Sugar Dragon_Kinship Cove_Mates & Macarons Read online

  Sugar Dragon

  Kinship Cove: Mates & Macarons

  Ellis Leigh

  Sugar Dragon

  Kinship Cove: Mates & Macarons

  The next delectable treat from the Cake-ily Ever After bakery in Kinship Cove will have your mouth watering. This recipe for happily ever after includes one feisty baker with a short attention span and a dragon who’s been hunting her for decades. All of the fated yumminess, none of the guilt.

  * * *

  Try everything once. That was my rule in life, food, and dating. I never missed the opportunity to have a new adventure, play with the right flavor profiles, or spend an evening with the perfect guy. Who needed Mr. Right when there were a thousand Mr. Right Nows running around? So, when a handsome man with heat in his eyes and a little silver in his hair came waltzing into my bakery, I knew I was in trouble.

  He’s annoying.

  He’s rude.

  He’s demanding.

  And he just might be the perfect match for me.

  Too bad he’s a dragon shifter, and dragons don’t do the whole fated mate thing. But maybe rules—mine and his—were meant to be broken.

  * * *

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  1

  Ginger

  Bakeries were total guy magnets. Like how dogs and babies attracted women to single men in parks? Sweets and coffee lured the males living in Kinship Cove in droves. Which was why owning and working at the only bakery in town—Cake-ily Ever After, a name that was totally my idea—was such a win in my book. I had my pick of the men in the area, or I’d had my pick. Pretty sure I’d already been through the list of all eligible men who weren’t either related to me, might-as-well-have-been related to me, or smelly.

  Don’t judge my aversion to smelly—being a human in a town filled with shifters of various species, the smell factor became a good measuring stick for a man’s date-worthiness. Ever met a skunk shifter? How about a ferret? Yeah. My sheets cost too much to risk them to any sort of…lingering odor possibility.

  The rest of the men? Dated them. Been there, likely done that. Maybe more than once, though I doubted it. I was a one-and-done gal at heart. I needed new blood, which was why the biggest wedding of the year for the shifter community happening right there in our little town was such a gift. New men from all over the country were showing up in droves, and our bakery was busy as all get-out. I basically had my pick of my favorite type of men—tall, dark, handsome, and only in town for a few days. They were all mine for the taking.

  Except for one.

  “The handsome man returns.” I gave the seriously hot silver fox who’d just walked in the door a grin as I slid a tray of my fan-favorite unicorn cupcakes into the display case. No unicorns were harmed in the making of said cupcakes—and yes, I had to put a sign under the name to keep shifters from worrying. “What brings you back here? And if you say anything other than my sister, I might just castrate you.”

  I wasn’t kidding, even if I did make sure to keep my smile bright. Magnus had strolled into our bakery the day before and taken a liking to my sister Coco. Enough of one for the two of them to have spent an evening together. Just dinner, though, according to her. No sex. Pity that, because the man was fine with a capital F-I-N-E. And not available to me.

  He was also a good sport. “Thanks for the warning, but rest assured—I’m here for Coco.”

  Totally not available. “Good. C’mon back—she’s working on the macarons for an event order.”

  I pulled a piece of waxed paper from the dispenser and grabbed a treat for him, one I knew from experience the men in the town appreciated. My sister could be racking up some serious mattress miles if she’d just put her skills to use. Baking skills. And…others. Both my sisters—the serious Coco and the quiet, slightly dreamy Madeleine—tended to be a little more reserved than me. Coco dated a little, but Madeleine didn’t. Me? I made up for both of them. In spades. Just not with the guy Coco seemed to have fallen hard for. Now they just needed to fall a little more…preferably into a bed together. Naked.

  And now, I was stuck thinking of the man naked. Of course.

  “Breton butter cake.” I handed Magnus the buttery bun, sending all my get-my-sister-laid energy toward it. Couldn’t hurt, right? “Coco trained with a French pastry chef after culinary school. Her éclairs are to die for, but these are a staple.”

