honey, in this world, rude is what keeps you from dating a skunk shifter. Do I need to remind you how that would have gone?”

  Ugh. No. She didn’t. “Okay, fine. I’m an idiot for being nice. I just can’t help but acknowledge someone when they talk to me.”

  “Texts aren’t talking—texts from ex-boyfriends are either booty calls or future mistakes. Maybe both. Ignore him.”

  I thought about her words for a long time, long enough to have finished a batch of my famous éclairs and for my sister, Madeleine, to arrive at the shop. She dove straight into the business of making the groom’s cake we’d be supplying for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. Me? I thought about ignoring Nico. For what felt like hours.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking that Misty’s advice was wrong.

  “What now?” Misty said when she caught me frowning at my phone again.

  “I just—”

  “Do not tell me you were thinking of texting Nico back.”

  “Well, I mean—”

  “No. Just no. You can never, and I mean ever, text him again. There is no good reason why you’d ever need to.”

  This was going to be awkward. “It’s an invitation.”

  “To what?”

  “The wedding.”

  Her face went flat, but her eyes—oh, her eyes were bright and hard as they stared at me. I knew that look—her fox was hanging out really close to the front of her mind. That little vixen had a mean streak a mile wide. I wasn’t the biggest fan of having caught her attention.

  Voice harsh, every word enunciated and slow, Misty said, “He texted you an invitation to his wedding.”

  Not a question, and yeah, okay. When she put it that way… But his bad manners didn’t mean I had to act the same way. “I should probably RSVP, right?”

  “That man has some balls, I’ll tell you that.” Misty huffed, pacing along the back counter and looking almost frazzled. Even the ever-calm Madeleine watched her warily, earbuds in and probably having no idea what we were talking about but knowing something had gotten to our solid and sure customer service person. We’d had lines out the doors and people screaming when we’d run out of their favorite cookies, yet I’d never seen Misty frazzled.

  This was new territory. “Misty?”

  “I’m thinking.” She mumbled something to herself, still pacing. Still looking like a woman without a solution to a problem. Definitely new territory. Madeleine disappeared into the back, probably pretending to look for something in the storage room. Smart girl, though we’d have to have a little talk about her abandoning me with a crazed fox shifter. Not cool, Madeleine. Not cool at all.

  “Maybe I’ll text Ginger.” My other sister, and the one with the most experience with men. Quite literally. The woman had no shame and an endless supply of both dating horror stories and successes. “She might know what to do.”

  Misty didn’t answer me, so I did just what I’d planned—sent a text to my wildest sister and hoped for the best.

  Me: I think I broke Misty.

  Ginger: What did you do now? I’ll be there in two minutes to put her back together.

  Me: Nothing intentional. Nico texted me again, this time to invite me to his wedding. Thoughts?

  The bubbles indicating she was responding showed up immediately, her answer popping up in seconds.

  Ginger: He texted you an invite? Classy. That gives you the green light to fuck his dad after the ceremony.

  I really shouldn’t have been surprised by Ginger’s answer. Shouldn’t have been, but I was.

  Me: That really isn’t where I was going with this.

  Ginger: That’s where I’d go.

  Now that didn’t surprise me at all. I kept my eyes on Misty as I prepped the tray of éclairs to put in the front case. She didn’t look any calmer, which meant this really bothered her. It bothered me too, but at the same time, it really wasn’t all that shocking. Nico always liked getting my attention, and I… Well, I fell for his lines every single time. At least, I used to. Before he found his fated mate and left me without a word. Except for a few text messages afterward that I’d answered just to be polite. And an invitation to his wedding. His wedding. As if he hadn’t been in my bed just two months ago. Before Bam! Fate.

  I was such an idiot.

  As I finished lining up the delectable, chocolate-covered treats, the bell over the front door rang through the bakery. It had to be Ginger—she’d said she’d be here in just two minutes. With Misty out of commission and Madeleine hiding, I needed my sister to talk me through what to do about this situation. I needed a reply that would strike the perfect balance of Piss off, you wanker and Jolly good time.

