I drive straight past the paranormal side grocery store where she got her original box of tea bags. The human grocery is only about fifteen minutes away. The employee on the intercom makes damn sure every shopper knows to get their asses out of here in twenty-nine minutes and twenty-five seconds the moment I walk into the store.
I check the photo I took of Willow’s half-used ketchup to match the brand of it to the ketchup in my hand. Taking those damn photos was the smartest thing I’ve ever fucking done.
After I’m done replacing everything she had, I go down the baking aisle. Does Willow eat pancakes? Or waffles? Who doesn’t eat pancakes? I grab a box and some syrup, and what’s pancakes without bacon, sausages, or eggs and toast? I should pick those up too.
“Five minutes before closing. Please make your final selections and make your way towards the front.”
“Rise and shine, honey pies!”I sing as Willow, Flora, and Luxe enter the kitchen. The girls each have bonnets covering their heads and sleepy faces. Their sleep was either amazing or horrendous, but either way, I made a bomb ass breakfast. Therefore, Willow’s anger that grows on her face as her eyes narrow should be canceled out.
“You stayed?” Willow growls, sitting at her small dining table. She quickly got back up to—I don’t quite figure it out because she sits right back down. Her eyes shoot to me,following my movements as I place the plates and full mugs down on the table.
“Of course I did,” I say. Worst-case scenario: someone tried to kill her last night—and she’s asking why I’d stay. What kind of man would I be if I had left? Who the hell has she been hanging around?
Their mugs are filled with tea and Willow brings the mug up to Flora, who sniffs it wordlessly before taking a sip and then nodding towards Willow. I could’ve sniffed that for her. I fucking made that for her. Did she think I’d poison it?
Layla floats into the room soon after the girls sit, and I set a plate in front of her. Her hair is perfectly straight, and her face is covered in a white substance... in skincare? She is not shy at all while filling up her plate with four pancakes and drenching them in butter and syrup.
“I’m hungry,” Layla shrugs as she stuffs her face. “You a chef?”
That is probably the closest I’ll ever get to athank youfrom her.
“No, ma’am. That would be my mom. She cooks at Eleanor’s Diner and has taught me a thing or two.” I say, sliding another pancake onto Willow’s plate. I’m doing my damndest not to stare at her eating. I crave to though. Watching another eat, especially before you eat, is a practice only soul mates do, and on instinct, I swear, the pull is there. Does she experience this too?
“Your mom is the chef at Eleanor’s Diner?” Willow asks, dropping her glare as her attention shifts to the pancakes in front of her. Her hands wrap around her mug as she slowly sips her tea. Her eyes move to watch me again, and I can hardly look away. Her gaze entraps me. I love her eyes searching my body.
“You’ve got some drool there, sweet pea,” I say, pointing to the corner of my mouth. I laughed, and Willow snidely snickers.
“Why are you here?” she retorts, as if it’s something I should be ashamed of. I smile. Ignoring the question. I move on to talking about my mom.
“She’s been working there for twenty years now.”
“And what do you do?” Layla asks.
“I save women from falling at grocery stores. Maybe you’ve heard about some of my work.”
“Ha ha,” Willow laughs dryly as she places a bite of syrup-covered pancake in her mouth.
“If you’ve heard about the tall, handsome man who has strong beefy arms saving a particular woman from hitting the ground in a graceful swoop, that was me,” I say, earning a chuckle from the group.
Hearing the teapot go off, Willow makes a move towards it, but I’m faster.
“I didn’t have pancake mix here last night...” Willow mumbles as she waits for me to pour more hot water into her cup. I smile down at her; she’s got tired eyes and is gnawing on her lip.
“I bought you all new groceries this morning and threw away anything that was opened or unsealed,” I mutter, leaning against the counter. I hadn’t thought of a game plan to figure out what the hell is going on here, knowing someone is trying to hurt Willow. I’m not sure what the plan is with Flora and Luxe either and how long they plan on staying. “Any plans today, ladies?”
“I’m going to—” Willow says, but I suddenly have a better idea.
“Prep the house for staying with a big strong shifter to protect you? That sounds perfect, Willow. You can get ready first, then I can get ready at my house, and we go shopping for better locks and an actual security system.” I say, interrupting the grumpy bear.
“I am going to work today,” Willow says, furrowing her brows and cocking her head to the side.
“Flora gave you the day off,” Luxe pipes in. While Willow is grumpy in the mornings, Luxe is more like a beam of sunshine that has finally pressed her on button. Flora only nods in agreement to Luxe’s statement. She’s become attached to her phone since she’s sat down.
“In case you and Flora forgot, I have bills to pay.”
“In caseyouforgot, Flora gives all employees thirty days of paid time off. You have twenty-nine after today,” Luxe says, biting into her toast.
“What if I was going to use all thirty days for something else?” Willow questions, an irritated smirk covering her thick two-toned lips. I smile, a closed-tooth smile that lets her know I won this argument way before it even started.