  He might have groaned at his first bite. Not that I blamed him. “This is delicious.”

  “It is, and she makes them every day. If you’re lucky, she might even make them at home for you.” I spun to back through the kitchen door, grinning widely. “Hope you don’t mind working out.”

  His eye roll only made him that much more handsome. Graying hair, a body that screamed I work out louder than an LMFAO song, and a sense of humor? My sister had hit the jackpot with this one. The bitch.

  “Hey, cookie lady,” I hollered as soon as I’d led Magnus into the realm of flour and butter and all things delicious. Also known as the kitchen. “You’ve got a delivery.”

  My poor, harried sister didn’t even look up, focusing on a tray of pink macarons instead. “Five minutes. I just need five minutes to put these together before the filling sets up too much and I can’t get them to stick right.”

  Magnus answered her before I could. “I can wait.”

  Coco’s head shot up, her dark eyes looking right at the man behind me. That was likely my cue to…be anywhere other than in their way. I slipped through the kitchen to the hallway that led to our walk-in refrigerator. We used the space for storage mostly—we owned more aluminum than a…well, business that made things from aluminum—though my youngest sister liked to hide out back there as well. I found her just outside of the refrigerator, looking almost lost as she stared at a pegboard covered in icing tips.

  “Lost something?”

  Her frown deepened. “I can’t get the lace drops right on the wedding cake, so I thought I’d try a different tip. Are those new shoes?”

  I turned my leg and lifted the heel of one foot. “They are. Do you love them?”

  She shook her head, her eyes still not on the hand-painted red and brown clogs I’d spent the last three weeks tracking down. “They’re beautiful. How long will they last?”

  As in how long would I wear them before I tossed them in the back of my closet, never to be thought about again. “Until the next awesome pair comes along. Like always.”

  She shook her head at me. “You’re never happy with what you’ve got. How’s the wolf?”

  As in the groom’s cake. The bride and groom were both shifters—wolf shifters, to be specific—so the couple had requested a wolf howling at the moon to be carved out of cake for their rehearsal dinner. Clichéd but doable. The bride-to-be, a woman named Fiona, had laughed when I’d told her the same thing.

  “Honey, we’re shifters. Being clichéd is simply part of the game.”

  And so, a three-dimensional, howling wolf it was.

  I’d never tell Coco this, but I liked Fiona. She was strong and independent, sassy and a little wild. She was also saddled with Coco’s ex-boyfriend for the rest of her life due to some cosmic fate nonsense. Almost all shifters had to basically drop everything in their life the moment they met their so-called one true mate simply because the universe brainwashed them into thinking that person was perfect for them.

  Such bullshit.

  But I digress. “The groom’s cake is done and tucked into its den for the night. I just need to finish a few dozen more of the cupcakes for the bachelor
and bachelorette parties.” Boozy cupcakes—rum and pineapple upside-down cupcakes, dark chocolate Rumchata cupcakes, angel food cake with strawberries soaked in vodka. Fiona knew how to throw a party, and I knew how to keep it going. Sugar and booze…perfect.

  “So many things to keep track of.” Madeleine shook her head and grabbed a tiny silver tip from the massive collection of other shiny silver tips. “I assume Coco’s almost done with the macarons.”

  The cookies my sister was famous for. “Looked like it, though Magnus just showed up to distract her.”

  “The older man from yesterday?” Older—because he had a little gray at his temples and in his scruff. “They’re cute together.”

  And sweet—he seemed like a nice guy. But… “Too bad they’re destined for failure.”

  Madeleine swiveled on her heel in a slow-motion sort of way. Very horror-movie style. “He can’t be that much older than her.”

  I blinked. Blinked again. “I never said anything about the age difference.”

  A flood of pink rushed up her neck, staining her cheeks. “Oh. I just assumed… Well, I was wrong. But still, why do you say they’re destined for failure? Maybe they’ll fall in love.”

