“So, it’s over?”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
Friday passed in a blur of preparation. Jake perfected his sourdough technique while teasing Hunter about his coffee consumption. “That’s your sixth cup today, man. You trying to vibrate into another dimension?”
Hunter just raised the mug in a mock toast and took another sip.
Sophie helped Brie test the structural integrity of her three-foot gingerbread mountain design using cardboard pieces.
“If this holds, the actual gingerbread definitely will,” Sophie said, adding another support beam.
“Famous last words,” Brie muttered, remembering the year a gingerbread castle had collapsed an hour before the festival.
As she locked the bakery door that evening, Brie realized something remarkable. She hadn’t thought about the execution in three days.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Brie stoodat her kitchen counter Sunday morning, mechanically sorting through Winter Festival invoices while Hunter loaded a cooler with food from her refrigerator. She’d been up since three AM despite it being her day off, her body refusing to break its baker’s rhythm.
“You’re exhausted,” Hunter said, not a question but a statement. His dark eyes tracked the shadows under hers, the slight tremor in her hands from too much caffeine and not enough sleep.
“I’m fine. I need to finalize the sugar sculpture design and confirm the booth assignments.” She reached for another folder, but his hand covered hers.
“The festival is in two weeks. I want to take you away for the weekend.”
“Hunter... I can’t.”
“The pack has a cabin at Crystal Lake. It’s a secondary safe house, but it’s fully stocked and comfortable. Forty minutes from here. No cell service, no bakery emergencies, no festival prep. Just us.”
Her bear perked up at the suggestion while her human brain immediately started listing obligations. “I can’t just leave… What if Sophie needs something?”
His thumb stroked across her knuckles. “When’s the last time you did something just for pleasure? Not for the bakery, not for the festival, not for anyone else?”
She couldn’t remember. Even before witnessing the murder, her life had been an endless cycle of pre-dawn baking and late-night preparation. Since her parents left on their world tour, she’d done nothing but work.
“One day,” he said. “Let me take you away for one day.”
The drive up the mountain felt like ascending into another world. Hunter’s truck handled the winding roads easily, snow beginning to dust the asphalt as they climbed higher. She found herself relaxing incrementally with each mile they put between themselves and town.
“Dom secured the place a few months after we first arrived,” Hunter explained, one hand on the wheel, the other holding hers. “Every operation needs fallback positions. But this safe house mostly sits empty. Dom opened it for recreational use last month. Figured we all need somewhere to decompress.”
“Have you been here before?”
“A few times to stock the place and check security. But never for... fun.”
They pulled off onto a narrow side road marked only by a wooden sign reading “Private Property.” The truck bounced over ruts, trees scraping both sides until suddenly they emerged into a clearing.
The cabin sat perfectly positioned above a small lake, logs dark with age but well-maintained. Inside, there was a comfortable living space with a stone fireplace, a leather couch, large windows overlooking the lake, and a full kitchen. They made sandwiches for lunch, turkey and Swiss with mustard, and ate them on the couch beside a fire that Hunter quickly stoked.
Brie glanced out the window at the light snow dusting the ground around the lake. “My bear is dying to play in that.” Hunter followed her gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been working my ass off in the bakery all season.” She finished her sandwich. “When’s the last time you shifted just for fun?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I have no idea.”
“Me either.” She stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. “Come on. Let’s go play.”
“Play?”
