“One pan.”
“You haven’t burned anything since you opened this place.”
He didn’t respond. Eric wasn’t wrong, and they both knew it.
The werewolf’s gaze tracked to Sam, still floating placidly in the darkness. Some unspoken communication passed between them—the easy shorthand of longtime residents—before Eric turned back to Ben.
“So. The teacher.”
“Does everyone in this town know my business?”
“You carried her home from your own bar in front of sixty witnesses. You shoveled her driveway four times in two weeks. You handed out candy to her kindergarten class. And last Saturday you were spotted buying throw pillows at the general store.” Eric’s mouth quirked. “So yes. Everyone knows.”
He groaned. “The pillows were for?—”
“The nest?”
“I don’t… How do you—” He stopped, staring at Eric with dawning horror. “Flora.”
“Flora tells everyone everything. You know this.” The werewolf seemed deeply amused by Ben’s distress. “Relax. It’s not like mating behavior is shameful. It’s natural. Expected, even.”
“I spent six years making sure I didn’t have any mating behavior.”
“And now you’ve got a nice human lady bringing you cookies and smiling at you like you’re the answer to her prayers.” Eric shrugged. “Things change.”
“I’m aware.”
Footsteps on the dock drew all three of their attention. A tall figure emerged from the shadows—broad-shouldered and imposing, moving with the deliberate grace of someone who’d spent years learning to control his strength. In the dim light, his skin had a faint grey cast, and his features were sharp and chiseled, like they’d been carved from granite.
Because they had been.
“Garrick.” Eric nodded in greeting. “Didn’t expect to see you out tonight.”
“I had business in town.” Garrick’s voice was deep and resonant, the kind that seemed to vibrate in your chest. He stepped onto the porch, eyes sweeping over the assembled group with a gargoyle’s characteristic assessment. “Ben. Sam.”
“I thought you were hibernating,” Ben said.
“Something woke me up.” Garrick’s expression gave nothing away. “Then I heard there was drama at the tavern so I thought I’d investigate.”
“There’s no drama.” His words didn’t even sound convincing to himself.
“He’s nesting,” Eric supplied helpfully, and Ben shot him a murderous look.
“I’m going to poison your next drink.”
“Worth it.”
Garrick’s stone-grey eyes fixed on Ben with new interest. “Nesting. For the human schoolteacher?”
He groaned. “Does everyone know about Sara?”
“Small town.” Garrick settled his massive frame against the porch post, arms crossed. “Also, Flora distributed a newsletter.”
“She did what?”
“A monthly matchmaking update. You’re featured prominently.” The gargoyle almost smiled. “There are odds being placed.”
His claws extended involuntarily, scoring fresh marks in the wooden railing. “I’m going to kill her.”
