Sugar Dragon_Kinship Cove_Mates & Macarons Page 2

  This was Kinship Cove, though—home to hundreds of breeds of shifters. Maybe he had a fated mate sitting at home waiting for him. Yeah, probably mated. I mean…there could be other reasons why he wasn’t interested in asking me out. I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I was every guy’s type. I’d just expected more than a dumb nickname and a complete shutdown from him for some reason.

  Why did my chest hurt so much? Was I…sad? About a man not returning my flirtation? What the hell was wrong with me?

  “You okay back there, Sparky?”

  I blinked, looking down at the empty coffee cup in my hand. The one I’d been holding for at least a minute as my brain tried to decipher my body’s reaction to Mr. Nickname-Maker-Upper. Or whatever.

  “Yeah. I’m good.” I made his coffee, grabbed his donut, and returned to the counter to ring him up, smile firmly in place. Not my flirty one that had taken me so long to perfect, either. He didn’t deserve it. “That’ll be four dollars.”

  The bulge of his bicep as he reached for his wallet totally did not steal my attention. Nope. Not at all.

  “Four is an interesting number, don’t you think?”

  I tore my eyes away from his arm, wondering when I’d been dropped back into elementary school math class. “Huh?”

  “Four.” He handed me cash, his fingers brushing mine and sending tingles shooting up my arm. “Two plus two.”

  “So you passed kindergarten. Well done.”

  His smile turned to a smirk with the twisting of one side of his mouth. “Yes, kindergarten and beyond. Even biology. Physiology. Anatomy.”

  Oh lord. “You like to study bodies, then?”

  Those deadly blue eyes tracked up and down my torso, devouring me with a look. “Some. I really like to study bodies interacting, though. The way they’re meant to fit together fascinates me.”

  “I bet it does.” I dropped his change on the counter. “Enjoy your donut and have a great day.”

  He shook his head, his grin only growing wider. “Thanks for the chat, Sparky.”

  “My name’s not Sparky.”

  “Oh yes, it totally is.” The jackass actually winked at me as he backed out the door.

  Misty passed him by on her way back in, eyeing him hard. Looking downright concerned as she came through the door. “Who was that?”

  “Just some customer.” It wasn’t often Misty seemed to be caught off guard, but she definitely was then. “Why? What’s up, foxy?”

  She shrugged, still looking unsettled. “I couldn’t get a read on him.”

  A read. As in what breed of shifter he was. Huh, I hadn’t thought about that possibility. “Maybe he’s human.”

  “Humans don’t look that good at his age. No offense.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “None taken.”

  “Be careful with that one, at least until I can figure out what he is.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not interested in any more interactions with that jerk.”

  That jerk…who I couldn’t keep my eyes off of.

  That jerk…who had left me feeling completely unbalanced.

  That jerk…who I’d be looking to come back to the bakery tomorrow.

  Yeah. That one. Crap.

  2

  Ginger

  I had cupcakes on the brain.

  It was well past the bakery’s closing time, I’d been home for hours, and yet I couldn’t get desserts off my mind. After a group call with my sisters so we could go over what needed to be done tomorrow—and discuss Coco’s very sudden and exciting love life with handsome Magnus—I’d sat down to figure out what I needed to try next. Specifically, how to meld flavors to come up with amazing, irresistible treats for the Cake-ily Ever After customers. Treats I hadn’t made before. Something new and exciting. But no matter how long I sat on my couch with my favorite brain-dump notebook and my thinking playlist on, my focus seemed to be running on empty. At least, in relation to baking.

  Other things, I couldn’t not focus on. Like cinnamon. And jerks.

  It didn’t help that the jerk who’d called me Sparky at the bakery that day seemed to be the biggest distraction I’d ever encountered. That graying hair and those blue eyes danced through my head whenever I tried to buckle down and think, and the whole irritation at him calling me whatever he wanted to instead of asking my name like a gentleman really threw me for a loop. Especially since I didn’t know his name. Maybe I’d assign him one the way he’d assigned Sparky to me. Mr.-Name-Wronger.

