“Friday?” I squeak. “As in three days from now?”
He nods, utterly unfazed.
“Is that a problem?”
Emery is still behind him, doing the world’s most aggressive thumbs-up routine.
I inhale. Exhale. Paste on my business smile.
“Problem? No, no, of course not! I mean, I might not sleep for seventy-two hours straight, but yes, absolutely! We can do it.”
“Marvelous.” He claps his hands once, delighted. “Your name, my dear?”
“Marigold Santos,” I reply, reaching out to shake his hand.
The moment our palms touch, a spark zings through my fingers—soft, warm, and just a little tingly.
His grip tightens gently. His blue eyes gleam with what can only be described as otherworldly satisfaction.
“My name is Uzzi Stregovich, but please, call me Uncle Uzzi,” he says, bowing his head ever so slightly. “And you, my dear, are going to do just fine.”
He releases my hand, and I stand there for a beat too long, heart pounding, sugar glaze drying on my wrist.
Because somehow, I get the strangest feeling this cookie deal is about to change my life.
Chapter 2
Eb
It’s the end of the day, and I’m frowning at the ledger on my screen, jaw clenched so tight it’s starting to ache.
I hate it when numbers don’t add up.
Not dislike.
Hate.
My inner Badger growls, low and mean, snapping his jaws inside the metaphysical plane where he lounges until he’s needed.
That’s right. You heard me.
I’m a Honey Badger Shifter.
And before you even start—yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking.
Dragons get the glory.
Wolves get the romance novel covers.
But you know what they don’t have?
Me.
And trust me, they’re missing out.
Because Honey Badgers don’t play nice.
We don’t chase moonlight or guard treasure.
