“How else would I make my pastries?”
“I thought maybe you used the club kitchen.”
He threaded his fingers through his pale hair. “If you don’t like my cooking, I’ll have to kidnap a chef. Pizza doesn’t deliver out that far.”
I cast a worried look about the room, wondering how my pack was doing. It made me sick to think that something might happen to them.
“Do you have a rose garden?” he asked.
I swirled my pancake in syrup. “No. I’m afraid I don’t have a green thumb.”
He ran his finger through the candle flame. “What are your passions?”
That was a good question. I’d never fully explored my interests in the past since I never had the time.
After swallowing my bite, I replied, “Well, I suppose I’ve grown to love knitting and making things with my hands. I’m nowhere near as creative as Melody or Hope, but what started as a hobby is something I find enjoyable.” I chuckled softly when I remembered how awful my first attempts were. “Maybe I’ll actually be good at it someday.”
“I’m sure you already are.”
“I can make scarves, hats, and small things, but I’d also love to try my hand at quilting. Melody could teach me how to use the sewing machine. I’m sure this is all dreadfully boring to a man like you.”
Atticus stroked his chin. “On the contrary, the most rewarding pastimes are the simple ones.”
“Is that why you bake?”
He smiled as if embarrassed. “Yes, but it didn’t come naturally. I learned from a talented lady. She took her passion and transformed it into a business. I can tell you firsthand that running a business is challenging, and not everyone has the versatility or intelligence to do it. I mused on the idea of opening a bakery, but I have no talent to speak of—not like your packmates.”
“I don’t think you realize that running a businessisyour talent. Building a successful place like this in the middle of nowhere was risky, but look what you’ve done with it. Even Calvin needed help, and he’s been running the Rabbit Lounge for years.” I tasted the sausage, delighted that it wasn’t spicy.
“You don’t seem like a woman born of this time.”
“How can you tell?”
“One of my talents,” he quipped. “Might I inquire your age?”
After sipping my tea, I replied, “My birth year is 1902.”
“Younger than I presumed.”
I sat back and smiled with surprise. “You think I look older? Shame on you.”
Atticus laughed brightly. “On the contrary, I think you have youthful but elegant features. I only mean that you have wisdom in your eyes, a feature I see more commonly in ancients.”
“Wealth and fame took its toll. When you reach a certain status in life, people use you for their own gain. I suppose you know all about that.”
He nodded. “Didn’t you have a team of advisors or a bodyguard? A good friend to guide you?”
“I never had anyone. No brothers to protect me, no best friend, no pack. My manager was my advisor,” I said with a roll of my eyes. I studied the way Atticus held my gaze before redirecting his focus elsewhere. It made it more comfortable to look at him while talking. “You’re smarter than I thought.”
His eyebrows popped up. “Are you saying I look like an imbecile?”
I set down my fork. “On the contrary. You’re obviously smart enough to know that polite conversation puts people at ease. I needed the distraction.”
“As it so happens, this isn’t a distraction. I enjoy talking to you.” Atticus reached across the table and touched my hand. “You have nothing to fear in my custody.”
“My pack will be safe. You’ll see to it, won’t you?”
He sighed. “I’ll do what I can to protect you, but your pack must fend for themselves. On my honor, I’ll do whatever must be done to ensure your safety. Not just now… but forever.”