  Just less British.

  I hurried out to the sales floor carrying the tray of éclairs. “Misty’s still broken, and I am not having sex with a dad. That’s a nonnegotiable.”

  “I guess it’s too bad I have a son, then.”

  I slipped and wobbled hard, meeting deep, dark eyes as I bumped into the counter. As he smiled at me.

  And then I died.

  Not literally—that would have been way too dramatic for me.

  But he was so…

  I nearly dropped the tray.

  Thankfully, the man grabbed the end and righted it before we had a baked-good catastrophe. His arm bulged—actually bulged—with the movement, as if the muscles were trying hard to get my attention. They truly didn’t need to try that hard at all. This guy—this customer—was the living, breathing epitome of the word man. Tall and thick, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. His simple black button-up shirt clung to his arms, the sleeves cuffed and rolled in that way that made me drool.

  Arm porn was a real thing, apparently.

  The higher sleeve also showed off a little ink peeking out from one side. Giving him a tiny hint of danger. Just enough to make my heart flutter. And he wasn’t some young, cocky kid either. He had salt-and-pepper hair and scruff. A true silver fox right here in my bakery.

  And I’d just said I wasn’t having sex with a dad.

  Open mouth, insert foot.

  “Are you all right?”

  The tone of his voice sent a shiver up my spine. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were my sister.”

  “Ah, well, that explains things.”

  Another smile, another shiver, and another slight bobble as I attempted once again to make my way to the display case. Why wouldn’t my knees work the way they were supposed to?

  “Allow me.” He gave me a smile as he took the tray from my hands and set it on the top of the display case. “You know, I’m not sure whether to take the fact that you thought I was a woman as an insult or not.”

  He turned and crossed his arms over his chest. His very broad, very defined chest. Those cuffed sleeves slid up a bit, showing just that much more skin and ink and…

  “Women don’t have muscles like that.” Open mouth, whole darn leg. Why on earth had I thought speaking was a good idea? My face warmed, and I bit my lip as his grin grew wider.

  “Thank you for noticing.”

  As if there was any way not to. But he was a customer…and a new one, at that. I’d definitely never seen him around, which meant he was likely in town for the wedding. Calm, Coco. Stay calm. Businesslike. Professional.

  “Is there something you’d like to taste?” That sounded far less professional—and way dirtier—than I’d intended it to. “I mean…would you like to eat something?”

  Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  He hummed, uncrossing his arms and looking me up and down. “I really only stopped in for a coffee, but a taste sure does sound intriguing.”


  Oh lord, fire. I was on fire. My face, my neck, my chest…lower. Pure fire.

  “I recommend the éclairs,” I said, my voice way too low and breathy. “They’re a personal favorite.”

  “That’s a lot of sweetness first thing in the morning. I’m not sure I can handle it.”

  The way he said sweetness almost did me in. There was an odd sort of implication in that word, a promise of some kind. As if he knew he could handle it just fine and wasn’t meaning the sugar rush. “You’ll never know unless you try.”

  “You make a compelling argument.” He looked over the tray, humming again. “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal—I’ll buy one of these delicious looking éclairs and a cup of coffee. I just drove into town and need a little something sweet before I get to work.”

  “Of course. But what’s my part in the deal?”

  “You can accompany me to dinner this evening.”

  Not a question but not really a demand either. “Oh…I—”

  I spun as Misty slammed through the kitchen door, the fox shifter no longer looking frazzled but definitely pissed off. “Give me your phone. I’ll text that asshole back for you. And he’d better not be expecting you to drop to your knees and…” Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open as she looked over the man before me. “Shit. Sorry. I just—”

  A rumble sounded, a vibration I couldn’t place. One that called to me, made me want to rub up against the man behind me and curl into his arms. I even took a step back as if to do just that…with a stranger. A customer. What was wrong with me?

  At my tiny misstep, Misty crossed her arms, still staring at the customer even as the room went silent once more. Her eyebrow winged up high on her forehead, the look on her face one that I’d seen before. One that screamed attitude. “New in town?”