  No.

  Mr. Nickname-Maker-Upper.

  Even more no.

  Namey McNamerson, Mayor of Namington.

  Yeah, that didn’t even work in my head.

  Whatever I finally decided to call him, he’d gotten under my skin enough to take up space in my head. No man did that—when I was work, I was all work. When I was learning a new skill, I concentrated on every detail and kept side projects away. Whatever I did, I did with my full attention and focus. Until him.

  Not that I was doing him.

  Oh god, the idea of doing him…right there in my living room…on my floor. Yeah, that’d be the situation for sure. With all the heat behind his eyes? He’d be too intense to wait for the bedroom, too demanding to let me escape to someplace soft and private. He’d take me as soon as the door closed—throw me on the floor, rip off my panties, and thrust inside without preamble. Comfort be damned. I could practically see him there; practically feel his eyes on me. Almost taste…

  “Fuck.” I tossed the notepad aside. This night was not going to go the way I’d wanted it to. A drink. I definitely needed to get out of the house and find myself a drink. And maybe someone who actually had the decency to ask my name to distract me. To take my mind off of Mr. I-Like-Cinnamon.

  That name still didn’t work. I’d noodle on it for a bit.

  Thirty minutes of prep and a ten-minute drive later, I walked into my least favorite bar in the cove. It was a total tourist place, one the locals rarely spent time in. Perfect for what I needed tonight—fresh meat. People who didn’t know me, whom I didn’t already have a history with. I needed strangers, and the whole damn town was filled with visitors coming in for Nico and Fiona’s wedding. The bar seemed perfect.

  “A mojito, please,” I called to the bartender as soon as he walked up. Johnny was his name. Human, moved to the cove a few years back, already knowing way more about shifters and the paranormal world than most people, and tended to keep to himself. He was cute in a bad boy sort of way—a little rough around the edges, a little on the dangerous side if you didn’t know him. A little hot. He looked like a man who’d spank your ass all Saturday night then rotate your tires without you asking him to because they were looking a little worn on Sunday. He was a bit older as well—he had some salt and pepper going on around his temples. Just like the guy from the bakery that morning. The one who’d called me Sparky.

  Bastard.

  “Here you go, Ginger. Let me know if you need anything else.” Johnny shot me a wink and headed down the bar, answering calls for drinks. I watched him walk away—because how could you not when the guy had a perfect ass cupped in worn denim?—before scoping out the scene. Looking for someone to talk with. Someone to give my attention to. Someone like the dark-haired guy staring back at me from the other end of the bar. No girl on his arm, watching me as if he liked what he saw, and totally not a resident of Kinship Cove. Or, at least, not one I recognized. Jackpot.

  Ready to play, I shot him the look. You know the one—slight smile, coquettish angle to the head, definite eye contact as I gave just the slightest nod. The you might have a shot at getting into my panties if you play your cards right look. Not that I was searching for all that—I just needed a few drinks, some good conversation, and a way to forget my day. If I needed to use a little sex appeal to get all that, so be it.

  My target accepted the look, pushing off the bar and heading my way. He wore a cocky smirk on his face—definite turn-off—and took long, slow steps.
Sort of…slow motion almost.

  Oh fuck, if he was a sloth shifter, I was going to lose my mind.

  “Hi,” he said when he finally—and I do mean finally—ended up beside me.

  “Hi yourself.” I looked him up and down, taking it all in. Dark jeans, tight button-up shirt, rolled sleeves to attract the gaze to his impressive forearms, and that smirk. It really wasn’t working for me, but I wasn’t ready to cut my losses yet. “In town for the wedding?”

  “Yeah. My band did some work for the bride’s clan leader.”

  Growing up in a town filled with shifters, words meant different things to me than to the general population. He’d said band, and though he technically could have meant a literal musical band, my guess was he meant a band of gorillas. That made more sense in a town like Kinship Cove. Also, the bride’s clan leader? Fiona was a wolf of the pack variety. By saying clan leader, he meant the bear who ran the town. Jericho, the man also known as the town mayor. A bear shifter my sisters and I often called Uncle simply because he’d been such good friends with our dad. Gorilla shifter who had dealings with the head bear shifter in charge…the HBIC. I could work with this.

