But what exactly was she going to do about it?
Two weeks later, she figured out an answer. She set it in motion the very next day, but it would take weeks if not months to come to fruition. Plus, Theo was just getting his feet under him again academically. Becca couldn’t make major changes until the school year ended. But oh, the wait burned. As did the increasing silence from the Stupid Beast formerly known as Carl. The guy hadn’t even emailed her! Though in his defense, she didn’t email him either. What would she say? You’re an idiot? Why don’t you love me? None of those would work, so she focused on making summer plans.
Which put her right back where she was at the very beginning of this adventure: in the workroom of her bakery making cakes while silently fretting. What was that saying? The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
She carefully finished writing “Happy Birthday, Jenna” on a cake, then set it aside to focus on her newest cake sensation. Oddly enough, it seemed to be a favorite among boys as well as girls, so that was a plus. If only a certain grizzly someone would look at the damned thing and understand what it meant.
She heard the shop door jingle. A frequent sound these days thanks to a promotion Stacy had put into effect in Becca’s absence. Who knew a single radio ad could bring in so much money? She heard Stacy greet the customer so she focused instead on fashioning the fighting figures decorating the top the cake in front of her. This one used Cinderella’s castle as a backdrop for the main action and—added bonus—required a ton less construction.
And then her back started to prickle with awareness. She froze, her mind scrambling to prepare for who she hoped she see if she just turned around.
“Um, hello, Becca. Do you, uh…do you have a minute?”
Carl. Finally.
She slowly straightened and turned to look. How many times had she imagined this moment? In her mind’s eye, she’d pictured him looking everything from completely haggard because he missed her so much to dressed to the nines in a tuxedo and carrying a dozen roses. But she hadn’t pictured him in an ill-fitting suit and carrying a briefcase. He looked almost lawyerlike.
“Carl,” she said, hating that her voice came out almost as a purr. Even rumpled and awkward, he still rang all her bells. “Or should I call you Mr. Max?”
His eyes widened and then narrowed in consternation. “You can call me anything you want, Becca.” Then he hesitated a moment. “Unless you’d prefer Ms. Weitz?”
“Becca is fine.” She leaned back against her worktable, taking the time to study him closely. He seemed tired and wary, but otherwise fine. As far as she could tell he moved smoothly and, aside from appearing nervous, he looked healthy enough. But she still had to ask. “How are you feeling? Is everything okay?”
“Fully recovered and yes, everything’s fine. Better than ever, actually, though we haven’t found…” He swallowed, clearly wondering if he should mention the whole ordeal or not.
“The bad guys,” she supplied.
“Right. The bad guys.” He tugged at his beard. “How’s Theo doing? I heard he got an A on his geometry test.”
“Amy still keeping an eye on him for you?”
He flushed. “No, I haven’t talked to her in weeks. Theo emailed me. He’s excited about the scholarship we’ve got set up for Gladwins who get into college. Wants me to know he’s getting top grades.”
“He is. And I’m grateful for the extra incentive.”
“Anything to help.” Then he stood there in the doorway, hunched and uncomfortable. An evil part of her wanted to make him stand there longer, punishment for how tortured she’d felt earlier. But a larger part wanted him in her life, so she was quick to pull out a stool for him.
“Come on in, Carl. Take a load off. I heard you’ve been shot a few dozen times. Probably takes its toll and you could use a rest.”
“I’m not decrepit yet,” he shot back. But he did take a few steps into her workroom and then carefully settled down on a stool.
“Touchy, touchy alpha,” she teased, hoping they could recover their earlier sense of banter. More than anything else, she missed their easy communication.
He snorted. “You have no idea. Since everyone is suddenly convinced of my grizzly power, I’ve had nursing from women throughout the state. They just show up to ‘help me get back on my feet.’ Like I’m in a wheelchair or something.”
Was that why he hadn’t contacted her? Because more eligible shifter women were claiming his attention? The idea made her hands clench as she imagined tossing each hussy across the border. The United States/Mexico border.
“I’ve been shoving them at Alan, hoping he’ll look at someone other than Tonya.”
Well, that thought brightened her mood considerably. “Is it working?”
Carl shrugged. “Not that I can see. I think he’s given up on the shifter community altogether. He probably wants a nice human girl to warm him at night.”
Oh. Didn’t that just draw the line clear and dark between shifters and humans? All her hopes started to whither inside her. With a sigh, she looked back at her half-finished cake but didn’t move to start working again. “Is there something you wanted, Carl?” Given the briefcase, there could be all sorts of police, legal, or other crap to deal with, none of it remotely interesting to her.
“Y-yeah. There is.”
She looked up. Stammering wasn’t his usual style. A bolt of alarm shot through her and the words tumbled out of her before she could stop and think. “Is Theo in danger? Are they coming back? What aren’t you telling me?”
