"Where to?"
"Drive!" I repeat.
"But you need to shut the car door."
I shake my head, close my eyes and think that I really need to calm the fuck down.
“Sweet Dreams.”
"That fancy place?"
"That's the one."
Now I remember why Danny used to bug me back in high school. He's nosy and annoying. He could have simply said he'd get going, but he had to add in "that fancy place." I don't care what it is, as long as it's far away from Logan.
Thank you, universe, for turning one night of passion into a biology lesson I definitely didn't sign up for.
Emma's already at Sweet Dreams when I arrive, perched at a corner table like a goddamn fairy princess in cream silk that probably costs more than my monthly coffee budget. Everything about her screams delicate perfection, from her sleek bob that never has a single hair out of place to her tiny waist that makes me want to hide behind decorative mason jars.
"Savannah!" Emma jumps up to hug me, then immediately steps back with a frown. "What's with the scarf? It's December in Colorado, not the Arctic tundra."
"It's called fashion, Emma. Some of us like accessories," I reply.
"Bullshit. You hate scarves. You said they make you feel like you're being slowly strangled by overpriced fabric." Emma's hands are already reaching for the burgundy silk before I can stop her. "This is gorgeous though. I told you it would look perfect with that dress."
"Emma, don't…"
Too late. The scarf slides away like silk betrayal, and Emma's jasmine scent immediately spikes with shock and something that might be glee.
"Holy shit, Savannah. Is that what I think it is?" Emma asks.
My hand flies to my neck, but the damage is done. The bite mark sits there like a neon sign advertising my complete lack of self-control, and Emma's eyes have gone wide with the kind of scandalized delight that means this conversation is about to get very uncomfortable very quickly.
"It's nothing. I ran into a door," I lie.
"A door with teeth? Savannah Marie Hale, you got bitten!" Emma grabs my arm and practically shoves me into the chair, leaning across the table with predatory curiosity. "Tell me everything. And I mean everything. Was it good? Please tell me it was good because you've been celibate for so long I was starting to worry about your lady parts atrophying."
"Emma!" I protest.
"Don't 'Emma' me. You have a claiming bite on your neck from one of the Pine Hollow pack, and I want details. Specifically, I want to know if the sex was worth eight years of pining and self-imposed celibacy," Emma demands.
I glance around the bakery, noting that Beatrice Montgomery is approaching with a tray of cake samples and several other customers are within eavesdropping distance. "Can we not discuss my sex life in public?"
"Fine, but you're answering the question. Scale of one to ten, how was it?" Emma insists.
"Worth waiting eight years for," I admit quietly.
Emma's screech could probably shatter windows in three counties. "I KNEW IT! I knew something happened! You're glowing, Sav. Like, literally glowing. And your scent is all... settled. Satisfied."
"Could you announce it to the entire town, please? I don't think Mrs. Patterson heard you from her house," I mutter.
"This is huge! This changes everything! Which one was it? Logan? Griff? Please tell me it was Griff, because I owe Dax twenty bucks if it was Logan first," Emma says, practically bouncing in her seat.
"You bet on my sex life?" I ask, incredulous.
"Dax said Logan would crack first since he's been mooning over you since you got back. I said Griff because he's more impulsive. So which one marked you?" she presses.
"Logan," I mutter.