  “So you know Jericho, then.”

  “I do, though I’d rather get to know you better. What’s your name, princess?”

  Christ, could men quit with the nicknames already? “Ginger. And you are?”

  “Luca. So what is it you do, Ginger? Other than stand around busy bars showing up all the other women in the place.”

  I’d like to say I took his compliment in stride, but I didn’t. In fact, I’m pretty sure I scowled. I also took a step back, which opened up a line of view I hadn’t been able to access before. A line that stretched across the bar and gave me the perfect shot of exactly the person I didn’t want to see.

  Mr. You Smell Like Cinnamon

  And he wasn’t alone.

  “Where’d you go?”

  I snapped my attention back to Lucas. Luke. Lucaphobia. What was his name again? “Oh, sorry. I run the bakery in town with my sisters.”

  “A bakery? How quaint.”

  My head cocked of its own accord, and the ice in my voice was something I couldn’t defrost as I repeated, “Quaint.”

  “Sure. You know…chicks baking stuff. That whole barefoot in the kitchen thing. Quaint.”

  I could have killed him. Well, not really, but I could have eviscerated him with my words. I chose not to because, at that moment, Sparky-Caller caught my eye. He’d leaned down a little so the blonde practically hanging off his arm could whisper in his ear, but his attention stayed locked on me. And I had the urge to take advantage of that.

  So I laughed, and I grabbed L-name-dude’s arm and moved a little closer. And I gave the gorilla shifter my biggest, flirtiest smile while I tried not to hate him for thinking my owning a thriving business that fed people in town was quaint.

  “Barefoot? That would break an awful lot of health codes, I’m sure. I’d hate to have to close because I can’t keep my shoes on—we’re quite popular, you know.”

  “Well, if you’re the one working the counter, I would bet you are. How could anyone say no to such a smile?” He pulled me closer, hovering on that line between intimate and creepy. Sort of laying a toe over it, to be honest. “So does that mean you’ll make me breakfast in the morning, my little baker?”

  I shot a glance down the bar to find Sparky-Caller no longer looking at me. In fact, he was no longer anywhere that I could see him. Perhaps he’d left…with the blonde.

  Not that I cared.

  At all.

  Damn it. Sparky-Caller had turned me into a liar and a player, because there was no way Gorilla-guy had a shot. Time to change plans.

  I set my nearly full drink on the counter and fanned my face. “Woo-hoo. It’s warm in here. Isn’t it warm?”

  “Uh, not really. No.”

  “Yeah, it seems too warm. What’s the rule? Beer to liquor, you’ll never be sicker? Maybe I shouldn’t have gone for a rum drink after the beers I had with my dinner.” I forced a gag, bringing my hand up to my mouth and staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m going to head to the ladies’ real quick.”

  Gorilla-guy looked suitably horrified. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll, uh, be right here.”

  Of course he would.

  I rushed across the bar, slipping through the crowd at a speed slightly below actually needing to vomit. No need to make a scene or anything. I turned just before the hallway leading to the restrooms and headed for the patio instead. Fresh air. I needed some fresh air to clear my head of all the drama and bad juju of the day.

  Sadly, it seemed my juju could only get worse. The second I stepped outside, all the drama I needed to blow off my mind surrounded me instead.

  “Not looking so sparky, Sparky.”

  Fuck my life. “My name isn’t Sparky.”

  “But it fits you.” Name-Caller—seriously, it had been the best I could come up with, and now it was stuck in my head—slipped out of the shadows, almost as if he was made from the darkness. Or maybe that was just a glimpse of his soul. And no, I didn’t think I was being overdramatic at all. “I’m surprised to see you here tonight.”

  “Not sure why. I do live in this town, you know.”

  “This isn’t the bar townies go to, though.”

  No, it wasn’t. But visitors didn’t usually know that. “So you’re more familiar with Kinship Cove than a regular tourist.”

