Page 57 of The Alpha and the Baker
The dread slammed back into me. “Do you think she’s a hunter? That she used it to, I dunno, lower my defenses or something?”
No, my wolf practically snarled. Not in so many words, of course, as he didn’t speak English per se, but it was more an overwhelming wave of contrary opinion that rolled through my mind.
“I mean, I don’t think she needed bar soap to do that.” My beta could tell that clearly wasn’t helping my mood, so he stood and fetched his laptop from the dining room table. “Why don’t we look her up? Do a little research. If she doesn’t have social media or anything in her background, then we can surmise she’s a hunter. But you know how rare that is, right?”
“I do. It’s just hard to think of any other reason she’d clock me so easily.”
Chris raised his eyebrows.
“Wait, what’s up with that face?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know it doesn’t work when you try to play dumb with me.”
He let out a good-natured sigh and sat back down, putting the laptop on the coffee table in front of us. “I know you were running around like a chicken with your head cut off, but a lot of us weren’t exactly… subtle at the reunion.”
That came as a surprise to me. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you have people transforming right and left, especially the young ones. And according to several others, Gammy McCallister literally referenced fairies. I know the baker got intothe punch, but she didn’t seem completely out of it when I talked to her.”
“Wait, when did you have a chance to talk to her?”
Although the first part of the day had gone by insanely fast for me, everything had definitely slowed down once I got to spend one-on-one time with Felicia. If somebody asked me, I could recall every minute we’d spent together. Every word. Every micro-expression that had crossed that beautiful face of hers.
“Dude, multiple times. Especially since Arietty kept running up to her for some reason.”
Ah yes, Arietty. The whole reason we went on a date in the first place. Now that I thought about it, it probably was pretty darn suspicious for me to just pop up in the middle of the city with three giant dogs in tow.
Was I that oblivious? Or did I just have a blind spot when it came to gorgeous bakers?
“I see.”
Chris patted my shoulder. I appreciated the comfort, even if now I felt stupider than ever. “Hey, I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s not like you’re the only one who dropped the ball. Besides, maybe you’re not the only shifter she knows. She handled the reunion so well and was super chill about lying in a pile of wolves. Maybe she’s the one who bungled telling you she knew about our world.”
If that was the case, then I’d really embarrassed myself by bolting out like that. Still, the possibility was comforting, because imagining Felicia was a serial killer who hunted my kind made my stomach twist and my mind rebel. “Let’s look her up.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard if she’s a regular human.”
I wanted to argue that there was nothing regular about Felicia, but I figured it wasn’t really the time. Especially if she did turn out to be a hunter.
First was a general search using the standard engine, and a lot of information about her bakery came up. There was a small article in the paper as well as some advertisements. I had a hard time believing that a prolific hunter of shifters, fairies, and other magical folk would be running Facebook ads for cakes.
Still, I supposed stranger things had happened—such as wolves and Irish Spring—so we pressed on.
Bit by bit, we used slightly more involved methods until I knew where she’d gone to college, what she’d graduated with, and we’d even found an article she herself had written in high school for a competition with a $5000 prize package for a night on the town and a day at an exclusive spa. Nothing to sneeze at, that was for sure.
It felt like an intrusion to read it, but I did anyway, and what I found matched up with everything that she had told me. It also contained so much more, painting an even starker picture of the journey that had led Felicia to where she was now.
I miss my father.
I don’t know how I can miss someone I never met, but I see and hear his echoes everywhere. In the pictures on the mantle. In my mother’s sighs. Sometimes in the mirror. I wish I could have known him, but I will always carry his stories.
I think he would be proud of me. That he would taste every cake and bread I make, even the burnt ones. I imagine that he would smile at me and tell me I’ve already improved so much. And that he would mean it. I think that he and my mother would very seriously reserve my time for their anniversary cake, saying they had to get in before I was too famous.
But my dad is gone, so it is only my mother doing everything.
Every day. Every. Single. Day. She’s there for me in any way that I can ask. So that is why I’m entering. If I were to win this prize, I’d take her out to the steakhouse she’s always eyeing but pretending not to. I’d make sure she had flowers waiting for her after her spa day, along with cold water, a freshly made bed, and the laundry done. If I could just pay back a single iota of everything she’s done for me, I would be happy.
