He was quiet for a beat, then whispered, “He’s dangerous, Beau. And I’m scared.”
I cupped his jaw, thumbing the corner of his mouth.
“I know you are. But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me. Rafael. Leo. Everyone at the bakery. You’ve got a clan now, even if it’s a weird little misfit one,” I told him.
He laughed quietly at that, and the sound hit me right in the chest.
“I don’t want him to take away what I’m building here,” Sean said.
“He won’t,” I promised. “We’ll figure out a way to stop him from getting close. I’ll talk to Rafael. We’ll keep eyes out. No one touches you.”
Sean stepped closer, pressed his forehead to mine.
“I don’t want to lose this,” he murmured.
“You won’t,” I said, voice rough with the force of how much I meant it. “You’re mine. And I protect what’s mine, remember?”
His eyes burned gold in the streetlight. “Okay.”
We stood there for a long moment, breathing each other in, safe in the hush of the night, wrapped in something fierce and quiet and strong.
Chapter 13
Beau
The shop smelledlike vanilla and cinnamon. We’d just wrapped up one of our busiest days since the bakery’s opening.
Customers had come in nonstop, the display cases wiped clean by 2 p.m., and Cassian high-fiving Leo so hard they nearly knocked over a tray of cooling danishes.
Not that I minded. I was buzzing. Not from sugar, but from potential.
We’d closed early, turned the sign with a satisfying click, and now the whole Bear and Bun crew was spread out across the front counter, sleeves rolled up, aprons dusted with flour and pride.
“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands once. “Let’s get down to it.”
“You mean let’s crush Wolf and Whisk into powdered sugar,” Rafael said, lounging against the counter like he didn’t care, even though he definitely cared.
“That too,” I said, grinning.
The town-wide baking competition was already the talk of the town. Flyers had started going up.
The Golden Whisk Trophy practically gleamed in my imagination. And yeah, part of me wanted to win because it’d be great exposure, but mostly?
I wanted to beat the wolves. Badly.
This was our chance to show Sugarpaw Springs, and every snooty food blogger from here to Redwood Hollow, that Bear and Bun wasn’t just some scrappy, back-alley bakery run by misfit shifters.
We were the real deal.
“This could really put us on the map,” Rafael said, growing serious for a moment. “I heard the festival’s pulling in actual food critics. Not just the local paper this year. The kind who write pieces that trend online. If they like what they taste... it’s free PR. We go viral, and suddenly we’re packed through fall.”
“Even the wolves looked a little nervous when it was announced,” Leo added. “Did you see James’s face? He was already thinking up sabotage plans.”
“Let him try,” I said with a growl. “We’ve got secret weapons.”
Everyone turned to look at Sean.
He blinked, a little flustered. “What? Me?”
