“While you are visiting.”
“Actually, I’m staying. Moving here.” The decision I hadn’t firmly made before I walked into the bakery rolls off my tongue.
“For what reason?”
Nowthat’sa personal question.
“Honestly, I just went through some big life changes, and my gut tells me this is the perfect place for a fresh start. Holly thinks there may be a position for me at the veterinary clinic. But if that doesn’t work out,” I raise my hands and wiggle my fingers, “I have very steady hands and wouldn’t knock all your scones onto the kitchen floor.” I finish with a big smile so he knows I’m neither serious nor critical of his kitchen helper’s mistake.
“I could not offer you employment.”
Okay, humor points earned: zero. But, embarrassment points: plenty. Luckily, I have years of experience maintaining a forced smile. “I was kidding.” My statement nets me no response, and the urge to say whatever is necessary to get some semblance of approval rears its ugly, habitual head. But I’m not that woman anymore. Not for anyone, so I swallow it down. “So, this is your bakery?”
“It is.”
“It smells amazing. A shame about the dumped scones. I’m a big fan, especially if they’re flavored.”
“Only the cinnamon scones were wasted.”
“Figures. Cinnamon is my favorite. What other kinds do you have?”
Amazra glances toward the bakery cases. “Blueberry, chocolate, and apple.”
“Ooh, you’re making my mouth water.” Warmth rushes to my cheeks as the accidental innuendo leaves my lips.
If he notices, it doesn’t show in his expression. He’s probably accustomed to customers drooling overhimas much as his baked goods. “I will prepare a box for you as a welcome gift.”
“That’s very kind, but I’m happy to pay.” Unsurprisingly, my offer goes unanswered as he walks away.
The yummy view of his wide back and taut butt lasts only for the few strides it takes him to cross the small shop. Deprived of the visual treat once he’s behind the counter, I shift my focus to the assortment of baked goods in the cases.
I’m a flour-based-carbs girl through and through, but it’s his hands transferring scones to a pink box that hold my attention. I can’t tear my gaze from his long, deep-red fingers with black nails. Watching him handle the pastries has my nipples trying to poke their way through my practical bra. You know it’s been too long since you’ve been touched properly when you’re envious of scones.
I’ve been officially single and free for less than a week. The next chapter of my life is for rediscovering and rebuilding myself, not getting distracted by a demon. Although… some satisfying hot sexcouldbe considered self-care.
That would require Amazra to share my interest, which he clearly does not. Curiosity about my arrival and decision to remain in town is not the same as wanting to get naked and sweaty with me. For all I know, demons don’t mingle with humans in that way.
Walking around town today, I’ve already compiled a long mental list of general questions for Holly about all the nonhuman species I’ve encountered. Now that I’ve met Amazra, my list includes some much more personal questions, none ofwhich I’m going to ask a brand-new friend of less than twenty-four hours, even if it does feel as if I’ve known her forever.
Besides, it’s probably for the best that my attraction to Amazra is unreturned. Even if our species are compatible and he were interested in me in an intimate way, I’m still sorting out exactly who this new version of me is, and I should be comfortable in my own skin before someone else touches it. Reclaiming my self-confidence isn’t a snap-my-fingers-and-it’s-a-done-deal thing. If only it were that easy. I have to climb out of the pit I’ve existed in before I can take steps in any direction.
The bell chimes the bakery door’s opening exactly as Amazra places the closed pink box on the counter in front of me. Three people enter, their voices replacing the silence and pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind.
“Hey, sorry that call took so long,” Holly says, as she joins me at the counter. “I see you’ve met our neighborhood baker.”
“I have.” Warmth rises in my cheeks while I blink up at Amazra, unable to prevent my eyelids from fluttering like a schoolgirl flirting with her crush.
He doesn’t return the smile I give him. Just silently stares while I fiddle with the flap of the box, my pulse hammering so hard I can barely swallow.
Maybe I’m attracted to himbecausehe’s detached. Conditioning from my relationship with Bart. Except, my gut says Amazra’s aloofness isn’t because he’s an asshole. Or maybe that’s not my gut talking, it’s my heart hoping, pointless and inopportune as that might be.
The scone-dropping employee disappears into the kitchen while the woman accompanying him joins Amazra behind the bakery counter. Tall like a runway model and just as stunning with flawless skin and flowing hair, her smile grows as her gaze flits from Amazra to me a few times before settling on my face.
“You must be the newcomer everyone’s buzzing about in the coffee shop. I’m Dauphine. I work for Amazra in the shop part of the bakery.” She gently squeezes my hand when I accept the one she offers over the countertop. “And the guy who didn’t say hello is William. He works in the kitchen, and I don’t think he was intentionally rude, just anxious about learning his way around the bakery and in town. He’s new here, too. He’s been in Fate’s Falls just over a week.”
“Oh?”
“Another human newcomer,” Holly adds. “Well, mostly human.”