  I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, pointing toward the kitchen on the other side of the wall. “That right there? All the googly-eyed sweetness? That’s lust. And lust is fine—more than fine. It’s amazing and powerful and perfect for a night or two, but you can’t confuse it with love. You’ll get your little heart broken if you do.”

  Head cocked, hazel eyes locked on mine, she pouted. “So, how do you know the difference?”

  My younger sister was about as sweet and innocent as they came—but she was also quite likely a virgin. Not a bad thing, but I was far from claiming that status. This was a topic that needed to be handled delicately. “Love is…calm. Patient. It’s quiet. All that swept-up excitement isn’t love—that’s lust trying to get your attention. Love doesn’t need to preen.”

  “But what if it’s love at first sight?”

  Wannabe princess—not surprising. “That’s just for fairy tales and those poor shifters trapped by fated mates. It doesn’t exist for us.”

  Those perfect little bow lips of hers—goddamn, she really was the cutest of the three of us, and I hated her a little bit for it—turned down into a frown again. “I doubt you, Ginger.”

  I shrugged because, really, what could I say to that? She’d learn. Likely the hard way if she had some sort of Cinderella dream. The handsome prince and a shoe and him sending men to search a kingdom for his lost love. This was the age of Craigslist Missed Connections, Facebook, and dick pics. Who needed the shoe?

  I grabbed a tray of cupcakes from the walk-in and headed up front, figuring I could restock the display case for the late morning/early lunch crowd. I’d been on a kick with my cupcakes lately—a savory and sweet one. The tray I’d picked featured maple French toast and bacon cupcakes, strawberry and pretzel ones, and my personal favorite, Frito caramel. I know, putting a corn chip on a cupcake sounded weird, but when said vanilla cupcake was filled with a decadent caramel sauce, capped with caramel buttercream garnished by a sprinkling of Frito crumbs, and finished off with an intact Frito and a caramel sauce drizzle, they became the ultimate sweet and salty treat. You’d eat one. Trust.

  Still, the whole sweet and salty kick had been growing old. I needed to try something new, needed to experiment again and focus on something else. I needed my next obsession. Coco liked to say I had a short attention span, but I preferred to think of my desire for new and better and more as growing weary of the usual. The cupcakes could sell by the tray, but eventually, I’d get tired of coming up with a particular sort of combination and want to move on. So I would. I liked seeking new and different ways to explore flavor profiles, to mix and match things that most people would never put together. I liked to keep things fresh and new in both the business and my life. My dad had called me fickle—I considered myself adventurous.

  “Oh, thank the fates you’re here.” Misty—our shop manager, customer service manager, and expert on all things shifter, being that she was one—rushed over as soon as I pushed through the swinging door into the store. “My mom needs me at the restaurant for a few, and I just sent Coco to an early lunch with Magnus. Can you cover for my break so I can go deal with my family before they burn the place down or something?”

  Misty’s family owned a little diner down the street from us. It was how we’d met her—she’d been working there as my sisters and I had been planning our business over coffee and homemade pie. She’d sort of hired herself when we’d finally opened, which had worked out surprisingly great for us. We baked, she sold the stuff, and everyone made a little money putting smiles on people’s faces. Total win.

  She also ran the front of the bakery like a military operation, so if she said she needed to leave, something really must have been off at the restaurant. “Sure. No problem.”

  “You’re a godsend.”

  I gave her a smile and a wink. “That’s what they all say.”

  Misty laughed and rushed out the door, leaving me alone with cases upon cases of yummy baked goods. Between them and the scent of strong coffee brewing, we’d see a hefty lunch crowd for sure. The day was nice and sunny, so I pushed open the front door, set up a fan to subtly waft the scent of the bakery outside, and I readied myself behind the counter. Trap baited.

  It didn’t take long to snag my first catch of the day. “Sheldon! How are you?”

  Sheldon Pierce—wolf shifter, somewhat shy, liked to stare at my cleavage when we danced—gave me a smile as he tugged a woman behind him. “Hey, Ginger. This is my mate, Ali. We could smell something baking from down the street and thought a scone or two sounded like the perfect treat.”