  “I’ve been here a few times over the years.”

  “Must have been more than a few times to learn the local secrets.” I stepped toward him, unable not to. Drawn to that devilish grin and those blue eyes. To the air of danger and darkness that seemed to surround him. To the tingle his very presence brought to my skin. “Why do you hang around so much?”

  “Something here has always called to me.” He slithered closer, bringing the heat of his body with him. Warming me almost from the inside out. “I’ve come back here for years, trying to figure out why. Wondering what could possibly be so important as to hold my attention for so long.”

  My lord, his cold eyes were almost hypnotizing. Almost. “Must be a lot of patience,” I said, stealing a glance at the gray hair along his temples. Trying really damn hard not to lick my lips. “You’re not exactly a spring chicken.”

  His grin turned positively deadly…to my panties. “No, I’m not. I’m quite a bit older than you in fact.”

  I didn’t inch closer. Nope. I totally didn't. And I was a lying liar who lied.

  “How do you know how old I am?”

  In a deep, rumbling voice, he murmured, “You’re not the only one with friends in town.”

  “You asked about me?” The threat of that, the overstep, should have fired up my temper. Maybe. Coulda, woulda, shoulda, and all that. Instead, I felt even more drawn to him. Found myself practically pressed against him—chest-to-chest. Well, chest-to-breasts. I’d much rather have been hand-to-breast, to be honest. A little nipple tweak would really help a girl out right then. Not that I’d ever ask him for such a thing. Christ, if he ever purposely touched me, I might explode. Death by spontaneous orgasm. It could happen.

  Sadly, he didn’t grab my breast or my hip or my ass or anything fun. He didn’t push me over that orgasmic cliff with his touch like I sorta wanted him to—and by sorta, I absolutely meant totally. Nope, no touchy-feely for me. He spoke again instead, using that mouth and those plush, pink lips in a way that could only be seen as a waste. By me.

  “I said I’ve been waiting patiently to see what’s been snagging my attention here. I’ve come to the conclusion that you play into it.”

  My doubt became a rocket ready to take off for the moon, it was so powerful. “So I play into something that calls to you, yet you’re out tonight with someone else? Seems contradictory.”

  The way his grin turned wicked gave me about one-point-two seconds to accept the fact that I’d screwed up by mentioning the blonde.

  “Does seeing me with someone el
se piss you off?”

  Yup. Screwed up. Now I looked jealous. Walked right into that one. “No. Of course not. Why should it?” My defense sounded petulant and untrue even to my own ears. He knew it, too—and Name-Caller didn’t seem to be the type of man to miss an opportunity.

  He herded me backward, brushing my arm with his as he angled himself closer. Pinning me in place against the wall with that ice-blue gaze. And his muscles. Oh my, his muscles. We met hips to shoulders this time. So many muscles in all those inches. So much tingling going on in my naughty bits.

  “You didn’t look too happy inside yourself, Sparky. Perhaps your date should try harder.”

  Breathe, Ginger. Breathe. “He’s not my date.”

  “Good.”

  Something in that word, in the force behind it, had me squinting a little as I looked him over. As I asked with every bit of sass the good lord had given me, “Did me being here with him piss you off?”

  “Yes.”

  Simple. Direct. And utterly confusing. “So you can date someone else, and I can’t?”

  “I’m not here on a date.”

  “Then who was the blonde?”

  “Someone not at all interesting.” Closer yet, his lips practically brushed my cheek as he whispered, “So you did notice me.”

  “How could I not?” I bit my lip and shrugged a shoulder as his icy eyes held mine. And then I grinned, “You were quite likely the oldest man in the bar. You stood out from the crowd with your gray hair. Hell, I should call you daddy.”

  That was…one hell of a slip of the tongue.

  A low growl rumbled through his chest, something deep and almost feral. Animalistic. I hadn’t taken him for a shifter, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one. That growl sounded too rough, too strong to be human. Shifters had two sides to them—two beings in one body. And right then, I was pretty sure I’d upset the beast within him. Whatever kind it was.