  “Yeah, perfect.” The woman gave me a shy smile. Guess there wouldn’t be any more dancing for Sheldon and me, what with that sweet-looking girl on his arm. I almost felt bad for her—Sheldon wasn’t exactly a rock star in the sack. I’d taken him home one night—just the one—and remembered being really freaking grateful when he left before dawn. In fact, I was pretty sure he’d never actually gotten me off. No completing the pass, making the touchdown. No scoring the winning goal, if you know what I mean. A lifetime of sex with no happy ending all because some mystical fates decided this was the perfect person for you? No thanks.

  Not that I’d ever say that to either of them.

  “Congratulations on your mating—I hadn’t heard.” I offered each of them my widest grin and moved behind the display case. “How about a couple of vanilla scones” —because Sheldon was as vanilla as they came— “and some coffee? On the house, of course. Consider it my gift to you on finding each other.”

  Sheldon looked down at his mate then nodded my way when he saw her smile. “Sounds great.”

  And so the hour went—men from town came in, most of whom I’d dated at one time or another, and I sold them something from the case along with a cup of coffee. Sometimes tea. Working the front was an exercise in flirting—because who could resist that opportunity?—and a trip down memory lane. So many men, so many past partners, so many nights good and bad. Lord, I needed to get out of town more. I was pretty sure I’d dated every eligible bachelor in it.

  A few of the guys in town had wanted more than I’d been willing to give them—more of my time, more of me, more commitment. Those ones were either happy to see me, hoping I’d change my mind and go out with them again, or cranky. As if the fact that they couldn’t hold my interest was somehow my fault.

  Okay, so maybe it was a little.

  Sort of.

  It wasn’t like I could control my brain, though. Nothing lasted long there—nothing held my attention and took root except for my sisters and our bakery. They were with me for the long haul, but the rest? Flashes in the pan. Distractions. Playthings to be forgotten about eventually. Maybe if they’d been memorable enough—

  A man walked in and thoughts…gone.

&n
bsp; Brain…fried.

  Panties…wet.

  Good lord, he was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. Tall and muscular but not thick, with a shock of black hair streaked with gray and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. A silver fox who looked ready to eat me alive and fully capable of doing so. And totally new in town.

  Jackpot.

  “Well, hi. Welcome to—”

  “You smell like cinnamon.”

  “I…well, I work in a bakery.” I gave him my best smile, the one I’d practiced in the mirror as a teenager. The one that hopefully said why yes, you’re handsome and I’m available, so let’s have a little fun in a not-too-blatant way. “That’s sort of bound to happen.”

  He dragged those eyes made of ocean waves over my body, something almost covetous in his gaze. “Cinnamon is my favorite.”

  There was no doubting the direction of his thoughts. “That might be the strangest pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

  He shot me a cocky smile that made my knees weak and my breath catch. But then he opened his mouth.

  “Who says I was trying to pick you up, Sparky?”

  Attraction could turn to anger at the flip of a switch. Or at the possibility one might be rejected. Being pissed about the tossing out of a nickname I didn’t exactly ask for was likely a much better look for me than the latter, though. “Sparky?”

  “Yes, because your eyes practically shoot sparks when you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “I bet.” He darted a look at the case of pastries and lifted his chin. “I’ll take one of those cinnamon crunch donuts and a cup of coffee. Heavy cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon, please.”

  “You really do like cinnamon.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Did he… The man had just made an innocuous statement sound filthy in the best possible way. I had no idea how he’d twisted such simple words into something that made my body begin to burn from the inside out. Seriously, no clue. What I did know was that I wanted him out of my shop. Technically, I wanted him out of my shop and in my house. Preferably in my bed. But apparently, he didn’t want the same thing. Perhaps he was married—not likely, seeing as there was no ring on his finger, as if I wouldn’t look. I wasn’t an amateur.